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SADEHA 35.mp4

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Part 1 · VIDEHA MITHILA MAITHILI DISCUSSION CRITICISM SERIES PART 1

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1. 0:00–0:03Imagine you are the president of your country.
2. 0:03–0:09Like, you've spent your entire life climbing this incredibly treacherous ladder of national politics.
3. 0:09–0:11Right. Decades of work.
4. 0:11–0:14Decades! And you've finally reached the summit.
5. 0:14–0:20And now you're invited to step up to the podium at a major, highly publicized international conference.
6. 0:20–0:21Okay. Setting the scene.
7. 0:21–0:27Yeah. And the entire purpose of this specific conference is to celebrate your native language,
8. 0:27–0:29like the language of your ancestors.
9. 0:29–0:31The language you literally spoke as a child.
10. 0:31–0:36Exactly, the mother tongue of the specific ethnic group you were born into.
11. 0:36–0:40So you look out into the crowd, you see your people looking back at you,
12. 0:40–0:45waiting to hear their language validated on the world stage by the highest office in the land.
13. 0:45–0:47Which is a huge deal for any community.
14. 0:47–0:48Oh, absolutely massive.
15. 0:48–0:52But then you lean into the microphone and you refuse to speak it.
16. 0:52–0:53Wow.
17. 0:53–0:59Yeah, you completely ignore it, and you choose to speak the official standardized language of the state instead.
18. 0:59–1:03See, it's that kind of moment that doesn't just, you know, start a political debate.
19. 1:03–1:06It starts a full-on cultural firestorm.
20. 1:06–1:10Because it touches a nerve so deep that people don't just feel disappointed.
21. 1:10–1:11They feel actively erased.
22. 1:11–1:13Right, exactly.
23. 1:13–1:19And today we are taking a deep dive into a culture that is quite literally fighting for its life.
24. 1:19–1:22I mean, they're fighting against devastating annual floods.
25. 1:22–1:25They're fighting the relentless pull of mega cities.
26. 1:25–1:28And as we just hinted at, they are fighting their own politicians.
27. 1:28–1:30It's a fight on every front.
28. 1:30–1:32So welcome to the Deep Dive.
29. 1:32–1:37Today we're immersing ourselves in this massive, incredibly multi-layered document that just
30. 1:37–1:39captures the struggle perfectly.
31. 1:39–1:40Yeah, it really does.
32. 1:40–1:46It's called Videja Sadeja 35, and it's a volume four anthology from a Mathili e-journal,
33. 1:46–1:48which is edited by Gojendra Thakur.
34. 1:48–1:53Now if you are listening to this and wondering what exactly is Mathili, let's just quickly
35. 1:53–1:54set the stage.
36. 1:54–1:55Good idea.
37. 1:55–2:00an Indo-Aryan language and it is spoken by tens of millions of people primarily in the
38. 2:00–2:05Bihar region of India and also the Eastern Terai region of Nepal.
39. 2:05–2:09And historically, I mean it is a language with this incredibly rich deep literary tradition.
40. 2:09–2:10Oh, absolutely.
41. 2:10–2:16But what makes this specific anthology, the day I said, day 35, so vital is that it
42. 2:16–2:18isn't just, you know, looking backward at some golden age.
43. 2:18–2:19Right.
44. 2:19–2:21It's staring unflinchingly at the present day.
45. 2:21–2:22It really is.
46. 2:22–2:26And you know, even before you read a single word, the document just sets a tone.
47. 2:26–2:27Like visually it is straight.
48. 2:27–2:29Oh, the artwork is amazing.
49. 2:29–2:33You open it up and you're immediately greeted with this traditional Mayfield art.
50. 2:33–2:39There's this deeply intricate white circular mandala and it's set against this textured
51. 2:39–2:40blood red background.
52. 2:40–2:43It just feels so ancient and grounded.
53. 2:43–2:44Right.
54. 2:44–2:45But then you turn the page and there's another drawing.
55. 2:45–2:50It's intensely colored in red and blue and it depicts the traditional drum, a bow
56. 2:50–2:54And this, well, this really fascinating, almost chaotic winged creature.
57. 2:54–2:56Yeah, that winged creature is so striking.
58. 2:56–2:59And honestly, it perfectly represents the text itself.
59. 2:59–2:59How so?
60. 2:59–3:02Well, because the anthology isn't just one thing.
61. 3:02–3:06It's this wild, completely unfiltered mix of short stories
62. 3:06–3:10and biting literary critiques and then deeply personal memoirs
63. 3:10–3:12and hard-hitting journalistic reports.
64. 3:12–3:13Which is exactly what you need, right?
65. 3:13–3:18I mean, if you're trying to understand a society that is in the midst of a massive transition.
66. 3:18–3:24Exactly. A culture is never a monolith. Its literature shouldn't be either. You need the poetry
67. 3:24–3:27just as much as you need the journalism if you want to see the full picture.
68. 3:27–3:32So our mission for you on this deep dive is to map out this shifting landscape.
69. 3:33–3:38By unpacking these wildly diverse writings, we're going to explore how the Mayfield community
70. 3:38–3:45navigates the tension between honoring their ancient roots and, well, basically just surviving
71. 3:45–3:50the modern world. It's a huge balancing act. It is. We're going to look at the raw truth of their
72. 3:50–3:55working class, the terrifying reality of their geography, the exodus of their youth, and the
73. 3:55–4:00really intense political battles over their identity. And I've brought you here to help us sort of
74. 4:00–4:06connect the dots between these incredibly personal stories and the massive sociological shifts
75. 4:06–4:11happening in the background. I am ready. I mean, the material we have today is remarkable
76. 4:11–4:15because it shows us a culture that's actively wrestling with its own reflection. It's not a
77. 4:15–4:23static museum exhibit. It's a living, breathing cultural organism that is figuring out how to
78. 4:23–4:27survive in the 21st century. Okay, so let's start with that reflection. Because think about how we
79. 4:27–4:32tell our own stories today. If you go on social media, you usually see a highly curated version
80. 4:32–4:36of someone's life, right? Well, of course, the highlight reel. Exactly. The promotion,
81. 4:36–4:42the amazing vacation, the perfect relationship, you rarely see like the bank account over
82. 4:42–4:43drafts or the arguments.
83. 4:43–4:44All right.
84. 4:44–4:48Well, historically, literature has functioned in a very similar way.
85. 4:48–4:52And this anthology kicks off with a massive shift in how the Maitre people are choosing
86. 4:52–4:53to write about themselves.
87. 4:53–4:54Moving away from the filter.
88. 4:54–4:55Yes.
89. 4:55–5:02We're moving from a polished, sanitized past to a very gritty, unvarnished present.
90. 5:02–5:07I want to look at a literary critique in the anthology written by a man named Ashish Ankenhar.
91. 5:07–5:10Oh yeah, Ankenhar's critique is fantastic.
92. 5:10–5:13He's reviewing a book by Sandeep Kumar Safi, which is titled,
93. 5:13–5:15Bay Shock May Dalin Par.
94. 5:15–5:21And this critique by Ankenhar is basically foundational to understanding modern,
95. 5:21–5:23mathy literature.
96. 5:23–5:26He is essentially blowing the whistle on the literary establishment.
97. 5:26–5:28He holds absolutely nothing back.
98. 5:28–5:32Anjanhar completely dismantles the tradition of Mithili autobiographies.
99. 5:33–5:37He argues that historically these autobiographies have been entirely sanitized.
100. 5:37–5:38Right.
101. 5:38–5:44He uses this really stark terminology referring to the white side and the black side of society.
102. 5:44–5:46Yeah, it's a very vivid dichotomy.
103. 5:46–5:49He says that the older generation of writers only ever showed the white side.
104. 5:49–5:54Like they highlighted the glory, the intellectual achievements, the positive aspects of their lives.
105. 5:54–5:55Sure.
106. 5:55–5:58But they deliberately systematically hid the black side.
107. 5:58–6:03They hid the poverty, the failures, the immense social inequalities, the manual labor.
108. 6:03–6:08It created this grand illusion of a flawless, elevated society.
109. 6:08–6:09Which is, of course, impossible.
110. 6:09–6:10Right.
111. 6:10–6:11But why?
112. 6:11–6:13Why go to such lengths to pretend everything is perfect?
113. 6:13–6:18Well, to understand that, you really have to look at the mechanics of caste and social hierarchy in the region.
114. 6:18–6:19Okay.
115. 6:19–6:19Layed out for us.
116. 6:19–6:25Historically, literature in this part of the world was dominated by the elite castes.
117. 6:25–6:31In the context of Mithili literature, this primarily meant the Brahmin and Chayesta communities.
118. 6:31–6:32Got it.
119. 6:32–6:36The Brahmins traditionally represent the priestly and scholarly class,
120. 6:36–6:40while the Chayestas represent the scribes and administrators.
121. 6:40–6:42So they were the ones with the power of the pen.
122. 6:42–6:45Exactly. When you have an absolute monopoly on the written word,
123. 6:46–6:50your literature serves a very specific political and social function.
124. 6:51–6:54It reinforces your position at the top of the hierarchy.
125. 6:54–6:54Oh, I see.
126. 6:54–6:59You present an idealized version of your life because your life is supposed to be the societal ideal.
127. 6:59–7:04So admitting to failure or struggle would basically crack the facade.
128. 7:04–7:07Exactly. If the scholarly class admits that they're, you know,
129. 7:07–7:11struggling to feed their families or that their societal structures are deeply unjust,
130. 7:12–7:17it undermines the very justification for their elite status. The sanitization wasn't just a
131. 7:17–7:21stylistic choice. It was a mechanism of power.
132. 7:21–7:25That makes total sense, and that actually brings us to why Anshunhar is so thrilled with
133. 7:25–7:31Sandeep Kumar's Saffi's book. Anshunhar praises Saffi precisely because his writing shatters that
134. 7:31–7:37traditional Brahmin and Kayaastah dominance. Saffi embraces the raw, unfiltered reality of the
135. 7:37–7:41working class and the Dalit communities. Right, the communities that have historically been pushed
136. 7:41–7:47to the very bottom of the caste system. And entirely excluded from the literary narrative.
137. 7:47–7:50Saffi's doing something deeply subversive here. He's taking the prestigious form of
138. 7:50–7:56literature and using it to document lives that were previously deemed unworthy of the written word.
139. 7:56–7:59And the details in the text are just so grounded. Like,
140. 7:59–8:03Sophie doesn't write about grand philosophical debates in village courtyards.
141. 8:03–8:04No, not at all.
142. 8:04–8:09He writes about the physical exhaustion of washing clothes. He writes about migrating to a massive
143. 8:09–8:13tech hub like Bangalore, but not to work as a software engineer.
144. 8:13–8:15Right, to work as a cook.
145. 8:15–8:20Exactly. He documents the shift away from traditional prestigious salary jobs
146. 8:20–8:24toward gritty blue-collar survival, like opening a bicycle repair shop.
147. 8:24–8:25It's a huge pivot.
148. 8:25–8:27But I want to ask you about the impact of this,
149. 8:28–8:33because for a listener who might not be familiar with the intense stratification of Indian society,
150. 8:33–8:38why is writing a story about a bicycle repair shop seen as such a revolutionary act?
151. 8:38–8:44Because in a deeply stratified society, manual labor is inherently stigmatized.
152. 8:44–8:48It's tied entirely to your caste and your perceived purity.
153. 8:48–8:49Oh, wow. Okay.
154. 8:49–8:55to be educated, to be part of the literary elite. Historically meant that you did not work with
155. 8:55–8:59your hands. Your hands were for holding a pen, not a wrench. That is a stark divide.
156. 9:00–9:06So when a writer proudly claims that space, when Safi says, yes, I wash clothes, I cook food in
157. 9:06–9:10Bangalore, I fix bicycles and my life is complex and worthy of exploration,
158. 9:11–9:16he is completely democratizing the mythilli language. He's taking it back from the elite.
159. 9:16–9:19Exactly. He's unmooring it from the elite casts.
160. 9:19–9:21It forces the reader to recognize the humanity
161. 9:21–9:24and the intellectual depth of the working class.
162. 9:24–9:27It's a society finally willing to look at its own true reflection
163. 9:27–9:28without the Instagram filter.
164. 9:28–9:31And they aren't just unmasking class and labor either.
165. 9:31–9:33They're unmasking gender dynamics as well.
166. 9:33–9:37There's this quick, brilliant little anecdote buried in this critique
167. 9:37–9:38that I absolutely loved.
