Our Moon Has Blood Clots: The Exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits; by Rahul Pandita

Once it was a political play between various empires, England and Russia and Turkey and France, to control what they variously named Near East, Levant, or otherwise. The objective of the so called Great Game was to control the landmass from Mediterranean to India - that is, India as it had always been understood since antiquity  until 1947, before it was "partitioned" to suit "religious" fanatics who could not live with "others" but insisted anyway on occupying others' lands and then killing them.

This was especially important to England for not losing the so called Jewel in the Crown that was India. So they played it better than others, divided the various lands, and India too before they had to leave. This last bit meant creating a new "nation" that was in no way different from India except it was given over to the fanatics who would kill thousands in name of faith, with really the lust for killing and theft driving them more than anything else, by carving up India and thereby encouraging the killings. India the new, truncated land found it hard to come together but she did, and the thorns or bullets were various pieces dominated by the fanatics either because a ruler was of them (even if majority in that state was not), or else because a good proportion but not necessarily majority was of them (those states where majority were of them were already given to the new carved out portion, whether they wished or not, for example the Frontier Province, now renamed Waziristan, as most parts in the carved out piece are often redivided and at the very least renamed, just so no one could without confusion refer to them).

And this became an immediate danger to newly independent India, what with so called "tribals" revolt in Kashmir, which in reality was nothing but tribals from outside Kashmir - from the newly carved piece of India - being sent along with military support, to destabilise India in every way, beginning with attacks on Hindu populace to continue, after a million or so killed so more could be induced to leave and the new "nation" was limited to one religion.

Kashmir however had a monarch who saw finally the wisdom of accepting India instead of his wish to be separate as a nation, and once accession was signed Indian military could protect Kashmir. This, the new nation of Pakistan understood, could only be changed by the usual tactics of old since a millennia - attack, lie, propaganda, massacres, deny attacks - rather than the new civil ways of UN and appeals.

Kashmir had been at the receiving end of attacks and massacres by muslims from north and west as long as rest of India had, and populations had been massacred and converted at sword point for that millennia and more. And now the case for "majority" of population in Kashmir was made by Pakistan, with no thought to the question of what if India used the same thinking and insisted only majority live in India.

This book is the documented tale of the most recent decades and the horrors suffered by Hindu populations in Kashmir at hands of terrorists, armed with money and weapons provided freely by US that were meant for throwing out USSR from Afghanistan (never mind the reality of the invitation to USSR by the then Afghan ruler to help him control just such Islamic terror in his nation), with false propaganda and more. False, because most Hindus of the northwest and north, or east, were thrown out and had to relocate to India as refugees, only due to massacres they suffered at hands of such terrorists who changed locals, their neighbours and friends, into beasts of horror more often than humanitarian helpers (yes, the latter happened too, and this author acknowledges it as much as any other Indian, including refugees who had to flee for life). If not for such horrors, not only Kashmir but both Pakistan and Bangladesh would not be as devoid of people of other religions as they now are. India has people of more religions than perhaps even the rest of the world and so would have been both these pieces carved out of India.

The horrors faced by Kashmiri Hindus match those of Germany during and before WWII in every way, and the only difference apparent is of organisation - Germans were more organised than anyone else as they always are at everything material; and the terrorists entering Kashmir whether locals converted via sojourn into pakistan for the purpose of terror indoctrination or total strangers from as far as Levant and Africa arriving to wreak havoc on hapless peaceful intellectuals, farmers and people of other such occupations, these terrorists were all too primitive and without any shame about their main purpose being kill, rape, loot.

Importance of this work is of documentation, of these horrors they faced in their homeland in Kashmir, at hands of neighbours and strangers, and also of documentation of the superb history of the Hindu populace of Kashmir and their achievements in realms of knowledge and more.

What is also a horror is how these people's travails were ignored for the two decades that saw propaganda against Hindus in another part of India, and against persecution of muslims of Bosnia. It is as if Hindu were of least importance, not only in an era when US became supreme and Russia lost the great game finally on world stage, but also in their own homeland.

That India is secular is merely due to precisely this characteristic being an integral part of Hindu religion where any path to Divine is considered as good as any other, and conversion an unnecessary idiocy. Fact remains that even if India is officially secular and the only officially Hindu nation is the tiny Nepal, over a billion Hindus of India and diaspora across the world has no other homeland other than India. So this second class citizenship in one's own homeland politically, in fact albeit not de jure, via the rule of past decades and due media falling in step with powers behind on world stage, only makes it a subdued horror for the whole populace on a level that Kashmir Hindus suffered for a long time on a far more open level.

One ought to thank whatever powers made it possible for the author to document this tale, if one cares about such matters as truth, over and above the propaganda and powers and swords dangling at throats if one so cares.

Arranged Marriage: by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

Even without checking with the date of publication, this seems to be an early work by the author, going by content and the raw quality, and the germs of later works of hers one finds here. At that, the themes she explores later with a more wide canvas in other works are worth it, and some others one wishes as one reads she would revisit and explore more. The latter fits for example the separations and self discoveries that women come through, which might be a description of more than one or two of these stories.

Here she is looking at lives of women from India living in US, either having arrived as brides unfamiliar with all but rudimentary level of familiarity with English language and west and US generally, or a later generation culturally if not in time of women who are living in US as students, pursuing an academic life, and not quite separated from mainstream life there either, as the brides are.

