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SADEHA 12.mp4

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Part 1 · VIDEHA MITHILA MAITHILI DISCUSSION CRITICISM SERIES PART 1

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1. 0:00–0:02विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
2. 0:02–0:04विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
3. 0:04–0:06विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
4. 0:06–0:08विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
5. 0:08–0:10विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
6. 0:10–0:12विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
7. 0:12–0:14विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
8. 0:14–0:16विचार-विमर्चक रेक।
9. 0:16–0:20over a misplaced comma or a mixed metaphor.
10. 0:20–0:23But you definitely don't imagine people invoking
11. 0:23–0:25international whistleblowing scandals,
12. 0:25–0:27like literally citing WikiLeaks.
13. 0:27–0:28No, definitely not.
14. 0:28–0:30Or weaponizing the Right to Information Act,
15. 0:30–0:33and hurling these deeply personal insults
16. 0:33–0:36about colleagues being quote, down in the gutter.
17. 0:36–0:37Yeah, it gets intense.
18. 0:37–0:38It really does.
19. 0:38–0:41But the stack of sources we have for you today,
20. 0:41–0:42and yes, I'm talking to you,
21. 0:42–0:43our listener city writer with us,
22. 0:43–0:45it proves that the reality of this world
23. 0:45–0:47is anything but quiet.
24. 0:47–0:49Oh, it is absolutely explosive.
25. 0:49–0:49It is.
26. 0:49–0:52And so I have a question for you before we even start.
27. 0:52–0:54Have you ever really considered how much drama
28. 0:54–0:57and intense passion and, well, strict,
29. 0:57–0:59almost mathematical precision
30. 0:59–1:01actually goes into keeping a language alive?
31. 1:01–1:04It's completely counterintuitive, honestly.
32. 1:04–1:06I mean, we all kind of assume that literature,
33. 1:06–1:08especially regional literature,
34. 1:08–1:11exists in this serene academic bubble.
35. 1:11–1:12Right, protected from the real world.
36. 1:12–1:14Exactly.
37. 1:14–1:21But when you are dealing with a language that is actively fighting for its space, its resources,
38. 1:21–1:26and you know, its very identity in the modern world, that bubble just completely bursts.
39. 1:26–1:27Yeah.
40. 1:27–1:30The stakes become incredibly surprisingly high.
41. 1:30–1:35Well, okay, let's unpack this because that is our exact mission for today's deep dive.
42. 1:35–1:35Let's do it.
43. 1:35–1:40We are looking at a really fascinating primary source today.
44. 1:40–1:44It's a collection of excerpts from an e-journal called Videa Sadeja 12.
45. 1:44–1:46Polish back in 2012, right?
46. 1:46–1:472012, yep.
47. 1:47–1:50It's a Mathili publication and it's totally official,
48. 1:50–1:56complete with an ISSN number 2229-547X for the record.
49. 1:56–1:57Very official.
50. 1:57–2:02And we are going to use these pages to unpack the vibrant and honestly sometimes incredibly
51. 2:02–2:06contentious but deeply rich world of modern Mephili literature.
52. 2:06–2:07It's a huge topic.
53. 2:07–2:08It is.
54. 2:08–2:13We're going to navigate the fierce political infighting over literary awards.
55. 2:13–2:19We'll look at the profound psychological struggle between modern city life and traditional village
56. 2:19–2:23values. Which is a huge theme in this journal. Massive. And then we'll look at the push to
57. 2:23–2:29elevate marginalized voices. And finally, we are going to end on the incredibly strict rules
58. 2:29–2:34of writing a Mathili Ghazal. Oh, the Ghazal rules. I can't wait for that part. It's like
59. 2:34–2:40like math. But before we get there, set the scene for us. What exactly is the cultural
60. 2:40–2:43landscape we are stepping into here? Like for someone who isn't familiar.
61. 2:43–2:48Right. So to really grasp the intensity of these texts, we first need to understand
62. 2:48–2:53the language itself. Um, Mathili is an ancient Indo-Aryan language.