168. 9:38–9:41It's referred to as the Patnebacht anecdote.
169. 9:41–9:43Patnebacht meaning the wife worshiper.
170. 9:43–9:45It's a phenomenal cultural snapshot.
171. 9:45–9:46It really is.
172. 9:46–9:50So picture this, there's a large communal feast.
173. 9:50–9:52Everyone is sitting down, getting ready to eat,
174. 9:52–9:54but one man is missing.
175. 9:54–9:55Feku Babu is late.
176. 9:55–9:56Right.
177. 9:56–9:59So someone in the crowd casually mentions
178. 9:59–10:00that Feku Babu isn't there yet
179. 10:00–10:02because he's a pet nabacht, a wife worshiper.
180. 10:02–10:03And why is he late?
181. 10:03–10:06The reason he's late is that he is at home
182. 10:06–10:08massaging his wife's feet.
183. 10:08–10:10Which to this group is hilarious.
184. 10:10–10:14The whole group erupts into mocking laughter.
185. 10:14–10:17It's clearly meant to be this emasculating insult.
186. 10:17–10:19The idea that a man would lower himself
187. 10:19–10:22to serve his wife in that way is laughable to them.
188. 10:22–10:24Right, it goes against the entire patriarchal structure.
189. 10:24–10:26But then his friend, Soothe here, steps in.
190. 10:26–10:28Soothe here looks at the group,
191. 10:28–10:31defends his friend and drops this incredible line.
192. 10:31–10:35He asks them, is it a bad thing to be a wife worshiper?
193. 10:35–10:37Is it better to be a prostitute worshiper?
194. 10:37–10:39It's the ultimate conversation stopper.
195. 10:39–10:40Oh, completely.
196. 10:40–10:43The text actually notes that the moment Soothe here says this,
197. 10:43–10:48The room goes dead silent, and all you can hear is the sound of people suddenly eagerly
198. 10:48–10:49eating their food.
199. 10:49–10:51Just aggressively chewing.
200. 10:51–10:52Yes.
201. 10:52–10:53They just put their heads down and shut up.
202. 10:53–10:56It's hilarious, but it's also incredibly sharp.
203. 10:56–11:01It is sharp because it uses humor to expose the hypocrisy of patriarchal norms.
204. 11:01–11:06I mean, the men of the feast find it laughable that a man would show tender, subservient
205. 11:06–11:07affection to his own wife.
206. 11:07–11:08Right.
207. 11:08–11:12Yet the unspoken reality that Suthir points out is that society often turns a blind
208. 11:12–11:17eye to men who exploit women or engage in infidelity.
209. 11:17–11:21Sooth here is highlighting a twisted moral compass where public affection for a spouse
210. 11:21–11:24is mocked, but private vice is tolerated.
211. 11:24–11:27It's just a small anecdote, but it feels massive in its implications.
212. 11:27–11:31It is massive, and it raises a really fascinating point about how literature functions as a
213. 11:31–11:34trailing indicator of social change.
214. 11:34–11:35What do you mean by trailing indicator?
215. 11:35–11:37Think about the timeline.
216. 11:37–11:41By the time an anecdote about a man defending massaging his wife's feet, or a story
217. 11:41–11:43about working as a cook in Bangalore,
218. 11:43–11:45is actually written down, published in a book,
219. 11:45–11:48and then celebrated in a formal literary critique.
220. 11:48–11:50The society has already changed.
221. 11:50–11:51Exactly.
222. 11:51–11:52The society has already shifted.
223. 11:52–11:55Literature is often the last place to catch up.
224. 11:55–11:58The unmasking, the challenging of the patriarchy,
225. 11:58–12:01the democratization of labor, these things
226. 12:01–12:03have already been happening in the private sphere.
227. 12:03–12:05In the living rooms and the bicycle shops.
228. 12:05–12:08Sophie is just finally giving it a public voice.
229. 12:08–12:11So the social landscape is shifting beneath their feet.
230. 12:11–12:13The old hierarchies are being challenged.
231. 12:13–12:16But as we move to the next part of the anthology,
232. 12:16–12:19we see that while society changes,
233. 12:19–12:21the physical landscape they inhabit
234. 12:21–12:23remains terrifyingly constant.
235. 12:23–12:25Yeah, nature doesn't care about social progress.
236. 12:25–12:26Exactly.
237. 12:26–12:29Specifically, we have to talk about their vulnerability
238. 12:29–12:30to the natural world.
239. 12:30–12:32Because if you live in this region,
240. 12:32–12:35you live at the mercy of the Coasea River.
241. 12:35–12:36You truly cannot understand
242. 12:36–12:39the Matherl cultural identity or their literature
243. 12:39–12:42without understanding their relationship with water.
244. 12:42–12:43Right.
245. 12:43–12:45The transition from social critiques
246. 12:45–12:50to environmental trauma in this anthology is jarring,
247. 12:50–12:53but it's absolutely fundamental to their reality.
248. 12:53–12:55For our listeners who might not be geographers,
249. 12:55–12:58let's explain the Coasey River,
250. 12:58–13:00because this isn't just a gentle stream
251. 13:00–13:02that occasionally gets a little high in the spring.
252. 13:02–13:04No, no.
253. 13:04–13:08The Kosi River is historically known as the Sorrow of Bihar.
254. 13:08–13:13It originates up in the Himalayas and flows down through Nepal into the flat plains of
255. 13:13–13:14Bihar, India.
256. 13:14–13:16And what makes it so dangerous?
257. 13:16–13:18It's the silt.
258. 13:18–13:23The river carries massive, unimaginable amounts of sand and silt down from the mountains.
259. 13:23–13:28Over time, this silt builds up and essentially clogs the river's own channel.
260. 13:28–13:30So the water has to go somewhere else.
261. 13:30–13:31Exactly.
262. 13:31–13:33So the river naturally and violently shifts its course.
263. 13:33–13:35It doesn't just overflow its banks.
264. 13:35–13:38It carves entirely new paths across the landscape,
265. 13:38–13:40wiping out everything in its way.
266. 13:40–13:41Which means you could build a village
267. 13:41–13:43miles away from the river,
268. 13:43–13:45and 10 years later, the river could literally run
269. 13:45–13:47right through your living room.
270. 13:47–13:49The anthology tackles this head-on.
271. 13:49–13:51It features a poetic response
272. 13:51–13:54to one of the most devastating recent events.
273. 13:54–13:56There's a piece by Varendra Kumaryadov
274. 13:56–13:59where he's praising a poem written by Rajdev Mendal.
275. 13:59–14:02And this poem is about the 2008 Kusaha flood.
276. 14:02–14:07which is deeply etched into the memory of this region as the cozy tragedy.
277. 14:07–14:11In 2008, the river breached its embankments at Kusaha in Nepal.
278. 14:11–14:17It essentially abandoned its established channel and swept across areas that hadn't seen a flood in decades.
279. 14:17–14:20Millions of people were displaced overnight.
280. 14:20–14:28Just staggering numbers. And Yadav notes how Mandel's poem captures the sheer unadulterated agony of the people trapped by those rising waters.
281. 14:28–14:29Is this real?
282. 14:29–14:34Yadav writes that it was a disaster that made the hair stand on end for people watching it on the news all over the world,
283. 14:34–14:37but, you know, for the Mayfield people it wasn't a news story.
284. 14:37–14:38It was their lives being washed away.
285. 14:38–14:42Exactly. They're a community defined by a horrific duality.
286. 14:42–14:45The river is the absolute source of their agricultural livelihood.
287. 14:45–14:48The water brings the silt and makes the soil fertile.
288. 14:48–14:50It is water as life.
289. 14:50–14:55But simultaneously, it's a monster that can destroy generations of work in a single night.
290. 14:55–14:57It is water as death.
291. 14:57–15:01And that psychological duality is incredibly difficult to live with.
292. 15:01–15:05I mean, how do you love the land that constantly tries to kill you?
293. 15:05–15:11That exact question is explored in, I think, is the most haunting piece in the entire anthology.
294. 15:11–15:16It's a short story called Na Arjindagi, which translates directly to boat and life.
295. 15:16–15:17A very fitting title.
296. 15:17–15:21This story doesn't deal with the macro-politics of river management, though.
297. 15:21–15:27It zooms in on one highly specific, devastating date, August 11th, 2010.
298. 15:27–15:30a date that clearly serves as a marker of communal trauma.
299. 15:30–15:31Yeah.
300. 15:31–15:34The story sets the scene in Quattol village,
301. 15:34–15:35right on the banks of the Toljiga River,
302. 15:35–15:37and the atmosphere at the beginning of the story
303. 15:37–15:39is actually joyous.
304. 15:39–15:40Which is such a contrast to what's coming.
305. 15:40–15:41Exactly.
306. 15:41–15:43There's this festive energy.
307. 15:43–15:46People in the village are rushing to get onto the small boat
308. 15:46–15:48because they're heading across the river to attend a feast.
309. 15:48–15:49You can picture the chaos, right?
310. 15:49–15:52The bright clothes, the chatter, the excitement.
311. 15:52–15:55But in their excitement, they completely ignore the danger.
312. 15:55–15:59They just keep piling onto this small boat far beyond its capacity.
313. 15:59–16:05It's a localized tragedy, but it really speaks to a broader numbness to danger.
314. 16:05–16:06What do you mean?
315. 16:06–16:10Well, when you live surrounded by water, a small overloaded boat probably feels like
316. 16:10–16:12an acceptable daily risk.
317. 16:12–16:14Right up until the moment it isn't.
318. 16:14–16:15That is such a good point.
319. 16:15–16:20So they launch into the river and halfway across the inevitable happens.
320. 16:20–16:22The water starts breaching the sides of the boat.
321. 16:22–16:23And panic sets in.
322. 16:23–16:24Instant panic.
323. 16:24–16:28The festive mood just shatters, people start screaming, trying to shift their weight, which
324. 16:28–16:29obviously only makes it worse.
325. 16:29–16:31Yeah, tipping the boat further.
326. 16:31–16:37Exactly, the boat capsizes, and the story describes the river as a monster opening its
327. 16:37–16:39mouth to swallow the people whole.
328. 16:39–16:44It is a horrific mass drowning, turning a day of celebration into a nightmare in a matter
329. 16:44–16:46of seconds.
330. 16:46–16:50The speed of that transition from celebration to absolute devastation is the hallmark of
331. 16:50–16:53life in a flood prone geography.
332. 16:53–16:57But it's the aftermath of the sinking that I really can't stop thinking about.
333. 16:57–17:00The story shifts focus to a woman named Rathia.
334. 17:00–17:03She survived, but she has lost her family.
335. 17:03–17:04Oh, it's heartbreaking.
336. 17:04–17:09She is on the riverbank, wailing, literally physically beating her chest.
337. 17:09–17:14She is mourning the loss of her loved ones, but also the total destruction of her future.
338. 17:14–17:18She cries out over and over that her diamond has been lost.
339. 17:18–17:20It's the primal sound of grief.
340. 17:20–17:21It is.
341. 17:21–17:25But then her young daughter, Munion, walks up to her.
342. 17:25–17:27And you would expect the child to be crying too.
343. 17:27–17:30But Munion is chillingly calm.
344. 17:30–17:31Right.
345. 17:31–17:33She looks at her grieving mother and tells her to have patience.
346. 17:33–17:36She says that no one knows when or how they will die.
347. 17:36–17:38And then she delivers this line that just floored me.
348. 17:38–17:40We brought our own fate into this world.
349. 17:40–17:42We brought our own fate into this world.
350. 17:42–17:47It is a profound, almost staggering moment of fatalism from a child.
351. 17:47–17:48It really is.
352. 17:48–17:53She's saying that birth and death are inextricably linked, and whatever happens, even drowning
353. 17:53–17:57on the way to a feast, was simply written in the stars before they were even born.
354. 17:57–18:01I have to push back on this though, or at least try to understand the mechanics of this
355. 18:01–18:08mindset because you know, to a western ear or to anyone outside of this reality, that
356. 18:08–18:10fatalism sounds like giving up.
357. 18:10–18:11Okay, how so?
358. 18:11–18:13Let me use an analogy.
359. 18:13–18:16Imagine you build your dream house on the side of an active volcano.
360. 18:16–18:17Dangerous choice, but okay.
361. 18:17–18:21Right. You know, scientifically that it is going to erupt eventually.
362. 18:21–18:24Ten years later, it erupts and burns your house to the ground.
