TJS George And The Inevitability Of The Absurd

10/25/22 • 35 min

There is a point late in the lives of the very accomplished, when they unscrew the caps of their pens and write a compelling memoir of their lives.
But how does a self-effacing journalist write an autobiography? By not writing one. Not in the stock sense, anyway.
My guest today is journalist TJS George. He is 94 years old. His life as a working journalist began when he was 19. That was in 1947—in the months following India’s Independence. And ever since, George has had a ringside seat to India—and to every twist in its tale.
Journalists always have the best stories. After years of working their profession as a “little pitcher with big ears”—fly on the wall, if you prefer—they wait impatiently to fill the ears of the world with anecdotes.
But instead of all that, George’s latest book, “The Dismantling Of India”, is the closest we have got to an autobiography—unless, of course, he decides to up and write a classic memoir.
I read this book as a narrative history of India to be harvested from the biographical portraits of 35 Indians. They include people from art, entertainment, politics, science, business, crime and cause—profiles—at times in contrast; sometimes in concert.
But the word “dismantling” in the title of the book amounts to disappointment, because from the day he joined as a rookie reporter, the newly-born India has been on a downward trajectory, aging poorly—day after year after decade.
Biographies bring people to life, as a tapestry of the stories of their lives. An autobiography is supposed to do the same thing—a personal narrative gives an author licence—to a point of view, an explanation, or even an excuse. George has no use for excuses and his writing leaves no wiggle room for explanation.
The reason I equate this book to an autobiography is because it seemed to me that he was expressing his own life story through the aggregate of the lives of those he has profiled.
TJS George’s writing is not misplaced modesty. It seems to come from a conviction that he is—first and last—a journalist and thus, the story should come first, second and last. And any trace of the writer’s presence be excised—except by good example, to every journalist.
ABOUT TJS GEORGE
He has worked as a journalist and editor across India and Southeast Asia. He is co-founder before of Asiaweek in Hong Kong. Returning to India, he has worked with the Indian Express as Editor and as a columnist. He has written 20 books, including biographies of Krishna Menon, Lee Kuan Yew, Nargis and MS Subbulakshmi. He is a recipient of the 2011 Padma Bhushan and numerous other awards. He lives in Bangalore.
Buy The Dismantling Of India: https://amzn.to/3zaug2x
WHAT'S THAT WORD?!
Co-host Pranati "Pea" Madhav joins Ramjee Chandran in "What's That Word?!", where they discuss the interesting origins of the word, "SCOUNDREL."
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How To Find Draupadi With Koral Dasgupta

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In the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, the central character, the fulcrum of the story is Draupadi...in my view. But epics in mythology, the Mahabharata included, are full of tales of male valour. Mythology instills in its male protagonists, high chivalry. Men are always saving women.
But whenever women are warriors, they are usually fierce and angry, wreaking vengeful havoc everywhere. I haven’t read many historical or mythological stories of calm and collected women whose battle strategies were super-intelligent and saved a bunch of men.
Men, valour. Women, wrath. But from where do these messy notions spring?
From the stories we have been told. From subjective telling of history, the epics, folklore and mythology.
In the Mahabharata, we learned the story of how Yudhishtra gambled away his wife in a game of dice with his cousins and then sat back helplessly and humiliated while she was manhandled in the court. And then of course he went to war and avenged...I am not sure what he was avenging when he was the one who went and gambled her away. And then how did the wife, Draupadi, feel about being used as a poker chip? No one asked her, clearly.
Obviously, this narrative needs to change to include questions such as this. And the good thing is that it might just be happening, at an accelerated pace.
My guest today, Koral Dasgupta—one among a tribe of writers who seek to re-tell stories from the epics, but from a woman’s perspective. Today we talk about her book Draupadi—third in a five-part series of women in mythology, called the Sati series.
Most of us in India know Hindu philosophy only by what was repurposed for kids without nuance. As adults—whether or not plumbing the depths of this philosophy is material to our daily mundane, transactions—we find it lends itself to endless interpretation and intellectual excursions.
The blurbs on her book praising her, are from noted and respected authors, like Chitra Divakaruni, Saikat Majumdar and Pavan Varma—all of whom have been my guests on this podcast. And Namita Gokhale—whom I hope we will have the honour to feature before long.
Koral is deeply philosophical as you will hear. So, let’s hear her then.
ABOUT KORAL DASGUPTA
Koral Dasgupta has published an eclectic range of books. Draupadi is her seventh. Besides India, Koral’s books are shelved in university libraries across the world, including Harvard, Columbia, Pennsylvania, Chicago, Wales, Duke, North Carolina and Texas. Her work is discussed in the context of gender studies, art, myth and ecocritical literature. Koral’s fourth book has been optioned for screen adaptation.
Buy Draupadi: https://amzn.to/3D5LNLJ
WHAT'S THAT WORD?!
Co-host Pranati "Pea" Madhav joins Ramjee Chandran in "What's That Word?!", where they discuss the phrase "self-fulfilling prophesy."
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Winner of The Booker Prize 2022 Shehan Karunatilaka