63. 2:53–2:55Okay. And it's spoken primarily in the Bihar
64. 2:55–3:00and Tarkhan states of India. But significantly, and this is important, it's also spoken
65. 3:00–3:03across the border in the eastern Taraai region of Nepal.
66. 3:03–3:05Oh wow, so it's transnational.
67. 3:05–3:10Exactly. So right out of the gate, you're dealing with a language that spans an international border
68. 3:10–3:14and it carries this massive, massive amount of historical weight.
69. 3:14–3:15Right, because it's not just a dialect, right?
70. 3:15–3:20No, not at all. It has its own script, its own incredibly deep literary traditions
71. 3:21–3:27and a vast population of speakers who are currently like right now navigating this
72. 3:27–3:28extreme transition.
73. 3:28–3:30A transition from what to what, exactly.
74. 3:30–3:34from a largely agrarian, you know, village-based society
75. 3:34–3:39to a highly urbanized, globalized 21st century reality.
76. 3:39–3:43Okay, yeah. And as we see right on the very first pages of this journal,
77. 3:43–3:46that transition is generating a massive amount of heat.
78. 3:46–3:48Oh, absolute fire.
79. 3:48–3:52The first piece we encounter is this editorial written by Gajendra Thakur.
80. 3:52–3:55And I mean, it immediately drops us into the absolute battlefield
81. 3:55–3:57of literary politics and patronage.
82. 3:57–4:00It really does. It reads less like an academic introduction
83. 4:00–4:04and way more like a fiery expose. Yes, but wait, before we really dive into the specifics of this
84. 4:04–4:09editorial, I think we need to make something very clear to everyone list. Oh, absolutely. This is
85. 4:09–4:13crucial. Right. So we are looking at the source material completely impartially. We are simply
86. 4:13–4:18reporting the claims and allegations exactly as the author of this editorial has laid them out.
87. 4:18–4:22Exactly. We are not endorsing either side of these very heated,
88. 4:22–4:27highly politically and socially charged arguments. Not at all. Our goal here is strictly to
89. 4:27–4:31understand the dynamics that are at play within this specific literary
90. 4:31–4:35community purely as they are framed by this text. Perfect, yes. We are looking
91. 4:35–4:39at this text as an artifact. A very spicy artifact. Very. So what this artifact
92. 4:39–4:44alleges is that the Mathili literary community is deeply deeply fractured by
93. 4:44–4:50caste-based gatekeeping. The editorial specifically claims there is this
94. 4:50–4:55clash between Bramanical and Coyasta ideologies and that this clash is
95. 4:55–5:00dictating who gets published, who gets awarded, and ultimately who gets erased from the cultural
96. 5:00–5:05record. Yeah, the author, Gijendra Thakur, he does not mince words at all. He points to very,
97. 5:05–5:09very specific examples to build his case. What kind of examples? Well, for instance, he alleges
98. 5:09–5:15there was a deliberate coordinated conspiracy against this specific author named Suhashtandry
99. 5:15–5:20Yadav, and his book, Bonnet Be Great. Okay, a conspiracy. Why him? The text claims that
100. 5:20–5:26because Yadav absolutely refuses to compromise on his ideology and because he actively fights for
101. 5:26–5:32his community's language, he essentially became a target. Wow. Yeah. And Taku doesn't just vaguely
102. 5:32–5:37gesture at the establishment. He specifically names influential figures like Ramdev Chah and
103. 5:37–5:43Mohan Faradwaj as the architects of this targeting. He's naming names. That is bold for an academic
104. 5:43–5:48journal. It is. And the allegations, they go way beyond just a single book. Right. Because
105. 5:48–5:50because then he talks about a monograph, right?
106. 5:50–5:51Yes.
107. 5:51–5:52So he claims that a monograph,
108. 5:52–5:55which is a very detailed academic study
109. 5:55–5:59on a single subject on a writer named Raj Kamal Chaudhary,
110. 5:59–6:01which importantly was also written
111. 6:01–6:03by Sipash Chanda Yadav.