363. 18:24–18:26If you stand in the ashes and just shrug and say,
364. 18:26–18:31well, it was fate, isn't that a sign of complete cultural defeat?
365. 18:31–18:32I see you're just like...
366. 18:32–18:34Like why not just move away from the volcano?
367. 18:34–18:36Is Minion's fatalism a surrender,
368. 18:36–18:39or is it actually a survival mechanism?
369. 18:39–18:41It is absolutely a survival mechanism.
370. 18:41–18:41Yeah.
371. 18:41–18:43And a highly evolved one.
372. 18:43–18:43Really?
373. 18:43–18:46Let's look at the psychology of your volcano analogy.
374. 18:46–18:50If you believe that you have total control over your environment, if you believe that
375. 18:50–18:57human agency is supreme, then a disaster like the Coasea Flood or a mass drowning will entirely
376. 18:57–18:58shatter your worldview.
377. 18:58–19:00Because it proves you were in control.
378. 19:00–19:01Exactly.
379. 19:01–19:04You will be paralyzed by the profound injustice of it.
380. 19:04–19:08You will drive yourself mad asking why me, why my family.
381. 19:08–19:13But if you adopt a worldview of fatalism, if you accept that the river's wrath
382. 19:13–19:19is preordained, that the cosmos has a plan that you cannot possibly comprehend or alter,
383. 19:19–19:22then the trauma is categorized differently in your brain.
384. 19:22–19:25So it removes the burden of the why?
385. 19:25–19:26Precisely.
386. 19:26–19:28It neutralizes the existential dread.
387. 19:28–19:32It isn't that they don't feel the pain, Ruthie is clearly in agony.
388. 19:32–19:36But fatalism provides a framework to process the unprocessable.
389. 19:36–19:41It isn't a religious platitude, it is a psychological shield forged by centuries of living at
390. 19:41–19:45the mercy of an under forgiving geography. It is the only way you can wake up the next
391. 19:45–19:49morning. That makes a lot of sense. It's the belief system that allows Rathia to eventually
392. 19:49–19:53stop whaling. And it's the exact mechanism that allows communities to build a new boat
393. 19:53–19:57and plant new seeds in the very mud that just drown their neighbors. They stay because
394. 19:57–20:02it's their home. Yes. It is their land, their identity. And fatalism is the armor
395. 20:02–20:07they wear to survive staying. That is fascinating. So the water displaces them physically and
396. 20:07–20:11And their philosophy is what allows them to survive that displacement mentally.
397. 20:11–20:12Well put.
398. 20:12–20:14But the anthology immediately pivots.
399. 20:14–20:17Because right now, there is a different kind of displacement happening and it has nothing
400. 20:17–20:18to do with water.
401. 20:18–20:19Right.
402. 20:19–20:20A modern displacement.
403. 20:20–20:22It is the economic and educational displacement of the youth?
404. 20:22–20:23The youth exodus.
405. 20:23–20:28It is the defining demographic earthquake of modern India and Nepal.
406. 20:28–20:30Because there just aren't enough opportunities in the villages.
407. 20:30–20:31Exactly.
408. 20:31–20:35The agrarian village economy simply cannot support the ambitions or the population
409. 20:35–20:41of the rising generation. And the Macell youth are caught right in the center of this massive
410. 20:41–20:43migration to the megacities.
411. 20:43–20:48And the anthology captures this beautifully with two short stories by the writer Vanit
412. 20:48–20:53Utpal. These stories perfectly encapsulate the modern urban struggle.
413. 20:53–20:56Utpal is a very sharp observer of urban life.
414. 20:56–21:01The first story is called Nimantren, which means invitation. And honestly, it is a deeply
415. 21:01–21:06cynical, heartbreaking look at how modern ambition destroys traditional relationships.
416. 21:06–21:12New Mentran is a brilliant exploration of the transactional nature of urban life.
417. 21:12–21:17It asks what happens to loyalty when upward mobility becomes the ultimate goal.
418. 21:17–21:20Let me walk you through it. The story follows a young couple,
419. 21:20–21:25Sokshin, who is an aspiring journalist, and Nita, who is a talented cathok dancer.
420. 21:25–21:25Okay.
421. 21:25–21:29The narrative spans across multiple cities. They move through Paritabad,
422. 21:29–21:37Agra and eventually deli they meet they fall deeply in love and sachin makes massive life-altering sacrifices for her like what?
423. 21:37–21:40Well, he gets into a minor dispute at his job
424. 21:40–21:46And he basically uses it as an excuse to just quit in anger so he can move to deli specifically to be closer to nita
425. 21:46–21:51Oh, yeah, he acts as her whole support system. He builds her website. He promotes her art
426. 21:51–21:55He's entirely devoted to her success, but then the turning point happens
427. 21:55–21:59Anita gets a prestigious scholarship to go to America.
428. 21:59–22:03And the geographic distance immediately reveals the fragile nature of their bond.
429. 22:03–22:07Instantly. The moment she crosses the ocean, the dynamic completely flips.
430. 22:07–22:09She stops returning his calls with the same enthusiasm.
431. 22:09–22:10The classic fadeout.
432. 22:10–22:15Right. Eventually she calls Sachin to deliver the final blow.
433. 22:15–22:19She tells him that she is marrying someone else, an affluent man named Samarendra.
434. 22:19–22:20Ouch.
435. 22:20–22:24And she coldly cuts ties with Sachin, essentially telling him that a life with him
436. 22:24–22:26wouldn't align with her new trajectory.
437. 22:26–22:29She makes a calculated, brutal choice.
438. 22:29–22:32She looks at her life as a ledger,
439. 22:32–22:34and she determines that Samarandra is a better asset
440. 22:34–22:38for her new, upwardly mobile life in America than Sochyn.
441. 22:38–22:40Even though Sochyn sacrificed everything for her.
442. 22:40–22:42Right, she trades loyalty for ambition.
443. 22:42–22:45And the story gets so incredibly dark from there.
444. 22:45–22:47Sochyn is completely devastated.
445. 22:47–22:48And his heartbreak and his fury,
446. 22:48–22:50he essentially curses her.
447. 22:50–22:51He wishes ill upon her.
448. 22:51–22:52That's intense.
449. 22:52–22:53And shockingly, a little while later,
450. 22:53–22:55Samarandrass suddenly dies.
451. 22:55–22:56Oh wow.
452. 22:56–22:57I know.
453. 22:57–22:58And what does Neeta do?
454. 22:58–23:01She actually calls Sajin not to apologize, but to blame him.
455. 23:01–23:04She accuses him of killing her husband with his curse.
456. 23:04–23:06So the relationship ends in just total toxicity.
457. 23:06–23:08Total toxic alienation.
458. 23:08–23:10The story then jumps forward many years.
459. 23:10–23:13Sajin has channeled all his pain into his career.
460. 23:13–23:16He is now a highly successful top tier journalist.
461. 23:16–23:18So he achieves his goal too.
462. 23:18–23:19Yes.
463. 23:19–23:21As the story ends, he is packing his bags
464. 23:21–23:23to fly to New York to address the United Nations.
465. 23:23–23:26Before he leaves, he receives an invitation,
466. 23:26–23:29a Nimon Tran to one of Nita's dance performances.
467. 23:29–23:30And how does he react?
468. 23:30–23:32He feels absolutely nothing.
469. 23:32–23:33He just throws the invitation away
470. 23:33–23:35and heads to the airport.
471. 23:35–23:38Man, if we look at the sociological underpinnings
472. 23:38–23:41of Naman Tran, it is a tragic thesis
473. 23:41–23:44on the cost of modern success.
474. 23:44–23:47Both Sachin and Nita actually achieve exactly
475. 23:47–23:49what they set out to do professionally.
476. 23:49–23:49Right.
477. 23:49–23:50It makes it to America.
478. 23:50–23:52Sashaan makes it to the United Nations.
479. 23:52–23:55They win the game of urban ambition.
480. 23:55–23:59But the cost of that victory is the complete destruction of their traditional romantic
481. 23:59–24:00loyalty.
482. 24:00–24:06The city and the hyper-individualistic ambition it demands strips away their humanity and
483. 24:06–24:07their connection to each other.
484. 24:07–24:10They become successful, but they become entirely isolated.
485. 24:10–24:11Exactly.
486. 24:11–24:14They survived the city, but they lost their souls in the process.
487. 24:14–24:19Now, Utpal's second story in the anthology deals with the very different kind of urban
488. 24:19–24:26survival. This story is titled Gory Par-Shar-Leb-Hum Degree, which I absolutely love. It roughly
489. 24:26–24:29translates to, I'll take my degree riding on a horse.
490. 24:29–24:33It's a fantastic title, full of bravado.
491. 24:33–24:37And this story explores a struggle that millions of migrant students face, the crushing weight
492. 24:37–24:42of parental expectations, and the intense linguistic gatekeeping of the capital city.
493. 24:42–24:45A very real, very common story.
494. 24:45–24:47The story centers on a character named Alok Babu.
495. 24:47–24:50He's originally from Rhaepor.
496. 24:50–24:54And his trajectory is a wild ride of failures and pivots.
497. 24:54–24:55Because of his parents.
498. 24:55–24:58Yeah, his parents, like so many middle class parents
499. 24:58–25:00in the region, view education purely
500. 25:00–25:01as a financial investment.
501. 25:01–25:04They pressure him relentlessly to pass the exams
502. 25:04–25:06to become a chartered accountant, a CA.
503. 25:06–25:09It is seen as a safe, prestigious, money-making path.
504. 25:09–25:10But Alok isn't a numbers guy.
505. 25:10–25:11He fails the exams.
506. 25:11–25:14So his parents pivot and force him to study law.
507. 25:14–25:16also considered a safe bet.
508. 25:16–25:17But he is miserable.
509. 25:17–25:19To escape the suffocating pressure of his reality,
510. 25:19–25:21he obsessively consumes cinema,
511. 25:21–25:24and there's this one incredibly vivid detail in the text
512. 25:24–25:27that tells you everything you need to know about Alloc.
513. 25:27–25:28Oh, the Rotoract Club speech.
514. 25:28–25:29Yes.
515. 25:29–25:30Before he moves away,
516. 25:30–25:34he delivers this captivating all-night speech
517. 25:34–25:36at a local Rotoract Club meeting.
518. 25:36–25:38He holds the entire room spellbound
519. 25:38–25:40as he tells a story from his childhood.
520. 25:40–25:41It's a great scene.
521. 25:41–25:43He talks about having an incredibly strict father
522. 25:43–25:48how he once meticulously stole exactly three and a half rupees from his
523. 25:48–25:52grandfather's wallet just so he could sneak out and buy a ticket to watch a
524. 25:52–25:57Bollywood movie called Jung Buzz starring Govinda. That details stealing
525. 25:57–26:02exactly three and a half rupees for a movie ticket is brilliant writing. It
526. 26:02–26:06perfectly highlights the innocence of his small town past against the brutal
527. 26:06–26:09pressure cooker environment he's about to enter in Delhi. Because Delhi is a
528. 26:09–26:15completely different world. Right. And it also establishes who Alok really is. He isn't a corporate
529. 26:15–26:21drone. He's a natural storyteller. He's a creative soul being forced into rigid corporate boxes by
530. 26:21–26:25his parents' anxieties. And then the pressure cooker really amps up. He finally escapes the
531. 26:25–26:30law degree and convinces his family to let him move to Delhi to study journalism.
532. 26:30–26:35Specifically to Beresarai. Yes, he moves to a neighborhood called Burah Sarai. For our listeners
533. 26:35–26:42who don't know Delhi, Buresh Sarai is legendary. It is basically a dense chaotic hub packed with
534. 26:42–26:47thousands of migrant students living in knee-crampt rooms. All cramming for competitive exams,
535. 26:47–26:53all desperate to secure a future. Exactly. So Alok applies to study journalism at the
536. 26:53–27:00prestigious Hurethia Vidyabhafan. But here's where he hits a massive wall. Alok is terrified of the
537. 27:00–27:05English language. This is a profound and widespread phenomenon. He's a fluent Hindi
538. 27:05–27:10and Mathili speaker, but in the corridors of power in Delhi, English is the
539. 27:10–27:14ultimate gatekeeper. He views the polished English-speaking Delhi crowd
540. 27:14–27:19with a mix of absolute awe and sheer terror. Yeah. Have you ever tried to play a
541. 27:19–27:22game where everyone else seems to know the rules and you realize the referee
542. 27:22–27:26keeps changing the rules just to make sure you lose? That's exactly how it
543. 27:26–27:29feels. That's what Alluk feels like. It's a massive linguistic imposter
544. 27:29–27:34syndrome. He assumes that because he doesn't speak grammatically perfect English, he fundamentally
545. 27:34–27:39cannot compete in the capital. It's a huge barrier. He goes to take the journalism entrance exam,
546. 27:39–27:45which is conducted in English. He walks out of the exam hall completely defeated, absolutely convinced
547. 27:45–27:50he has failed. He tells his friend, I just don't know the English these deli people speak.