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There is an old saying, “Dead men tell no tales”.
But how wonderful and useful it would be if we could follow a conversation into the afterlife? And what more wonderful than if you wrote about it and then won the Booker Prize for your efforts? Is this the stuff from which dreams are made?
Clearly true if you consider my guest today, Shehan Karunatilaka, winner of the The Booker Prize 2022.

In Shehan’s novel, The Seven Moons Of Maali Almeida, the main protagonist is dead but the character is alive. The novel—set in a terrible patch of Sri Lankan history between 1983 and 1990—is the story of a photojournalist who dies. In the afterlife, he finds himself in the "In-between"—a state between "Down There" which is life on earth and "The Light"—and where that is, is revealed at the end of the book.
The protagonist is confronted by—of all things—a bureaucracy in the afterlife and he is told he has a week, or seven moons, to find out how he died if he wanted to make it to The Light.
The novel touches the reader in many ways. Not the least to wonder what happens if we were indeed to find bureaucracy in the afterlife. Even the disappointment that visits us upon such a proposition is not rational. Yet...
Shehan uses the second person as a literary device. Literary fiction written in the second-person is rare. This style is unusual because the narrator tells the story to the reader using the personal pronoun "you." The perspective suggests that the reader is the protagonist.
Shehan Karunatilaka’s prose is compelling...gripping, even. The turns of phrase and word come together like play dough in what seems to be an absently crafted sculpture.
Intelligent prose is never without its humour and Shehan’s prose has a river of funny as its undercurrent.
He defines a queue in Sri Lanka as “...an amorphous curve with multiple entry points.” (Clearly, a south Asian malaise.)
"The afterlife is a tax office and everyone wants a rebate."
"You drift among the broken people with blood on their breath."
All this and you are still on Page 10.
But humour is peppered through the entire narrative and some of it is recognisable to typical snarky South Indian humour. This on page 135: ”...frilly shirt tailored by a blind man”.
In the context though, the humour is a noir humour that characterises places in the world that are in strife—such as Ireland, parts of the Middle East and Shehan’s home country, Sri Lanka.
I really cannot wait to ask him about all this.
At the time of this recording, Shehan has just won the Booker Prize, a little over a week ago. I know that the entire world’s media waits to talk to him and so, I am particularly happy that he chose to spend this time with me.
ABOUT SHEHAN KARUNATILAKA
Shehan Karunatilaka is a Sri Lankan writer whose first book, Chinaman, won the Commonwealth Book Prize, the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature and the Gratiaen Prize, and was shortlisted for the Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize. Seven Moons of Maali Almeida is his second book, it won the Booker Prize 2022.

Buy The Seven Moons Of Maali Almeida: https://amzn.to/3gUhnDw
WHAT'S THAT WORD?!
Co-host Pranati "Pea" Madhav joins Ramjee Chandran in "What's That Word?!", where they discuss the interesting origins of the phrase, "DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES"
WANT TO BE ON THE SHOW?
Reach us by mail: [email protected] or simply, [email protected].
Or here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/theliterarycity
Or here: https://www.instagram.com/explocityb