112. 6:03–6:04So it's the same guy again?
113. 6:04–6:05Exactly.
114. 6:05–6:07He claims this monograph was deliberately blocked
115. 6:07–6:10from publication by the Sahitya Academy.
116. 6:10–6:12Okay, wait, let's pause there for you listening,
117. 6:12–6:13because if you don't know the context,
118. 6:13–6:15that might not sound like a huge deal.
119. 6:15–6:17But the Sahitya Academy is India's
120. 6:17–6:19National Academy of Letters, right?
121. 6:19–6:21It is massive.
122. 6:21–6:24It is an incredibly prestigious government-backed institution.
123. 6:24–6:27So having a book blocked by them isn't just
124. 6:27–6:30like getting a rejection letter from a small indie press.
125. 6:30–6:31No, not at all.
126. 6:31–6:34The author is framing this as a deliberate act
127. 6:34–6:38of institutional silencing by these specific named individuals.
128. 6:38–6:39That is heavy.
129. 6:39–6:42But I guess, and maybe this is a naive question,
130. 6:42–6:44why does it matter that much?
131. 6:44–6:46Like why would a blocked monograph
132. 6:46–6:49weren't such a furious, blistering editorial.
133. 6:49–6:50It's a great question.
134. 6:50–6:52And to understand it, we really have
135. 6:52–6:54to look at the mechanics of how cultural preservation actually
136. 6:54–6:55works.
137. 6:55–6:56OK, walk me through it.
138. 6:56–7:00Why do literary awards and publications
139. 7:00–7:03from institutions like the Sahija Academy matter?
140. 7:03–7:05It isn't just about getting a nice shiny plaque
141. 7:05–7:08for your wall or a bit of prize money.
142. 7:08–7:12These institutions literally dictate the historical canon.
143. 7:12–7:14They decide who gets recorded in the National
144. 7:14–7:20archives, they determine which specific dialect, which vocabulary, and which social perspective
145. 7:20–7:22of the language is deemed the standard.
146. 7:22–7:25Oh, I see. And then that standard is what gets taught in schools.
147. 7:25–7:28Exactly. It's what gets preserved for centuries. It's the official record.
148. 7:28–7:32So it's basically the keys to the cultural kingdom. Like if you aren't in the canon,
149. 7:32–7:34did you even exist?
150. 7:34–7:38Precisely. When a language community feels its resources are scarce.
151. 7:38–7:43Or when it feels the immense pressure of a rapidly globalizing world that clearly
152. 7:43–7:45prioritizes English or Hindi.
153. 7:45–7:47Yeah, that pressure must be intense.
154. 7:47–7:47It is.
155. 7:47–7:49And so the stakes for controlling those
156. 7:49–7:53internal literary resources become completely existential
157. 7:53–7:55because whoever controls the awards,
158. 7:55–7:57they control the entire narrative
159. 7:57–7:59of what My Thilly Literature actually is.
160. 7:59–8:02Man, I really wanna pull on that thread
161. 8:02–8:05because the editorial actually takes this a step further.
162. 8:05–8:06Oh, it goes much further.
163. 8:06–8:10Yeah, it explicitly accuses various cultural institutions
164. 8:10–8:13of quote, black marketing for coordinator posts
165. 8:13–8:15at the Saheeta Academy in Delhi.
166. 8:15–8:16Such a strong phrase.
167. 8:16–8:17Right, black marketing.
168. 8:17–8:20And it lists specific organizations.
169. 8:20–8:23It calls out the Vidyapati Seva Sanstan in Darbhanga,
170. 8:23–8:26the Chetna Samiti in Patna, and several others.
171. 8:26–8:28Bhakar basically claims that many of these
172. 8:28–8:30are just paper organizations.
173. 8:30–8:34Like they are run entirely on cast, regional,
174. 8:34–8:36and hereditary lines, rather than operating
175. 8:36–8:39on any kind of genuine literary merit.