548. 27:50–27:55And his friend's response is one of the most honest assessments of urban posturing you
549. 27:55–27:56you will ever hear.
550. 27:56–27:57Yes.
551. 27:57–27:59His friend laughs and tells him a secret.
552. 27:59–28:03He says, listen, most of the people in Delhi
553. 28:03–28:07actually speak terrible, grammatically incorrect English,
554. 28:07–28:10but they speak it with so much confidence and arrogance
555. 28:10–28:12that it intimidates people like us from the villages.
556. 28:12–28:13It's all a bluff.
557. 28:13–28:14It's all a bluff.
558. 28:14–28:17And the proof comes when the results are posted.
559. 28:17–28:19A look almost doesn't even go to check the board
560. 28:19–28:20because he's so embarrassed.
561. 28:20–28:23But shockingly, he hasn't just passed the exam.
562. 28:23–28:24He has crushed it.
563. 28:24–28:25He does incredibly well.
564. 28:25–28:28He ranks fifth overall in the entire institution.
565. 28:28–28:33Which proves that his fundamental communication skills, his ability to actually observe the
566. 28:33–28:37world and telecompelling story, just like he did at the Rotorack Club with the three
567. 28:37–28:41and a half rupees, those skills transcend his grammatical insecurities.
568. 28:41–28:46The story ends by beautifully capturing the gritty, exhausted reality of his survival
569. 28:46–28:47in Delhi.
570. 28:47–28:52He lives on late night study sessions, drinking endless little cups of cheap tea, and surviving
571. 28:52–28:57on greasy bread pakoras from a local street vendor named Sharmaji.
572. 28:57–28:59It's the quintessential migrant student hustle.
573. 28:59–29:03But I want to ask you about the broader implications of Alec's struggle.
574. 29:03–29:07English was weaponized against him to make him feel inferior.
575. 29:07–29:11Does the language of our education dictate the limits of our ambition?
576. 29:11–29:13Because Alec almost gave up entirely.
577. 29:13–29:15He was very close to quitting.
578. 29:15–29:19Is his ultimate success proof that raw talent and street smarts can punch through that
579. 29:19–29:23linguistic barrier or is he just a lucky exception?
580. 29:23–29:27That is the core tension of the post-colonial migrant experience.
581. 29:27–29:31The language of the metropolis, in this case English acts as a deliberate gatekeeper.
582. 29:31–29:32Right?
583. 29:32–29:36It is designed to keep people like Alec out to preserve the elite status of those who
584. 29:36–29:39grew up in English medium schools.
585. 29:39–29:43Alec's fear is entirely justified by the systemic biases he faces.
586. 29:43–29:44It's a rigged game.
587. 29:44–29:49However, his story argues that while language dictates the terms of this travel, it
588. 29:49–29:52It doesn't have to dictate the limit of the ambition.
589. 29:52–29:58He weaponizes his street smarts and his innate storytelling ability to bypass the gatekeepers.
590. 29:58–30:00He beats them at their own game?
591. 30:00–30:01He does.
592. 30:01–30:05But we must acknowledge the immense psychological toll this takes.
593. 30:05–30:10The Linguistic Imposter Syndrome forces students from regional backgrounds to expend massive
594. 30:10–30:14amounts of emotional energy just to prove they belong in the room.
595. 30:14–30:18Energy that privileged students can spend entirely on their studies.
596. 30:18–30:19Exactly.
597. 30:19–30:23They basically have to run twice as fast, just to stay at the starting line.
598. 30:23–30:26We've seen the raw, working-class realities of the modern writers.
599. 30:26–30:29We've explored the geographical trauma of the cozy floods.
600. 30:29–30:33We've followed the youth like Alec Babu battling the linguistic gatekeepers of Delhi.
601. 30:33–30:35It's a lot of struggle.
602. 30:35–30:38But to really understand how Mathili literature got to a point where young people could
603. 30:38–30:41write these modern stories, we need to look back.
604. 30:41–30:45We need to look at the foundations, the giants whose shoulders Safi and Utpal are standing
605. 30:45–30:46on.
606. 30:46–30:47Yes.
607. 30:47–30:52provides a crucial historical anchor. It includes an incredibly detailed interview
608. 30:52–30:57with one of the absolute legends of Mathili literature, main in Mishra.
609. 30:57–31:02This interview was conducted by Vanit Udpal back in 2004 on the occasion of
610. 31:02–31:06Mishra winning the prestigious Proboed Saman Award. And you know as you read
611. 31:06–31:10through Mishra's life story it reads like a living history book of the
612. 31:10–31:14Mathili language itself throughout the 20th century. His biography perfectly
613. 31:14–31:18encapsulates all the major themes we've been discussing today. He was born in the early
614. 31:18–31:221930s. And what is the defining event of his childhood?
615. 31:22–31:26Let me guess, the river. In 1940, in 1941, his family is completely
616. 31:26–31:30displaced by the cozy flood. The unforgiving river strikes again. The
617. 31:30–31:34physical geography forces his family out of their home, displacing them to a place called
618. 31:34–31:38Govindpur. And around this same time, he suffers a profound personal
619. 31:38–31:42tragedy. He loses his mother. And out of that trauma and displacement, he turns
620. 31:42–31:48to writing to process his grief. His very first works, written around 1945, were devotional songs.
621. 31:48–31:50Right, very traditional.
622. 31:50–31:57He was writing deeply localized religious music, but then his literary evolution takes a really
623. 31:57–32:03fascinating turn. He doesn't stay in the realm of devotional music. In 1951, he writes a piece
624. 32:03–32:07called Bongak Lota, and it isn't a tragedy, it's a famous comedy.
625. 32:07–32:10And comedy, as we discussed with the Pat Nyabak anecdote earlier,
626. 32:10–32:14is often a crucial step in a culture's literary maturation.
627. 32:14–32:15Oh, so?
628. 32:15–32:17It allows the society to critique its own flaws
629. 32:17–32:19and absurdities safely.
630. 32:19–32:21You do it through the lens of humor
631. 32:21–32:23without inviting direct political retaliation.
632. 32:23–32:26But Mishra doesn't stop at comedy either.
633. 32:26–32:29As he matures and as India moves through the 50s and 60s,
634. 32:29–32:30his writing shifts again.
635. 32:30–32:32He gets much more complex.
636. 32:32–32:34He moves into deep, serious, psychological,
637. 32:34–32:37and highly experimental poetry and prose.
638. 32:37–32:39The interview mentions monumental works
639. 32:39–32:43like Agmo Amapithar, which translates to fire, wax, and stone,
640. 32:43–32:45and another work called Deschanteur.
641. 32:45–32:46Yeah, these are heavy pieces.
642. 32:46–32:48He starts writing complex, challenging narratives
643. 32:48–32:52about existential dread, social struggle, and human psychology.
644. 32:52–32:54What is truly fascinating here is how
645. 32:54–32:57Mishra's personal literary evolution
646. 32:57–33:00mirrors the evolution of the Methili language's status
647. 33:00–33:01on the national stage.
648. 33:01–33:03Oh, that's an interesting parallel.
649. 33:03–33:06It moves from the localized religious sphere devotional
650. 33:06–33:11songs sung in village courtyards to light entertainment and comedy, and finally into
651. 33:11–33:17a robust, muscular, modern literary form capable of grappling with the most complex psychological
652. 33:17–33:19themes of the 20th century.
653. 33:19–33:24I look at Maine and Mishra's career trajectory, you know, moving from simple devotional songs
654. 33:24–33:29to heavy experimental psychological poetry, and I have to ask, is that progression
655. 33:29–33:30a requirement?
656. 33:30–33:31What do you mean?
657. 33:31–33:36Like, does a regional language have to prove it can do the heavy, depressing, psychological
658. 33:36–33:41lifting in order to be taken seriously by the national establishment. Like the Beatles
659. 33:41–33:45going from pop to state pepper. Can't a language just be respected for its comedy and its folk
660. 33:45–33:50songs? It's a great question. And the unfortunate reality of literary institutions is that,
661. 33:50–33:53yes, they demand a certain type of gravitas before they confer recognition.
662. 33:53–33:58They want the serious stuff. Right. A language must demonstrate that it is an intellectual
663. 33:58–34:04vehicle capable of holding the full spectrum of the human experience. Folk songs and comedy are
664. 34:04–34:07often dismissed by national academies as provincial or quaint.
665. 34:07–34:09That's a shame, but I get it.
666. 34:09–34:13To be recognized alongside towering languages like Hindi or Bengali,
667. 34:13–34:17Mathili had to prove it could articulate tragedy, complexity,
668. 34:17–34:18and modern alienation.
669. 34:19–34:25Meina and Mishra, through sheer force of intellect, proved that Mathili could do exactly that.
670. 34:25–34:29And he didn't just prove it on the page, he fought for it in the halls of power.
671. 34:29–34:33Mishra didn't just write in isolation, he actively advocated for his language.
672. 34:33–34:34He was a major political force.
673. 34:34–34:38He associated with titans of Indian literature, massive figures like
674. 34:38–34:44Phanashwaranath Reynu and Ramdari Singh Dinkar, and he was instrumental in a monumental political
675. 34:44–34:48victory, getting Mitheli officially recognized by the Sahitya Academy.
676. 34:48–34:53Which is huge for our global listeners. The Sahitya Academy is India's national academy
677. 34:53–34:58of letters. It is the highest literary authority in the country. Getting a language recognized
678. 34:58–35:03by them isn't just a symbolic trophy. It unlocks funding. It allows the language to be taught
679. 35:03–35:08in universities. It preserves it for the future. The interview notes that this recognition was
680. 35:08–35:14heavily influenced by a direct meeting Mishra and his contemporaries had with Prime Minister
681. 35:14–35:19Jawaharlal Nehru. That's right. He took the fight from the flooded villages of Bihar directly to
682. 35:19–35:24the Prime Minister of India. And his ultimate belief stated at the end of the interview is
683. 35:24–35:30simple but incredibly profound. He says the Bhati will always remain.
684. 35:30–35:34Vijapati being of course the iconic 14th century mythilly poet
685. 35:34–35:39whose work forms the bedrock of their culture. Right. Mishra believed that if they fought for
686. 35:39–35:43the language its roots were deep enough to survive any modern storm. Mishra represents a
687. 35:43–35:48generation that carried the weight of a culture on their backs. They fought to legitimize the
688. 35:48–35:53language institutionally. By securing that recognition from the Sathya Academy, they
689. 35:53–35:58They built the foundation that allows the current generation writers like Safi and Udpul
690. 35:58–36:04to write their raw modern stories about bicycle shops and deli cyber cafes without constantly
691. 36:04–36:07having to justify the very existence of the language itself.
692. 36:07–36:11But as we move into the final segment of our deep dive, we see that the battle for the
693. 36:11–36:14Mithili language is far from over.
694. 36:14–36:16It hasn't ended, it has just shifted arenas.
695. 36:16–36:17Exactly.
696. 36:17–36:22We're moving from the preservation of language in the pages of literature to the weaponization
697. 36:22–36:25of language on the international political stage.
698. 36:25–36:28This brings us to the Kathmandu controversy.
699. 36:28–36:33This is arguably the most explosive and revealing piece of source material in the entire anthology.
700. 36:33–36:38It shows us what happens when language, identity and state power collide in real time.
701. 36:38–36:39It really does.
702. 36:39–36:43This section is a journalistic report written by Sujit Kumarja.
703. 36:43–36:47It details a highly publicized incident involving the president of Nepal at the time, Dr. Ram
704. 36:47–36:49Buranyadav.
705. 36:49–36:51And here is the crucial context for that.
706. 36:51–36:52Yeah, please.
707. 36:52–36:54Dr. Yadav is a native Methil.
708. 36:54–36:56He was born into the culture.
709. 36:56–36:58Methili is his mother tongue.
