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Broadly, the essays included in the anthology fall into two
categories — the one that contest the official histories
through a comparative study of popular versions, the other that
bring forth the role of the present in reformulating the
histories of the past. Shahid Amin problematises the history of
Muslim conquest of North India through a critical reading of
various popular narratives, hagiographies and travel accounts
woven around a Muslim warrior saint, Ghazi Miyan. Portrayed as a
fierce Muslim fundamentalist, he is also a protector of cows and
Hindu herdsmen. Strangely, he is also not as lascivious as Turks
are usually stereotyped. Shahid Amin cautions on not to focus
singularly on syncretism and inter-communal goodwill, for it
leaves the field of sectarian strife as the special preserve of
communal historians. Indrani Chatterjee in her essay compares
and contrasts the long epic poem, "Rajamala," with the
prose history of Tripura. "Rajmala" is a dynastic
chronicle that contains the accounts of Tripura kings from
the15th century to 19th century. Sundar Kaali analyses the
mystery of deification of a White Man called Vellaikkaran in
Kanyakumari, juxtaposing it with the similar kind of deification
of Captain Cook in the Polynesian islands of Hawaii. Kaali
studies various ballads and local accounts of the White Man to
conclude that such deification was possibly a native strategy of
incorporation and devaluation of the colonial at the same time.
The excesses of
the present in reformulating the memories of the past are
highlighted by Nandini Sundar through her study of Kukanar
village of south Bastar, where she comes across a medley of
competing "origin" histories from rival caste-lobbies
spread over twelve helmets. With the change in audience,
memories are reformulated and new histories are
invented/planted. Tapati Guha-Thakurata’s essay on the
"endangered Yakshi" unfolds cultural politics of
appropriating the highly sensual statue of Yakshi within the
so-called "spiritual," "symbolic" and
"sublime" art tradition of India to forge a rarefied
nationalist art history vis-à-vis the utterly
"physical" and "material" art of the West.
She traces the life history of Didarganj Yakshi who was first
spiritualised by the nationalist historiography as a mother
figure and later on internationalised as travelling emissary of
the Indian art and culture, before finally it was restored to
Patna museum, the place of its "origin." Deepak Mehta’s
essay "Writing the Riot" explores the possible
relationship between communal violence and the writing of
violence as communalism. Violence, if it remains unnamed, loses
its signification. So all kind of communal stereotypes are
invoked to signify violence.
Partha Chatterjee’s
model is at best another variant of subaltern historiography in
the sense that instead of the nationalist elite it is the
academia, which is held responsible for erasing the popular from
history books. By taking history outside the pale of academia,
the author literally dismantles the aura of university as the
only authentic centre of knowledge. This self-critiquing is
timely. But is academic intelligentsia really as insular from
the popular as is argued by Chatterjee? Also, should the popular
overtake the intelligentsia? Granting space to non-professional
historian is indeed admirable, but would it not reduce history
to local mythologising? The popular and the political are so
organically aligned that conceding too much to the popular would
undermine the role of academic intelligentsia all the more.
The contributors
to this anthology, without exception, evince high degree of
scholarship and research prowess. The theoretical positions
taken by Partha Chatterjee in his extended introduction are ably
sustained and enunciated in the essays. Those who are keen on
recent trends in historiography cannot afford to bypass the
book.
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