176. 8:39–8:45Yeah, and using the term black marketing in literary context is just incredibly loaded.
177. 8:45–8:46That sounds illegal.
178. 8:46–8:52It implies that influence, prestige and representation are literally commodities.
179. 8:52–8:56Commodities being illicitly traded behind closed doors by power brokers
180. 8:56–8:59rather than being earned through the actual merit of the art.
181. 8:59–9:00That's wild.
182. 9:00–9:04The author is essentially suggesting a complete institutional failure.
183. 9:04–9:09saying the bodies that are meant to champion the language are instead being used as personal fiefdoms.
184. 9:09–9:15It honestly reminds me of like a really fierce local election or even the intense
185. 9:15–9:20clique dynamics of a high school but scaled up to this grand culturally existential level.
186. 9:20–9:24It's a really good analogy actually. The stakes just feel astronomically high precisely
187. 9:24–9:28because the community is so insulated, you know. You are fighting over this very specific,
188. 9:28–9:34very vital piece of cultural real estate. And the editorial goes on to harshly criticize
189. 9:34–9:40recent awards too, down to the granular level. Oh yeah, it attacks a youth award given to a non-Kumarcha.
190. 9:40–9:44It claims the whole selection process for him was highly questionable. And then it just straight up
191. 9:44–9:51calls another author, Pankosh Parashar, a thief. It says he's a thief being protected by his cast
192. 9:51–9:56peers. It's relentless. It really is. And it even goes after a children's literature award.
193. 9:56–10:01The award was given to Merlidharcha for his book Pilpila Gash. Right. And the editorial
194. 10:01–10:07claims it isn't even proper children's literature and then this is the craziest part to me. It mocks
195. 10:07–10:12him for proudly wearing the traditional garland and headdress, the pog, while accepting the award.
196. 10:12–10:16I mean the sheer granular level of these grievances is wild. Yeah. To go down to
197. 10:17–10:22criticizing the traditional headwear someone chose to wear at an award ceremony. It just
198. 10:22–10:28shows how deeply personal this all is. It's so personal. But the raw emotion in the text,
199. 10:28–10:32It truly culminates in a piece of actual evidence the editor includes.
200. 10:32–10:33Oh, the email.
201. 10:33–10:36The email is a poorly written English email,
202. 10:36–10:41presented right there as a direct artifact of a real world dispute.
203. 10:41–10:45Okay, this email is wild. I actually have a bit of this for you listening,
204. 10:45–10:48because it perfectly captures the exact friction we are talking about.
205. 10:48–10:49Please do.
206. 10:49–10:52Okay, so the email is complaining about a
207. 10:52–10:58write to information or RTI report regarding some translation assignments.
208. 10:58–11:00Right, which is a legal mechanism in India.
209. 11:00–11:01Exactly.
210. 11:01–11:07And it accuses the journal's team of propagating, quote, some sort of WikiLeaks.
211. 11:07–11:08Unbelievable.
212. 11:08–11:09And then it just completely devolves.
213. 11:09–11:13It says, though during the debate I found your esteemed literary colleague Priyanka
214. 11:13–11:18Chah down to the gutter, she had neither the manner nor mind to enter into a debate
215. 11:18–11:19of literary kind.
216. 11:19–11:24It is such a remarkable jarring artifact to just find randomly in the pages of an academic
217. 11:24–11:26literary journal.
218. 11:26–11:28It really strips away the polite veneer, doesn't it?
219. 11:28–11:29Entirely.
220. 11:29–11:32I mean, think about the elements that are colliding in that single email.
221. 11:32–11:37You have individuals using state legal mechanisms, the Right to Information Act, to audit translation
222. 11:37–11:38assignments.
223. 11:38–11:44You have them invoking global geopolitical controversies, like WikiLeaks, to describe
224. 11:44–11:46local literary gossip.
225. 11:46–11:47It's so dramatic.