710. 36:58–37:00Okay, so he's one of them.
711. 37:00–37:05Yes, and he is invited to attend the International Methili Conference, which is being held in
712. 37:05–37:08Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal.
713. 37:08–37:14The entire stage is set specifically to celebrate and promote the Methili language.
714. 37:14–37:15Right, the scenario we talked about in the intro.
715. 37:15–37:20So Dr. Yadav walks up to the podium, he looks out at an audience of his own people,
716. 37:20–37:24And he chooses to deliver his entire speech in Nepali.
717. 37:24–37:25The official state language.
718. 37:25–37:26Yes.
719. 37:26–37:31And the reaction from the Mathill community was immediate, visceral, and furious.
720. 37:31–37:33Furious feels like an understatement.
721. 37:33–37:38The report cites over 40 angry Facebook posts from community members that flooded the internet
722. 37:38–37:39instantly.
723. 37:39–37:40Critics were absolutely livid.
724. 37:40–37:43They felt he hadn't just made a scheduling error.
725. 37:43–37:46They felt he had actively abandoned his roots for political safety.
726. 37:46–37:48And it wasn't just the words he spoke either.
727. 37:48–37:49No.
728. 37:49–37:55he was wearing. The critics pointed out that upon becoming president, Dr. Yadav swapped
729. 37:55–38:01his traditional Mayfield attire, the Doti Krutah, which is historically associated with the Mayfield
730. 38:01–38:07people of the Parai Plains, for the official Nepali national dress, the Dar-a-sur-Wol.
731. 38:07–38:09Which is historically associated with the hill elites of Nepal.
732. 38:09–38:14Right. Even at a conference dedicated to his own culture, they noted bitterly he wouldn't
733. 38:14–38:17take off the Nepali hat.
734. 38:17–38:22The visual symbolism of the clothing change deeply compounded the linguistic choice.
735. 38:22–38:26In the volatile ethnic politics of Nepal, where the Ptareit plains communities have historically
736. 38:26–38:32felt marginalized by the hill-centric government in Kathmandu, the duty kuta versus the door
737. 38:32–38:34suruwal isn't just about fashion.
738. 38:34–38:35It's a political statement.
739. 38:35–38:36It's about allegiance.
740. 38:36–38:40To the audience, his choice of dress and language was perceived as a total shedding
741. 38:40–38:45of his ethnic identity in favor of a homogenized, state-approved national identity.
742. 38:45–38:50The article makes this really sharp biting contrast to drive the point home.
743. 38:50–38:55It points out that when US President Barack Obama visited India, he made a deliberate effort
744. 38:55–38:58to speak a few words of Hindi to win the hearts of the people.
745. 38:58–38:59Right.
746. 38:59–39:00Diplomacy 101.
747. 39:00–39:05The article asks, if an American president can speak Hindi to show respect, why couldn't
748. 39:05–39:11a native Mathille president bring himself to speak Mathilly at a Mathille conference?
749. 39:11–39:13It's a potent question.
750. 39:13–39:16But I have to stop here and ask you a skeptical question, because looking at this from the
751. 39:16–39:19outside, I don't entirely get the anger.
752. 39:19–39:20Okay, lay it on me.
753. 39:20–39:25If you were the president of an entire nation, doesn't your job description fundamentally
754. 39:25–39:26change?
755. 39:26–39:30Dr. Yadav represents all of Nepal, a country with dozens of different ethnic groups and
756. 39:30–39:31languages.
757. 39:31–39:35If he goes to a conference and speaks his specific regional dialect, doesn't that
758. 39:35–39:37alienate the rest of the country?
759. 39:37–39:38I see where you're going.
760. 39:38–39:42Isn't speaking Nepali just standard protocol for the head of state?
761. 39:42–39:47Why is following basic state protocol seen as a profound betrayal?
762. 39:47–39:52That is exactly the defense that his political allies would use, and it is a completely valid
763. 39:52–39:55perspective from the viewpoint of statecraft.
764. 39:55–39:58As president, he is the symbol of national unity.
765. 39:58–40:03Speaking the official language, wearing the official dress, is a calculated move to
766. 40:03–40:07project cohesion and demonstrate that he is not playing favorites with his own ethnic
767. 40:07–40:08group.
768. 40:08–40:09Right, that makes sense.
769. 40:09–40:15We have to look at this impartially and understand the mechanics of minority erasure.
770. 40:15–40:18For a dominant group, standard protocol feels like unity.
771. 40:18–40:23For a marginalized group, standard protocol often feels like forced assimilation.
772. 40:23–40:24Okay, unpack that for me.
773. 40:24–40:26How does protocol become assimilation?
774. 40:26–40:28Think about the venue.
775. 40:28–40:29It wasn't a general address to the nation.
776. 40:29–40:32It was the International Methylhe Conference.
777. 40:32–40:34The context matters.
778. 40:34–40:37To bring in the final piece of source material from our anthology, which adds immense
779. 40:37–40:39academic weight to their anger.
780. 40:39–40:42The text cites article two of a UNESCO convention.
781. 40:42–40:44What does the convention say?
782. 40:44–40:50This convention defines intangible cultural heritage as the practices, expressions, knowledge
783. 40:50–40:55and skills transmitted across generations that provide a community with a sense of identity
784. 40:55–40:57and continuity.
785. 40:57–41:02Language is the ultimate primary vehicle for intangible cultural heritage.
786. 41:02–41:06If a language is not spoken in the public sphere, if it is relegated only to the private
787. 41:06–41:09home, it begins to die.
788. 41:09–41:10It loses its power.
789. 41:10–41:15So when the president, the most powerful Mayfield person in the country, chose not to speak
790. 41:15–41:19the language at a conference specifically dedicated to its survival, the audience felt he was
791. 41:19–41:23validating the state's historical marginalization of their culture.
792. 41:23–41:25So to them, it wasn't just protocol.
793. 41:25–41:26No.
794. 41:26–41:30To them, he was actively participating in the erasure of their heritage on the very
795. 41:30–41:31stagement to celebrate it.
796. 41:31–41:34It's like the concept of the costume of the soul.
797. 41:34–41:38He's standing up there wearing the physical national costume of the state, the Dorasua
798. 41:38–41:39Wall.
799. 41:39–41:43But the audience feels that by refusing to speak the language, he has entirely stripped
800. 41:43–41:45off the linguistic costume of his soul.
801. 41:45–41:47That's a beautiful way to put it.
802. 41:47–41:53So looking at this incredibly tense situation, at what point does necessary political assimilation
803. 41:53–41:56cross the line and become cultural erasure?
804. 41:56–42:01Is it actually possible to reach the highest levels of national or international power
805. 42:01–42:05without leaving your mother tongue, your specific identity at the door.
806. 42:05–42:09That is the ultimate crucible of modern minority politics all over the world,
807. 42:09–42:13not just in Nepal. There is no easy mathematical answer.
808. 42:13–42:13Yeah.
809. 42:13–42:18The line between assimilation and erasure is entirely subjective, and it depends entirely on
810. 42:18–42:24where you are standing. For the state, assimilation is a necessary tool for survival and cohesion.
811. 42:24–42:26A fractured state is a weak state.
812. 42:26–42:27True.
813. 42:27–42:30But for the minority community, assimilation is a slow death.
814. 42:30–42:36It is the gradual fading of their unique voice into the background noise of the majority.
815. 42:36–42:40The intense fiery reaction to the president's speech in Kathmandu shows that for the Mothill
816. 42:40–42:44community their language is not just a tool for asking for directions or buying groceries.
817. 42:44–42:45It's much deeper than that.
818. 42:45–42:50It is the very bedrock of their political, historical, and cultural existence.
819. 42:50–42:54To lose the language in the public sphere is to lose their visibility as a people.
820. 42:54–42:56Which brings us full circle.
821. 42:56–43:00We have been on an immense journey today through the pages of Vedea Sadeja 35.
822. 43:00–43:01We truly have.
823. 43:01–43:06We have seen the full, vibrant, and sometimes painful spectrum of a culture in perpetual
824. 43:06–43:07motion.
825. 43:07–43:12We started by looking at the raw, unvarnished truth of modern Maitrela identity.
826. 43:12–43:17We saw young writers like Safi completely rejecting the sanitized elite histories
827. 43:17–43:21of the past, choosing instead to write honestly about the struggles of washing
828. 43:21–43:25clothes and running bicycle shops, democratizing the literature in the process.
829. 43:25–43:30necessary reckoning. Then we unpacked the terrifying geographical reality of the
830. 43:30–43:35Coasey River and the profound necessary fatalism that allows a community to
831. 43:35–43:39survive mass drownings and find the strength to rebuild their lives in the mud.
832. 43:39–43:44A literal survival mechanism. We followed the youth exodus watching students like
833. 43:44–43:48Alak Babu flee to the cramped rooms of Delhi battling the linguistic imposter
834. 43:48–43:52syndrome of the English language and sacrificing their traditional notions
835. 43:52–43:55of romance for the cold demands of urban ambition.
836. 43:55–43:56The modern struggle.
837. 43:56–44:01We also looked backward, honoring the immense foundational work of giants like Mayn and Mishra
838. 44:01–44:06who lived through those devastating floods, evolved the language from village comedy to
839. 44:06–44:11serious experimental poetry, and fought the political battles necessary to get mythally
840. 44:11–44:14recognized by the National Academy.
841. 44:14–44:16Giving the next generation a platform.
842. 44:16–44:21And finally, we saw how all of that history, all of that trauma, and all of that passion
843. 44:21–44:25boils over onto the modern political stage in Kathmandu.
844. 44:25–44:30We saw how the simple choice between speaking Nepali or speaking Mithili at a podium becomes
845. 44:30–44:34a fiery existential debate about the survival of the culture itself.
846. 44:34–44:40It is a complex, deeply beautiful and incredibly resilient cultural landscape.
847. 44:40–44:44They are the people who refuse to be quietly washed away by the river or by the state.
848. 44:44–44:45They truly are.
849. 44:45–44:49And I want to leave you the listener with one final provocative thought to mull over.
850. 44:49–44:54It connects back to that UNESCO definition of intangible heritage we just talked about.
851. 44:54–44:58The document explicitly states that heritage isn't a static museum piece.
852. 44:58–45:02It is something that is constantly recreated by communities in response to their environment
853. 45:02–45:03and their history.
854. 45:03–45:04It has to adapt.
855. 45:04–45:05Exactly.
856. 45:05–45:10Perhaps the survival of the Methili identity or any regional identity facing the crush
857. 45:10–45:14of globalization isn't about freezing it in the past.
858. 45:14–45:18It's not just about staying in the village, wearing the traditional clothes, and speaking
859. 45:18–45:20the absolute, purest, oldest form of the language.
860. 45:20–45:21Because that's not living.
861. 45:21–45:22Right.
862. 45:22–45:26If a culture can adapt to the chaotic cyber cafes and the brutal competitive exams of
863. 45:26–45:33Delhi, if it can produce raw, working-class autobiographies that challenge the patriarchy,
864. 45:33–45:37and if it has the political energy to force fiery debates on the international stages
865. 45:37–45:43of Kathmandu, maybe the true test of a language isn't its historical purity.
866. 45:43–45:46Maybe the true test is its elasticity.
867. 45:46–45:47Can it stretch without breaking?
868. 45:47–45:52Can a culture bend to the neon lights, the concrete and the English demands of the modern
869. 45:52–45:56world without breaking its deep ancient ties to the soil?
870. 45:56–46:01As you imagine standing on that bridge between the ancient village and the globalized city,
871. 46:01–46:04maybe the answer isn't that you have to choose just one side.
872. 46:04–46:08Maybe the language itself constantly evolving, constantly fighting is the bridge.
873. 46:08–46:10That's a powerful thought.
874. 46:10–46:14Thank you for joining us on this deep dive into the fascinating turbulent world of
875. 46:14–46:16the Mephili cultural landscape.
876. 46:16–46:20Keep questioning the world around you, keep learning, and we'll catch you next time.