The readership she might have found uncertain, in that most readers from US would find this only marginally interesting if that, since India in general and Indian culture in particular are baffling to most west and a facile attitude of derision or outright hostility are often easier for those not quite brought up to see good in others even if unfamiliar. Readership from India might have been equally questionable, on the whole, since the author is so courageous in exploring lives of women from India living in US, and dealing with intimate details of life. Few are really bothered or willing to see reality of these concerns, and most would call it a few names and leave it at that. So courage it must have been for the author to be open in writing about lives of women and their concerns, without objectifying them, as most people do in every corner of the globe.

One is glad she did have such courage and wrote.

Mightier than the Sword; by Jeffrey Archer.

The Clifton Chronicles: Book 5, Mightier than the Sword (2015) by Jeffrey Archer

Clifton Chronicles have had readers hanging for the next chapter from the beginning, and book 4 was no exception. Book 5 deviates from the series slightly - someone might have pointed out to the author that clear definitions of good people separated from bad is not quite considered literature by elite, and confusion or at least grey shades must be stroked in. So he has gone major in the adorable little boy who has grown up, unlike his adopted sister and in reality half sister of his mom (if not of both his parents) who got killed in the earlier one, and takes the pick for being shaded grey. He is good, but feels the need to prove himself adequate as a man in providing for his life on his own, and strays from being perfect on a level understood by all good people, albeit within law. This provides the shading, while the major themes are Virginia Fenwick, Major Fisher and co championing vendetta against Barringtons for being good, trying to destroy them, not quite succeeding yet but not quite failed completely either, nor quite vanquished themselves - that is left for the book 6, surprisingly, since initially readers were promised only five books in the series. Since readers are hooked, more the better, and the series could go on as long as the author lives.

This one introduces a new factor, that of cold war and suppression of authors in particular and intelligentsia in general by former Soviet regime; one is reminded of various real life figures who suffered this in the figure of Babakov whose book about Uncle Joe has been all but completely destroyed and has only Harry Clifton for a possible saviour, since not only he champions his cause, using his own status as an author célébré, but also uses his status as a peripheral diplomat to travel to USSR to get a hidden copy out, and has other arrows to his bow when caught. It would be delightful if Archer did not make officials of USSR look quite so stupid, apart from smug, but then he is looking at the world from English point of view, only slightly less obvious than US and France - and of course, Germany - in its derogatory view of the world in general and anyone opposing the west in particular.

Giles Barrington's new involvement meanwhile comes as a surprise, it is all too facile, and while he is sincere and his object d'amour not yet obvious about whether she is indeed involved or is a weapon used by east block to trap a member of parliament of England. It could be both, and then one would have the wait to see which way she finally steps.

Oh, and the ship did not sink - nor was there loss of life, unlike promised at the end of the last book. But the miscreants escaped, for the most part, including and especially the south american rich villain Martinez. So threats to Barringtons, while dormant, continue, apart from the Fenwick. Perhaps the two are to be brought together in the next book or one after that? Readers of course hope the Barringtons survive and the good win.

Fraternity: by John Galsworthy.

Galsworthy does not cease to amaze. This work is perhaps more amazing in some ways, even when compared to his most famous Forsyte series.

Fraternity begins almost as an afterthought of a yawn, with a small gathering of various persona at an English uppercaste but not quite aristocrat family, two couples where two sisters are married to two brothers and the father of the sisters lives with one of the couples, while the other has a daughter almost engaged to a cousin on her mother's side who is serious about helping the poor. The father, Stone, is writing a book titled Universal Brotherhood of Man, and is dead serious about the whole thought of how humanity is a fraternity. And then the other half he has included not quite explicitly emerges to be a serious omission in terms of thought.

Stone is living with the daughter who is an artist and proud and sensitive - and has lost love of her life, her husband, by expecting much and not letting him know but wait, and baffle him. She is a painter and the young model she used lately needs help, employment, guidance, and more. So the young model is set up as a help for Stone's project to help him copy his fresh works everyday. She lives renting a room in proximity with the seamstress who is employed by the sisters, and the brutish husband of the seamstress begins to be proprietory about the model, and his dark brooding about her occupation in the family and possible connection with the husband of the artist is the beginning of the trouble.

In a society where decency is above all, progressive thought conflicts with old tradition and fraternity of humanity is not in accord with castes where a low caste poor young woman could only be a servant of one sort or another to an upper caste male. The gentleman is sympathetic, and would rather help the young woman, since she has no other guardian, but he fails to see the various complications such innocent help sets in motion - her dependence on him, his being attracted, the jealousy of the poor brute married to the seamstress, the disturbing of balance in his marriage, and more.

Galsworthy takes it to critical planes with some home truths via the young daughter of the family visiting the poor in company of her suitor, and a couple of small and not so small events. Before one knows it is all at a critical stage, and one wonders how it could have come so far with such decent people merely being sympathetic to poor. Decency of people involved does not help any, however, when it comes to it - what does help is the old tradition, caste, where a gentleman may not consort with a woman of low caste. He is not acting on tradition however, he has instincts too finicky, and there is no other way of defining them than in terms of what is called caste.

Much told and many questions but all in the almost impressionistic tradition of words painting a Monet in literature, where one sees only a gentle mist and not much of strong lines, but a picture of a society in churning of times where empire is graduating to a commonwealth of republics and caste is giving way, with tragedies of dire sort in the turmoil depicted with force that hit one and one wonders how the mist overlaying could have hidden it all so - and that is Galsworthy.