226. 11:47–11:51And then they resort to these deeply personal, highly gendered insults like Town to the
227. 11:51–11:52Gutter.
228. 11:52–11:55It just proves that the tension isn't theoretical at all.
229. 11:55–11:59It isn't just polite disagreement over syntax in a classroom.
230. 11:59–12:01It is playing out viciously in their actual inboxes.
231. 12:01–12:02Absolutely.
232. 12:02–12:05But I have to pose a question to you based on all this mudslinging.
233. 12:05–12:11Because looking at this level of intense, bitter in fighting, is this a sign of a dying
234. 12:11–12:12language?
235. 12:12–12:16Like is this just people fighting over the last few scraps of funding and recognition
236. 12:16–12:21in a shrinking ecosystem, or is it actually the exact opposite?
237. 12:21–12:22Ringing.
238. 12:22–12:26I mean, is this a sign of a deeply passionate community, a community that cares so intensely
239. 12:26–12:31about its cultural output that they're willing to literally go to war over a translation
240. 12:31–12:32assignment?
241. 12:32–12:36You know, that is perhaps the most profound question raised by this first text.
242. 12:36–12:40It hits on the central paradox of any culture that is under pressure.
243. 12:40–12:45On one hand, factionalism is undeniably destructive, right?
244. 12:45–12:47It drains limited resources.
245. 12:47–12:48It exhausts the community.
246. 12:48–12:50Yeah, and I imagine it alienates people.
247. 12:50–12:51Oh, completely.
248. 12:51–12:55It alienates young new writers who just want to share their work and don't want to navigate
249. 12:55–12:57a political minefield just to publish a single poem.
250. 12:57–12:58Totally.
251. 12:58–13:02But on the other hand, apathy is the true death of a language.
252. 13:02–13:04Oh, that's a great point.
253. 13:04–13:08The very fact that someone cares enough to go through the legal trouble of filing
254. 13:08–13:14an RTI request just to find out who received a translation assignment, that proves
255. 13:14–13:15that the assignment still matters deeply.
256. 13:15–13:17If it care?
257. 13:17–13:18Yes.
258. 13:18–13:20The literature is alive enough to fight over.
259. 13:20–13:22I mean, if the language were truly dead,
260. 13:22–13:24no one would bother arguing about who gets to wear the pie
261. 13:24–13:25at the awards ceremony.
262. 13:25–13:27They just wouldn't care.
263. 13:27–13:29That is a really fascinating way to look at it.
264. 13:29–13:30The anger is a pulse.
265. 13:30–13:32It means the patient is alive.
266. 13:32–13:33Exactly.
267. 13:33–13:35A very high blood pressure pulse, maybe.
268. 13:35–13:37But a pulse nonetheless.
269. 13:37–13:37Yes.
270. 13:37–13:40And what's really incredible is that despite all this intense
271. 13:40–13:42gatekeeping we just talked about,
272. 13:42–13:47Despite the bitter controversies in the editorial rooms of Delhi and Darbhanga,
273. 13:47–13:52the actual work of creating and celebrating art is completely unstopped.
274. 13:52–13:53It is thriving.
275. 13:53–13:56In fact, it is crossing international borders.
276. 13:56–13:59It is. The source material pivots quite dramatically right after this.
277. 14:00–14:04It goes from this very internal localized conflict to an international celebration.
278. 14:04–14:05Right.
279. 14:05–14:08The journal features a really detailed report from Rajbiraj,
280. 14:08–14:12which is a city in Nepal regarding the Mathili Pratipa Puraskar.
281. 14:12–14:13Which is a major talent award, right?
282. 14:13–14:15It's a very significant award.
283. 14:15–14:19And what I love about this report is how diverse the list of winners is.
284. 14:19–14:20They awarded seven individuals.
285. 14:20–14:23They recognized a poet, Sagar Vir Kadari,
286. 14:23–14:27but they also recognized a radio actor, Jabak Das.
287. 14:27–14:32And they recognized musicians too, like Devendra Sahasoni and Preeti Adhikari.