Plain text

Imagine you are the president of your country. Like, you've spent your entire life climbing this incredibly treacherous ladder of national politics. Right. Decades of work. Decades! And you've finally reached the summit. And now you're invited to step up to the podium at a major, highly publicized international conference. Okay. Setting the scene. Yeah. And the entire purpose of this specific conference is to celebrate your native language, like the language of your ancestors. The language you literally spoke as a child. Exactly, the mother tongue of the specific ethnic group you were born into. So you look out into the crowd, you see your people looking back at you, waiting to hear their language validated on the world stage by the highest office in the land. Which is a huge deal for any community. Oh, absolutely massive. But then you lean into the microphone and you refuse to speak it. Wow. Yeah, you completely ignore it, and you choose to speak the official standardized language of the state instead. See, it's that kind of moment that doesn't just, you know, start a political debate. It starts a full-on cultural firestorm. Because it touches a nerve so deep that people don't just feel disappointed. They feel actively erased. Right, exactly. And today we are taking a deep dive into a culture that is quite literally fighting for its life. I mean, they're fighting against devastating annual floods. They're fighting the relentless pull of mega cities. And as we just hinted at, they are fighting their own politicians. It's a fight on every front. So welcome to the Deep Dive. Today we're immersing ourselves in this massive, incredibly multi-layered document that just captures the struggle perfectly. Yeah, it really does. It's called Videja Sadeja 35, and it's a volume four anthology from a Mathili e-journal, which is edited by Gojendra Thakur. Now if you are listening to this and wondering what exactly is Mathili, let's just quickly set the stage. Good idea. an Indo-Aryan language and it is spoken by tens of millions of people primarily in the Bihar region of India and also the Eastern Terai region of Nepal. And historically, I mean it is a language with this incredibly rich deep literary tradition. Oh, absolutely. But what makes this specific anthology, the day I said, day 35, so vital is that it isn't just, you know, looking backward at some golden age. Right. It's staring unflinchingly at the present day. It really is. And you know, even before you read a single word, the document just sets a tone. Like visually it is straight. Oh, the artwork is amazing. You open it up and you're immediately greeted with this traditional Mayfield art. There's this deeply intricate white circular mandala and it's set against this textured blood red background. It just feels so ancient and grounded. Right. But then you turn the page and there's another drawing. It's intensely colored in red and blue and it depicts the traditional drum, a bow And this, well, this really fascinating, almost chaotic winged creature. Yeah, that winged creature is so striking. And honestly, it perfectly represents the text itself. How so? Well, because the anthology isn't just one thing. It's this wild, completely unfiltered mix of short stories and biting literary critiques and then deeply personal memoirs and hard-hitting journalistic reports. Which is exactly what you need, right? I mean, if you're trying to understand a society that is in the midst of a massive transition. Exactly. A culture is never a monolith. Its literature shouldn't be either. You need the poetry just as much as you need the journalism if you want to see the full picture. So our mission for you on this deep dive is to map out this shifting landscape. By unpacking these wildly diverse writings, we're going to explore how the Mayfield community navigates the tension between honoring their ancient roots and, well, basically just surviving the modern world. It's a huge balancing act. It is. We're going to look at the raw truth of their working class, the terrifying reality of their geography, the exodus of their youth, and the really intense political battles over their identity. And I've brought you here to help us sort of connect the dots between these incredibly personal stories and the massive sociological shifts happening in the background. I am ready. I mean, the material we have today is remarkable because it shows us a culture that's actively wrestling with its own reflection. It's not a static museum exhibit. It's a living, breathing cultural organism that is figuring out how to survive in the 21st century. Okay, so let's start with that reflection. Because think about how we tell our own stories today. If you go on social media, you usually see a highly curated version of someone's life, right? Well, of course, the highlight reel. Exactly. The promotion, the amazing vacation, the perfect relationship, you rarely see like the bank account over drafts or the arguments. All right. Well, historically, literature has functioned in a very similar way. And this anthology kicks off with a massive shift in how the Maitre people are choosing to write about themselves. Moving away from the filter. Yes. We're moving from a polished, sanitized past to a very gritty, unvarnished present. I want to look at a literary critique in the anthology written by a man named Ashish Ankenhar. Oh yeah, Ankenhar's critique is fantastic. He's reviewing a book by Sandeep Kumar Safi, which is titled, Bay Shock May Dalin Par. And this critique by Ankenhar is basically foundational to understanding modern, mathy literature. He is essentially blowing the whistle on the literary establishment. He holds absolutely nothing back. Anjanhar completely dismantles the tradition of Mithili autobiographies. He argues that historically these autobiographies have been entirely sanitized. Right. He uses this really stark terminology referring to the white side and the black side of society. Yeah, it's a very vivid dichotomy. He says that the older generation of writers only ever showed the white side. Like they highlighted the glory, the intellectual achievements, the positive aspects of their lives. Sure. But they deliberately systematically hid the black side. They hid the poverty, the failures, the immense social inequalities, the manual labor. It created this grand illusion of a flawless, elevated society. Which is, of course, impossible. Right. But why? Why go to such lengths to pretend everything is perfect? Well, to understand that, you really have to look at the mechanics of caste and social hierarchy in the region. Okay. Layed out for us. Historically, literature in this part of the world was dominated by the elite castes. In the context of Mithili literature, this primarily meant the Brahmin and Chayesta communities. Got it. The Brahmins traditionally represent the priestly and scholarly class, while the Chayestas represent the scribes and administrators. So they were the ones with the power of the pen. Exactly. When you have an absolute monopoly on the written word, your literature serves a very specific political and social function. It reinforces your position at the top of the hierarchy. Oh, I see. You present an idealized version of your life because your life is supposed to be the societal ideal. So admitting to failure or struggle would basically crack the facade. Exactly. If the scholarly class admits that they're, you know, struggling to feed their families or that their societal structures are deeply unjust, it undermines the very justification for their elite status. The sanitization wasn't just a stylistic choice. It was a mechanism of power. That makes total sense, and that actually brings us to why Anshunhar is so thrilled with Sandeep Kumar's Saffi's book. Anshunhar praises Saffi precisely because his writing shatters that traditional Brahmin and Kayaastah dominance. Saffi embraces the raw, unfiltered reality of the working class and the Dalit communities. Right, the communities that have historically been pushed to the very bottom of the caste system. And entirely excluded from the literary narrative. Saffi's doing something deeply subversive here. He's taking the prestigious form of literature and using it to document lives that were previously deemed unworthy of the written word. And the details in the text are just so grounded. Like, Sophie doesn't write about grand philosophical debates in village courtyards. No, not at all. He writes about the physical exhaustion of washing clothes. He writes about migrating to a massive tech hub like Bangalore, but not to work as a software engineer. Right, to work as a cook. Exactly. He documents the shift away from traditional prestigious salary jobs toward gritty blue-collar survival, like opening a bicycle repair shop. It's a huge pivot. But I want to ask you about the impact of this, because for a listener who might not be familiar with the intense stratification of Indian society, why is writing a story about a bicycle repair shop seen as such a revolutionary act? Because in a deeply stratified society, manual labor is inherently stigmatized. It's tied entirely to your caste and your perceived purity. Oh, wow. Okay. to be educated, to be part of the literary elite. Historically meant that you did not work with your hands. Your hands were for holding a pen, not a wrench. That is a stark divide. So when a writer proudly claims that space, when Safi says, yes, I wash clothes, I cook food in Bangalore, I fix bicycles and my life is complex and worthy of exploration, he is completely democratizing the mythilli language. He's taking it back from the elite. Exactly. He's unmooring it from the elite casts. It forces the reader to recognize the humanity and the intellectual depth of the working class. It's a society finally willing to look at its own true reflection without the Instagram filter. And they aren't just unmasking class and labor either. They're unmasking gender dynamics as well. There's this quick, brilliant little anecdote buried in this critique that I absolutely loved. It's referred to as the Patnebacht anecdote. Patnebacht meaning the wife worshiper. It's a phenomenal cultural snapshot. It really is. So picture this, there's a large communal feast. Everyone is sitting down, getting ready to eat, but one man is missing. Feku Babu is late. Right. So someone in the crowd casually mentions that Feku Babu isn't there yet because he's a pet nabacht, a wife worshiper. And why is he late? The reason he's late is that he is at home massaging his wife's feet. Which to this group is hilarious. The whole group erupts into mocking laughter. It's clearly meant to be this emasculating insult. The idea that a man would lower himself to serve his wife in that way is laughable to them. Right, it goes against the entire patriarchal structure. But then his friend, Soothe here, steps in. Soothe here looks at the group, defends his friend and drops this incredible line. He asks them, is it a bad thing to be a wife worshiper? Is it better to be a prostitute worshiper? It's the ultimate conversation stopper. Oh, completely. The text actually notes that the moment Soothe here says this, The room goes dead silent, and all you can hear is the sound of people suddenly eagerly eating their food. Just aggressively chewing. Yes. They just put their heads down and shut up. It's hilarious, but it's also incredibly sharp. It is sharp because it uses humor to expose the hypocrisy of patriarchal norms. I mean, the men of the feast find it laughable that a man would show tender, subservient affection to his own wife. Right. Yet the unspoken reality that Suthir points out is that society often turns a blind eye to men who exploit women or engage in infidelity. Sooth here is highlighting a twisted moral compass where public affection for a spouse is mocked, but private vice is tolerated. It's just a small anecdote, but it feels massive in its implications. It is massive, and it raises a really fascinating point about how literature functions as a trailing indicator of social change. What do you mean by trailing indicator? Think about the timeline. By the time an anecdote about a man defending massaging his wife's feet, or a story about working as a cook in Bangalore, is actually written down, published in a book, and then celebrated in a formal literary critique. The society has already changed. Exactly. The society has already shifted. Literature is often the last place to catch up. The unmasking, the challenging of the patriarchy, the democratization of labor, these things have already been happening in the private sphere. In the living rooms and the bicycle shops. Sophie is just finally giving it a public voice. So the social landscape is shifting beneath their feet. The old hierarchies are being challenged. But as we move to the next part of the anthology, we see that while society changes, the physical landscape they inhabit remains terrifyingly constant. Yeah, nature doesn't care about social progress. Exactly. Specifically, we have to talk about their vulnerability to the natural world. Because if you live in this region, you live at the mercy of the Coasea River. You truly cannot understand the Matherl cultural identity or their literature without understanding their relationship with water. Right. The transition from social critiques to environmental trauma in this anthology is jarring, but it's absolutely fundamental to their reality. For our listeners who might not be geographers, let's explain the Coasey River, because this isn't just a gentle stream that occasionally gets a little high in the spring. No, no. The Kosi River is historically known as the Sorrow of Bihar. It originates up in the Himalayas and flows down through Nepal into the flat plains of Bihar, India. And what makes it so dangerous? It's the silt. The river carries massive, unimaginable amounts of sand and silt down from the mountains. Over time, this silt builds up and essentially clogs the river's own channel. So the water has to go somewhere else. Exactly. So the river naturally and violently shifts its course. It doesn't just overflow its banks. It carves entirely new paths across the landscape, wiping out everything in its way. Which means you could build a village miles away from the river, and 10 years later, the river could literally run right through your living room. The anthology tackles this head-on. It features a poetic response to one of the most devastating recent events. There's a piece by Varendra Kumaryadov where he's praising a poem written by Rajdev Mendal. And this poem is about the 2008 Kusaha flood. which is deeply etched into the memory of this region as the cozy tragedy. In 2008, the river breached its embankments at Kusaha in Nepal. It essentially abandoned its established channel and swept across areas that hadn't seen a flood in decades. Millions of people were displaced overnight. Just staggering numbers. And Yadav notes how Mandel's poem captures the sheer unadulterated agony of the people trapped by those rising waters. Is this real? Yadav writes that it was a disaster that made the hair stand on end for people watching it on the news all over the world, but, you know, for the Mayfield people it wasn't a news story. It was their lives being washed away. Exactly. They're a community defined by a horrific duality. The river is the absolute source of their agricultural livelihood. The water brings the silt and makes the soil fertile. It is water as life. But simultaneously, it's a monster that can destroy generations of work in a single night. It is water as death. And that psychological duality is incredibly difficult to live with. I mean, how do you love the land that constantly tries to kill you? That exact question is explored in, I think, is the most haunting piece in the entire anthology. It's a short story called Na Arjindagi, which translates directly to boat and life. A very fitting title. This story doesn't deal with the macro-politics of river management, though. It zooms in on one highly specific, devastating date, August 11th, 2010. a date that clearly serves as a marker of communal trauma. Yeah. The story sets the scene in Quattol village, right on the