288. 14:32–14:36I feel like it really highlights this literature isn't just words printed on a page.
289. 14:36–14:41You know, it is a living, breathing, auditory and performative culture.
290. 14:41–14:46I agree completely and the cross-border nature of this celebration is just so vital to understand.
291. 14:46–14:51Because it's not just happening in India. Right. Following the report on the Rajbheeraj Awards,
292. 14:51–14:57the text details a massive event at Sheetal Nawaz. What's Sheetal Nawaz for context?
293. 14:57–15:01Sheetal Nawaz is the official residence of the President of Nepal. Oh, wow. So this is a huge
294. 15:01–15:07deal. A very huge deal. The Nepalese president at the time, Ram Bir and Yadav, officially launched
295. 15:07–15:11seven books by a single journalist and author named Rajendra Nepali.
296. 15:11–15:14Wait, seven books dropped at once by one guy?
297. 15:14–15:15Seven books, yes.
298. 15:15–15:19That is a staggering amount of creative output. Who has the time?
299. 15:19–15:20It really is incredible.
300. 15:20–15:23And the titles of these books are incredibly telling too.
301. 15:23–15:25We have one called L'Uktantra Kallalima,
302. 15:25–15:27which points to the dawn or the redness of democracy.
303. 15:28–15:32We have Vichar Kranti, which hints at a revolution of thought.
304. 15:32–15:36There is Nav Nepal, or New Nepal, and a book called Sohagin.
305. 15:36–15:39They all sound so politically and socially charged.
306. 15:39–15:44They absolutely are. And what really stands out in this report is that the President of Nepal
307. 15:44–15:47specifically praised Rajendra Nepali for his dual role.
308. 15:47–15:48His dual role?
309. 15:48–15:53Yeah. He lauded him as both a journalist and a literary figure. He noted his crucial work
310. 15:53–15:58in keeping the history of the Mithila region and specifically its martyrs alive.
311. 15:59–16:03This perfectly illustrates how literature in this specific regional context
312. 16:03–16:08serves as a crucial bridge. Yeah, because you have two sovereign nations, India and Nepal.
313. 16:08–16:12Right, two nations that share this deep linguistic and cultural heritage.
314. 16:12–16:17And the literature acts as this unifying thread that just completely transcends the political
315. 16:17–16:21border. It allows a shared history to survive regardless of lines on a map.
316. 16:21–16:25It's so powerful. And speaking of cementing history, the journal also covers a book
317. 16:25–16:30launch back in India in Sahar Sath. Yep. This was for Dr. Devanarayan Sath's critical
318. 16:30–16:35study of an author known simply as Manipodma. And this study was launched by a Sahitya
319. 16:35–16:39Academy winner, Professor Mayanand Mishra. So again, some heavy hitters involved here.
320. 16:39–16:44Definitely. From what the sources tell us, this guy Manipodma was an absolute pioneer.
321. 16:44–16:49Manipodma is a monumental figure in this landscape. His inclusion in this journal
322. 16:49–16:52is deeply significant. Why is that? What did he do?
323. 16:53–16:56Well, the text notes he was the first Mephili detective novelist.
324. 16:56–17:00Which is a fun fact, a fascinating genre milestone in itself.
325. 17:00–17:05It is. But his true lasting significance lies in his relationship to folklore.
326. 17:06–17:12Manipadma was actually the first author to give formal literary shape to regional folk deities.
327. 17:12–17:17Oh right. The text mentions names like Lurik, Sages, and Shuharmul.
328. 17:17–17:22Yes, exactly. And to really understand why this was such a massive cultural shift,
329. 17:22–17:26we have to look at the historical divide between oral and written traditions.
330. 17:26–17:27Okay, lay it out for me.
331. 17:27–17:30In many cultures, really, across the globe, oral traditions.
332. 17:30–17:31Yeah.
333. 17:31–17:35The stories passed down by the common people, the village myths, the songs of the laborers.
334. 17:35–17:37Right, the stuff that isn't written down in fancy books.