banks of the Toljiga River, and the atmosphere at the beginning of the story is actually joyous. Which is such a contrast to what's coming. Exactly. There's this festive energy. People in the village are rushing to get onto the small boat because they're heading across the river to attend a feast. You can picture the chaos, right? The bright clothes, the chatter, the excitement. But in their excitement, they completely ignore the danger. They just keep piling onto this small boat far beyond its capacity. It's a localized tragedy, but it really speaks to a broader numbness to danger. What do you mean? Well, when you live surrounded by water, a small overloaded boat probably feels like an acceptable daily risk. Right up until the moment it isn't. That is such a good point. So they launch into the river and halfway across the inevitable happens. The water starts breaching the sides of the boat. And panic sets in. Instant panic. The festive mood just shatters, people start screaming, trying to shift their weight, which obviously only makes it worse. Yeah, tipping the boat further. Exactly, the boat capsizes, and the story describes the river as a monster opening its mouth to swallow the people whole. It is a horrific mass drowning, turning a day of celebration into a nightmare in a matter of seconds. The speed of that transition from celebration to absolute devastation is the hallmark of life in a flood prone geography. But it's the aftermath of the sinking that I really can't stop thinking about. The story shifts focus to a woman named Rathia. She survived, but she has lost her family. Oh, it's heartbreaking. She is on the riverbank, wailing, literally physically beating her chest. She is mourning the loss of her loved ones, but also the total destruction of her future. She cries out over and over that her diamond has been lost. It's the primal sound of grief. It is. But then her young daughter, Munion, walks up to her. And you would expect the child to be crying too. But Munion is chillingly calm. Right. She looks at her grieving mother and tells her to have patience. She says that no one knows when or how they will die. And then she delivers this line that just floored me. We brought our own fate into this world. We brought our own fate into this world. It is a profound, almost staggering moment of fatalism from a child. It really is. She's saying that birth and death are inextricably linked, and whatever happens, even drowning on the way to a feast, was simply written in the stars before they were even born. I have to push back on this though, or at least try to understand the mechanics of this mindset because you know, to a western ear or to anyone outside of this reality, that fatalism sounds like giving up. Okay, how so? Let me use an analogy. Imagine you build your dream house on the side of an active volcano. Dangerous choice, but okay. Right. You know, scientifically that it is going to erupt eventually. Ten years later, it erupts and burns your house to the ground. If you stand in the ashes and just shrug and say, well, it was fate, isn't that a sign of complete cultural defeat? I see you're just like... Like why not just move away from the volcano? Is Minion's fatalism a surrender, or is it actually a survival mechanism? It is absolutely a survival mechanism. Yeah. And a highly evolved one. Really? Let's look at the psychology of your volcano analogy. If you believe that you have total control over your environment, if you believe that human agency is supreme, then a disaster like the Coasea Flood or a mass drowning will entirely shatter your worldview. Because it proves you were in control. Exactly. You will be paralyzed by the profound injustice of it. You will drive yourself mad asking why me, why my family. But if you adopt a worldview of fatalism, if you accept that the river's wrath is preordained, that the cosmos has a plan that you cannot possibly comprehend or alter, then the trauma is categorized differently in your brain. So it removes the burden of the why? Precisely. It neutralizes the existential dread. It isn't that they don't feel the pain, Ruthie is clearly in agony. But fatalism provides a framework to process the unprocessable. It isn't a religious platitude, it is a psychological shield forged by centuries of living at the mercy of an under forgiving geography. It is the only way you can wake up the next morning. That makes a lot of sense. It's the belief system that allows Rathia to eventually stop whaling. And it's the exact mechanism that allows communities to build a new boat and plant new seeds in the very mud that just drown their neighbors. They stay because it's their home. Yes. It is their land, their identity. And fatalism is the armor they wear to survive staying. That is fascinating. So the water displaces them physically and And their philosophy is what allows them to survive that displacement mentally. Well put. But the anthology immediately pivots. Because right now, there is a different kind of displacement happening and it has nothing to do with water. Right. A modern displacement. It is the economic and educational displacement of the youth? The youth exodus. It is the defining demographic earthquake of modern India and Nepal. Because there just aren't enough opportunities in the villages. Exactly. The agrarian village economy simply cannot support the ambitions or the population of the rising generation. And the Macell youth are caught right in the center of this massive migration to the megacities. And the anthology captures this beautifully with two short stories by the writer Vanit Utpal. These stories perfectly encapsulate the modern urban struggle. Utpal is a very sharp observer of urban life. The first story is called Nimantren, which means invitation. And honestly, it is a deeply cynical, heartbreaking look at how modern ambition destroys traditional relationships. New Mentran is a brilliant exploration of the transactional nature of urban life. It asks what happens to loyalty when upward mobility becomes the ultimate goal. Let me walk you through it. The story follows a young couple, Sokshin, who is an aspiring journalist, and Nita, who is a talented cathok dancer. Okay. The narrative spans across multiple cities. They move through Paritabad, Agra and eventually deli they meet they fall deeply in love and sachin makes massive life-altering sacrifices for her like what? Well, he gets into a minor dispute at his job And he basically uses it as an excuse to just quit in anger so he can move to deli specifically to be closer to nita Oh, yeah, he acts as her whole support system. He builds her website. He promotes her art He's entirely devoted to her success, but then the turning point happens Anita gets a prestigious scholarship to go to America. And the geographic distance immediately reveals the fragile nature of their bond. Instantly. The moment she crosses the ocean, the dynamic completely flips. She stops returning his calls with the same enthusiasm. The classic fadeout. Right. Eventually she calls Sachin to deliver the final blow. She tells him that she is marrying someone else, an affluent man named Samarendra. Ouch. And she coldly cuts ties with Sachin, essentially telling him that a life with him wouldn't align with her new trajectory. She makes a calculated, brutal choice. She looks at her life as a ledger, and she determines that Samarandra is a better asset for her new, upwardly mobile life in America than Sochyn. Even though Sochyn sacrificed everything for her. Right, she trades loyalty for ambition. And the story gets so incredibly dark from there. Sochyn is completely devastated. And his heartbreak and his fury, he essentially curses her. He wishes ill upon her. That's intense. And shockingly, a little while later, Samarandrass suddenly dies. Oh wow. I know. And what does Neeta do? She actually calls Sajin not to apologize, but to blame him. She accuses him of killing her husband with his curse. So the relationship ends in just total toxicity. Total toxic alienation. The story then jumps forward many years. Sajin has channeled all his pain into his career. He is now a highly successful top tier journalist. So he achieves his goal too. Yes. As the story ends, he is packing his bags to fly to New York to address the United Nations. Before he leaves, he receives an invitation, a Nimon Tran to one of Nita's dance performances. And how does he react? He feels absolutely nothing. He just throws the invitation away and heads to the airport. Man, if we look at the sociological underpinnings of Naman Tran, it is a tragic thesis on the cost of modern success. Both Sachin and Nita actually achieve exactly what they set out to do professionally. Right. It makes it to America. Sashaan makes it to the United Nations. They win the game of urban ambition. But the cost of that victory is the complete destruction of their traditional romantic loyalty. The city and the hyper-individualistic ambition it demands strips away their humanity and their connection to each other. They become successful, but they become entirely isolated. Exactly. They survived the city, but they lost their souls in the process. Now, Utpal's second story in the anthology deals with the very different kind of urban survival. This story is titled Gory Par-Shar-Leb-Hum Degree, which I absolutely love. It roughly translates to, I'll take my degree riding on a horse. It's a fantastic title, full of bravado. And this story explores a struggle that millions of migrant students face, the crushing weight of parental expectations, and the intense linguistic gatekeeping of the capital city. A very real, very common story. The story centers on a character named Alok Babu. He's originally from Rhaepor. And his trajectory is a wild ride of failures and pivots. Because of his parents. Yeah, his parents, like so many middle class parents in the region, view education purely as a financial investment. They pressure him relentlessly to pass the exams to become a chartered accountant, a CA. It is seen as a safe, prestigious, money-making path. But Alok isn't a numbers guy. He fails the exams. So his parents pivot and force him to study law. also considered a safe bet. But he is miserable. To escape the suffocating pressure of his reality, he obsessively consumes cinema, and there's this one incredibly vivid detail in the text that tells you everything you need to know about Alloc. Oh, the Rotoract Club speech. Yes. Before he moves away, he delivers this captivating all-night speech at a local Rotoract Club meeting. He holds the entire room spellbound as he tells a story from his childhood. It's a great scene. He talks about having an incredibly strict father how he once meticulously stole exactly three and a half rupees from his grandfather's wallet just so he could sneak out and buy a ticket to watch a Bollywood movie called Jung Buzz starring Govinda. That details stealing exactly three and a half rupees for a movie ticket is brilliant writing. It perfectly highlights the innocence of his small town past against the brutal pressure cooker environment he's about to enter in Delhi. Because Delhi is a completely different world. Right. And it also establishes who Alok really is. He isn't a corporate drone. He's a natural storyteller. He's a creative soul being forced into rigid corporate boxes by his parents' anxieties. And then the pressure cooker really amps up. He finally escapes the law degree and convinces his family to let him move to Delhi to study journalism. Specifically to Beresarai. Yes, he moves to a neighborhood called Burah Sarai. For our listeners who don't know Delhi, Buresh Sarai is legendary. It is basically a dense chaotic hub packed with thousands of migrant students living in knee-crampt rooms. All cramming for competitive exams, all desperate to secure a future. Exactly. So Alok applies to study journalism at the prestigious Hurethia Vidyabhafan. But here's where he hits a massive wall. Alok is terrified of the English language. This is a profound and widespread phenomenon. He's a fluent Hindi and Mathili speaker, but in the corridors of power in Delhi, English is the ultimate gatekeeper. He views the polished English-speaking Delhi crowd with a mix of absolute awe and sheer terror. Yeah. Have you ever tried to play a game where everyone else seems to know the rules and you realize the referee keeps changing the rules just to make sure you lose? That's exactly how it feels. That's what Alluk feels like. It's a massive linguistic imposter syndrome. He assumes that because he doesn't speak grammatically perfect English, he fundamentally cannot compete in the capital. It's a huge barrier. He goes to take the journalism entrance exam, which is conducted in English. He walks out of the exam hall completely defeated, absolutely convinced he has failed. He tells his friend, I just don't know the English these deli people speak. And his friend's response is one of the most honest assessments of urban posturing you you will ever hear. Yes. His friend laughs and tells him a secret. He says, listen, most of the people in Delhi actually speak terrible, grammatically incorrect English, but they speak it with so much confidence and arrogance that it intimidates people like us from the villages. It's all a bluff. It's all a bluff. And the proof comes when the results are posted. A look almost doesn't even go to check the board because he's so embarrassed. But shockingly, he hasn't just passed the exam. He has crushed it. He does incredibly well. He ranks fifth overall in the entire institution. Which proves that his fundamental communication skills, his ability to actually observe the world and telecompelling story, just like he did at the Rotorack Club with the three and a half rupees, those skills transcend his grammatical insecurities. The story ends by beautifully capturing the gritty, exhausted reality of his survival in Delhi. He lives on late night study sessions, drinking endless little cups of cheap tea, and surviving on greasy bread pakoras from a local street vendor named Sharmaji. It's the quintessential migrant student hustle. But I want to ask you about the broader implications of Alec's struggle. English was weaponized against him to make him feel inferior. Does the language of our education dictate the limits of our ambition? Because Alec almost gave up entirely. He was very close to quitting. Is his ultimate success proof that raw talent and street smarts can punch through that linguistic barrier or is he just a lucky exception? That is the core tension of the post-colonial migrant experience. The language of the metropolis, in this case English acts as a deliberate gatekeeper. Right? It is designed to keep people like Alec out to preserve the elite status of those who grew up in English medium schools. Alec's fear is entirely justified by the systemic biases he faces. It's a rigged game. However, his story argues that while language dictates the terms of this travel, it It doesn't have to dictate the limit of the ambition. He weaponizes his street smarts and his innate storytelling ability to bypass the gatekeepers. He beats them at their own game? He does. But we must acknowledge the immense psychological toll this takes. The Linguistic Imposter Syndrome forces students from regional backgrounds to expend massive amounts of emotional energy just to prove they belong in the room. Energy that privileged students can spend entirely on their studies. Exactly. They basically have to run twice as fast, just to stay at the starting line. We've seen the raw, working-class realities of the modern writers. We've explored the geographical trauma of the cozy floods. We've followed the youth like Alec Babu battling the linguistic gatekeepers of Delhi. It's a lot of struggle. But to really understand how Mathili literature got to a point where young people could write these modern stories, we need to look back. We need to look at the foundations, the giants whose shoulders Safi and Utpal are standing on. Yes. provides a crucial historical anchor. It includes an incredibly detailed interview with one of the absolute legends of Mathili literature, main in Mishra. This interview was conducted by Vanit Udpal back in 