335. 17:37–17:38Exactly.
336. 17:38–17:42Those oral traditions are often marginalized by the established written canon.
337. 17:42–17:46The written canon is usually controlled by the elite, the educated, the upper castes.
338. 17:46–17:48Okay, yeah, that makes sense.
339. 17:48–17:55So, by taking these oral deities, loric, solhez, chouharmal, and writing them into formal novels,
340. 17:55–17:59Manipodma essentially legitimized oral history.
341. 17:59–18:00Wow.
342. 18:00–18:03He took the stories of the village, of the common folk,
343. 18:03–18:05and forced the literary establishment
344. 18:05–18:07to recognize them as high art.
345. 18:07–18:09He essentially smuggled the village into the library.
346. 18:09–18:12That's a perfect way to phrase it, yes.
347. 18:12–18:15He completely democratized the literature.
348. 18:15–18:18And now, by having Dr. Saw write a critical study
349. 18:18–18:21of Manipodma, that legacy is cemented.
350. 18:21–18:23Because critical studies are kind of like the machinery
351. 18:23–18:24of preservation.
352. 18:24–18:24Precisely.
353. 18:24–18:27An author might be very popular in their own time,
354. 18:27–18:29but critical studies are what ensure that author
355. 18:29–18:32is actually taught in universities 50 years later.
356. 18:32–18:34They validate the work academically.
357. 18:34–18:36It really just shows how incredibly diverse
358. 18:36–18:37this whole ecosystem is.
359. 18:37–18:40I mean, we go from bitter, mud slinging arguments
360. 18:40–18:42over who gets a modern fellowship
361. 18:42–18:44to a presidential palace launching seven blocks
362. 18:44–18:47on democracy, to celebrating the guy
363. 18:47–18:49who wrote the first Mathili detective novel
364. 18:49–18:50and legitimized folk gods.
365. 18:50–18:52This is a vibrant, chaotic mix.
366. 18:52–18:53It really is.
367. 18:53–18:55But here's where my mind goes.
368. 18:55–18:58How does all of this vast history,
369. 18:58–18:59all these big political themes,
370. 18:59–19:02actually filter down into the daily lives
371. 19:02–19:03of the people speaking the language today?
372. 19:03–19:05That is the big question.
373. 19:05–19:05Right.
374. 19:05–19:08And the journal tackles this head on
375. 19:08–19:09with a really comprehensive review
376. 19:09–19:11by Dr. Rajendra Vimal.
377. 19:11–19:14He reviews a short story collection called Jindagi.
378. 19:14–19:18Ah, yes, Jindagi, written by Sujit Kumarjha.
379. 19:18–19:21This review is honestly a phenomenal window
380. 19:21–19:24into the current psychological state of the Mathili Middle Class.
381. 19:24–19:26Okay, tell me more. What's his style like?
382. 19:26–19:34Well, Dr. Vimal highly praises Jaws style, particularly his conciseness and his incredible psychological depth.
383. 19:34–19:38He specifically compares Jaws narrative structure to the American writer, O. Henry.
384. 19:38–19:41Oh, I love a good O. Henry comparison.
385. 19:41–19:41Right.
386. 19:41–19:44There is literally nothing better than getting to the last paragraph of a story
387. 19:44–19:47and having the rug completely pulled out from under you,
388. 19:47–19:50forcing you to reevaluate every single thing you just read.
389. 19:50–19:51Exactly.
390. 19:51–19:57And Dr. Vimal notes how Jalal uses those sharp, unexpected twist endings to suddenly reveal
391. 19:57–20:02a really deep, often very uncomfortable psychological truth about his characters.
392. 20:02–20:07And the stories summarized in this review, they all seem to be dealing with this intense
393. 20:07–20:08friction of modernity.
394. 20:08–20:11They capture the urban transition perfectly.
395. 20:11–20:12They really do.
396. 20:12–20:15Let's actually break some of these plots down for you listening because they are incredibly
397. 20:15–20:16rich.