2004 on the occasion of Mishra winning the prestigious Proboed Saman Award. And you know as you read through Mishra's life story it reads like a living history book of the Mathili language itself throughout the 20th century. His biography perfectly encapsulates all the major themes we've been discussing today. He was born in the early 1930s. And what is the defining event of his childhood? Let me guess, the river. In 1940, in 1941, his family is completely displaced by the cozy flood. The unforgiving river strikes again. The physical geography forces his family out of their home, displacing them to a place called Govindpur. And around this same time, he suffers a profound personal tragedy. He loses his mother. And out of that trauma and displacement, he turns to writing to process his grief. His very first works, written around 1945, were devotional songs. Right, very traditional. He was writing deeply localized religious music, but then his literary evolution takes a really fascinating turn. He doesn't stay in the realm of devotional music. In 1951, he writes a piece called Bongak Lota, and it isn't a tragedy, it's a famous comedy. And comedy, as we discussed with the Pat Nyabak anecdote earlier, is often a crucial step in a culture's literary maturation. Oh, so? It allows the society to critique its own flaws and absurdities safely. You do it through the lens of humor without inviting direct political retaliation. But Mishra doesn't stop at comedy either. As he matures and as India moves through the 50s and 60s, his writing shifts again. He gets much more complex. He moves into deep, serious, psychological, and highly experimental poetry and prose. The interview mentions monumental works like Agmo Amapithar, which translates to fire, wax, and stone, and another work called Deschanteur. Yeah, these are heavy pieces. He starts writing complex, challenging narratives about existential dread, social struggle, and human psychology. What is truly fascinating here is how Mishra's personal literary evolution mirrors the evolution of the Methili language's status on the national stage. Oh, that's an interesting parallel. It moves from the localized religious sphere devotional songs sung in village courtyards to light entertainment and comedy, and finally into a robust, muscular, modern literary form capable of grappling with the most complex psychological themes of the 20th century. I look at Maine and Mishra's career trajectory, you know, moving from simple devotional songs to heavy experimental psychological poetry, and I have to ask, is that progression a requirement? What do you mean? Like, does a regional language have to prove it can do the heavy, depressing, psychological lifting in order to be taken seriously by the national establishment. Like the Beatles going from pop to state pepper. Can't a language just be respected for its comedy and its folk songs? It's a great question. And the unfortunate reality of literary institutions is that, yes, they demand a certain type of gravitas before they confer recognition. They want the serious stuff. Right. A language must demonstrate that it is an intellectual vehicle capable of holding the full spectrum of the human experience. Folk songs and comedy are often dismissed by national academies as provincial or quaint. That's a shame, but I get it. To be recognized alongside towering languages like Hindi or Bengali, Mathili had to prove it could articulate tragedy, complexity, and modern alienation. Meina and Mishra, through sheer force of intellect, proved that Mathili could do exactly that. And he didn't just prove it on the page, he fought for it in the halls of power. Mishra didn't just write in isolation, he actively advocated for his language. He was a major political force. He associated with titans of Indian literature, massive figures like Phanashwaranath Reynu and Ramdari Singh Dinkar, and he was instrumental in a monumental political victory, getting Mitheli officially recognized by the Sahitya Academy. Which is huge for our global listeners. The Sahitya Academy is India's national academy of letters. It is the highest literary authority in the country. Getting a language recognized by them isn't just a symbolic trophy. It unlocks funding. It allows the language to be taught in universities. It preserves it for the future. The interview notes that this recognition was heavily influenced by a direct meeting Mishra and his contemporaries had with Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. That's right. He took the fight from the flooded villages of Bihar directly to the Prime Minister of India. And his ultimate belief stated at the end of the interview is simple but incredibly profound. He says the Bhati will always remain. Vijapati being of course the iconic 14th century mythilly poet whose work forms the bedrock of their culture. Right. Mishra believed that if they fought for the language its roots were deep enough to survive any modern storm. Mishra represents a generation that carried the weight of a culture on their backs. They fought to legitimize the language institutionally. By securing that recognition from the Sathya Academy, they They built the foundation that allows the current generation writers like Safi and Udpul to write their raw modern stories about bicycle shops and deli cyber cafes without constantly having to justify the very existence of the language itself. But as we move into the final segment of our deep dive, we see that the battle for the Mithili language is far from over. It hasn't ended, it has just shifted arenas. Exactly. We're moving from the preservation of language in the pages of literature to the weaponization of language on the international political stage. This brings us to the Kathmandu controversy. This is arguably the most explosive and revealing piece of source material in the entire anthology. It shows us what happens when language, identity and state power collide in real time. It really does. This section is a journalistic report written by Sujit Kumarja. It details a highly publicized incident involving the president of Nepal at the time, Dr. Ram Buranyadav. And here is the crucial context for that. Yeah, please. Dr. Yadav is a native Methil. He was born into the culture. Methili is his mother tongue. Okay, so he's one of them. Yes, and he is invited to attend the International Methili Conference, which is being held in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal. The entire stage is set specifically to celebrate and promote the Methili language. Right, the scenario we talked about in the intro. So Dr. Yadav walks up to the podium, he looks out at an audience of his own people, And he chooses to deliver his entire speech in Nepali. The official state language. Yes. And the reaction from the Mathill community was immediate, visceral, and furious. Furious feels like an understatement. The report cites over 40 angry Facebook posts from community members that flooded the internet instantly. Critics were absolutely livid. They felt he hadn't just made a scheduling error. They felt he had actively abandoned his roots for political safety. And it wasn't just the words he spoke either. No. he was wearing. The critics pointed out that upon becoming president, Dr. Yadav swapped his traditional Mayfield attire, the Doti Krutah, which is historically associated with the Mayfield people of the Parai Plains, for the official Nepali national dress, the Dar-a-sur-Wol. Which is historically associated with the hill elites of Nepal. Right. Even at a conference dedicated to his own culture, they noted bitterly he wouldn't take off the Nepali hat. The visual symbolism of the clothing change deeply compounded the linguistic choice. In the volatile ethnic politics of Nepal, where the Ptareit plains communities have historically felt marginalized by the hill-centric government in Kathmandu, the duty kuta versus the door suruwal isn't just about fashion. It's a political statement. It's about allegiance. To the audience, his choice of dress and language was perceived as a total shedding of his ethnic identity in favor of a homogenized, state-approved national identity. The article makes this really sharp biting contrast to drive the point home. It points out that when US President Barack Obama visited India, he made a deliberate effort to speak a few words of Hindi to win the hearts of the people. Right. Diplomacy 101. The article asks, if an American president can speak Hindi to show respect, why couldn't a native Mathille president bring himself to speak Mathilly at a Mathille conference? It's a potent question. But I have to stop here and ask you a skeptical question, because looking at this from the outside, I don't entirely get the anger. Okay, lay it on me. If you were the president of an entire nation, doesn't your job description fundamentally change? Dr. Yadav represents all of Nepal, a country with dozens of different ethnic groups and languages. If he goes to a conference and speaks his specific regional dialect, doesn't that alienate the rest of the country? I see where you're going. Isn't speaking Nepali just standard protocol for the head of state? Why is following basic state protocol seen as a profound betrayal? That is exactly the defense that his political allies would use, and it is a completely valid perspective from the viewpoint of statecraft. As president, he is the symbol of national unity. Speaking the official language, wearing the official dress, is a calculated move to project cohesion and demonstrate that he is not playing favorites with his own ethnic group. Right, that makes sense. We have to look at this impartially and understand the mechanics of minority erasure. For a dominant group, standard protocol feels like unity. For a marginalized group, standard protocol often feels like forced assimilation. Okay, unpack that for me. How does protocol become assimilation? Think about the venue. It wasn't a general address to the nation. It was the International Methylhe Conference. The context matters. To bring in the final piece of source material from our anthology, which adds immense academic weight to their anger. The text cites article two of a UNESCO convention. What does the convention say? This convention defines intangible cultural heritage as the practices, expressions, knowledge and skills transmitted across generations that provide a community with a sense of identity and continuity. Language is the ultimate primary vehicle for intangible cultural heritage. If a language is not spoken in the public sphere, if it is relegated only to the private home, it begins to die. It loses its power. So when the president, the most powerful Mayfield person in the country, chose not to speak the language at a conference specifically dedicated to its survival, the audience felt he was validating the state's historical marginalization of their culture. So to them, it wasn't just protocol. No. To them, he was actively participating in the erasure of their heritage on the very stagement to celebrate it. It's like the concept of the costume of the soul. He's standing up there wearing the physical national costume of the state, the Dorasua Wall. But the audience feels that by refusing to speak the language, he has entirely stripped off the linguistic costume of his soul. That's a beautiful way to put it. So looking at this incredibly tense situation, at what point does necessary political assimilation cross the line and become cultural erasure? Is it actually possible to reach the highest levels of national or international power without leaving your mother tongue, your specific identity at the door. That is the ultimate crucible of modern minority politics all over the world, not just in Nepal. There is no easy mathematical answer. Yeah. The line between assimilation and erasure is entirely subjective, and it depends entirely on where you are standing. For the state, assimilation is a necessary tool for survival and cohesion. A fractured state is a weak state. True. But for the minority community, assimilation is a slow death. It is the gradual fading of their unique voice into the background noise of the majority. The intense fiery reaction to the president's speech in Kathmandu shows that for the Mothill community their language is not just a tool for asking for directions or buying groceries. It's much deeper than that. It is the very bedrock of their political, historical, and cultural existence. To lose the language in the public sphere is to lose their visibility as a people. Which brings us full circle. We have been on an immense journey today through the pages of Vedea Sadeja 35. We truly have. We have seen the full, vibrant, and sometimes painful spectrum of a culture in perpetual motion. We started by looking at the raw, unvarnished truth of modern Maitrela identity. We saw young writers like Safi completely rejecting the sanitized elite histories of the past, choosing instead to write honestly about the struggles of washing clothes and running bicycle shops, democratizing the literature in the process. necessary reckoning. Then we unpacked the terrifying geographical reality of the Coasey River and the profound necessary fatalism that allows a community to survive mass drownings and find the strength to rebuild their lives in the mud. A literal survival mechanism. We followed the youth exodus watching students like Alak Babu flee to the cramped rooms of Delhi battling the linguistic imposter syndrome of the English language and sacrificing their traditional notions of romance for the cold demands of urban ambition. The modern struggle. We also looked backward, honoring the immense foundational work of giants like Mayn and Mishra who lived through those devastating floods, evolved the language from village comedy to serious experimental poetry, and fought the political battles necessary to get mythally recognized by the National Academy. Giving the next generation a platform. And finally, we saw how all of that history, all of that trauma, and all of that passion boils over onto the modern political stage in Kathmandu. We saw how the simple choice between speaking Nepali or speaking Mithili at a podium becomes a fiery existential debate about the survival of the culture itself. It is a complex, deeply beautiful and incredibly resilient cultural landscape. They are the people who refuse to be quietly washed away by the river or by the state. They truly are. And I want to leave you the listener with one final provocative thought to mull over. It connects back to that UNESCO definition of intangible heritage we just talked about. The document explicitly states that heritage isn't a static museum piece. It is something that is constantly recreated by communities in response to their environment and their history. It has to adapt. Exactly. Perhaps the survival of the Methili identity or any regional identity facing the crush of globalization isn't about freezing it in the past. It's not just about staying in the village, wearing the traditional clothes, and speaking the absolute, purest, oldest form of the language. Because that's not living. Right. If a culture can adapt to the chaotic cyber cafes and the brutal competitive exams of Delhi, if it can produce raw, working-class autobiographies that challenge the patriarchy, and if it has the political energy to force fiery debates on the international stages of Kathmandu, maybe the true test of a language isn't its historical purity. Maybe the true test is its elasticity. Can it stretch without breaking? Can a culture bend to the neon lights, the concrete and the English demands of the modern world without breaking its deep ancient ties to the soil? As you imagine standing on that bridge between the ancient village and the globalized city, maybe the answer isn't that you have to choose just one side. Maybe the language itself constantly evolving, constantly fighting is the bridge. That's a powerful thought. Thank you for joining us on this deep dive into the fascinating turbulent world of the Mephili cultural landscape. Keep questioning the world around you, keep learning, and we'll catch you next time.

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