398. 20:16–20:18Let's start with the story called Fafal Fulac Rahal.
399. 20:18–20:25Right, so this story is a brilliant, brilliant examination of class, expectation and agency.
400. 20:25–20:30The protagonist is a young woman named Pinky. Okay. She is highly educated. She comes from a
401. 20:30–20:35good respectable family. And she enters into an arranged marriage entirely believing that her new
402. 20:35–20:41husband is an assistant station master at the railway, which is a very respectable solid job.
403. 20:41–20:46Very solid. But the twist, the inciting incident of the entire story is her sudden
404. 20:46–20:49discovery that she has been deceived. Oh no. Her husband is not the assistant
405. 20:49–20:54station master, he's actually just a lowly pointsman. Wait, what does a pointsman do?
406. 20:54–21:00He is the manual laborer who physically pulls the heavy levers for the train tracks out in the
407. 21:00–21:06yard. Oh wow, so that is a massive betrayal of trust. Massive. And I feel like in traditional
408. 21:06–21:12literature or honestly, even in a modern soap opera, this is the exact moment where the
409. 21:12–21:16the heroine throws herself on the bed and weeps, right?
410. 21:16–21:19She realizes she's been deceived by her family,
411. 21:19–21:23by his family, she is trapped in a much lower social station
412. 21:23–21:24than she was promised.
413. 21:24–21:27She becomes the ultimate wronged woman trope.
414. 21:27–21:30That is exactly the expectation the narrative sets up.
415. 21:30–21:32It primes you for a tragedy,
416. 21:32–21:34but Pinky completely subverts it.
417. 21:34–21:35How so?
418. 21:35–21:37Instead of collapsing into passive despair
419. 21:37–21:39or fleeing back to her parents in shame,
420. 21:39–21:41she actively takes charge of the situation.
421. 21:41–21:42I love that.
422. 21:42–21:48The text notes that she remembers her wedding vows, which interestingly grounds her in tradition,
423. 21:48–21:52but she uses that tradition as a foundation for radical modern action.
424. 21:52–21:53Which she do.
425. 21:53–21:55She decides to forge her own destiny.
426. 21:55–21:59She basically sits her husband down, forces him to study, educates him herself, pushes
427. 21:59–22:00him through the ranks.
428. 22:00–22:01No.
429. 22:01–22:02Yeah.
430. 22:02–22:05And by the end of the story, she has actually helped him become a real assistant station
431. 22:05–22:06master.
432. 22:06–22:07That is incredible.
433. 22:07–22:09She engineers her own redemption.
434. 22:09–22:10Exactly.
435. 22:10–22:11She doesn't wait for a savior.
436. 22:11–22:12She doesn't wallow in pity.
437. 22:12–22:15She just becomes the architect of her own reality.
438. 22:15–22:19It is profound subversion of the standard patriarchal narrative.
439. 22:19–22:24It shows a modern, Mayfield woman who absolutely refuses
440. 22:24–22:26to be a victim of fate or social deception.
441. 22:26–22:31She utilizes modern education to forcefully rewrite
442. 22:31–22:34her socio-economic reality, elevating both herself
443. 22:34–22:35and her husband.
444. 22:35–22:38It's a very empowering view of modernity.
445. 22:38–22:39That's a great story.
446. 22:39–22:42But modernity isn't always portrayed so triumphantly
447. 22:42–22:43in Shah's work, is it?
448. 22:43–22:44No, not at all.
449. 22:44–22:46Because the review details another story
450. 22:46–22:50called Naya Vyapar, which feels significantly darker.
451. 22:50–22:51Much darker.
452. 22:51–22:55In this one, you have this sick, aging man named Jitendra Prasad.
453. 22:55–22:57His entire family structure is completely
454. 22:57–22:59fracturing around him.
455. 22:59–23:00His children are scattered, entirely
456. 23:00–23:02obsessed with their own individual careers,
457. 23:02–23:04and lives in the big city.
458. 23:04–23:06But the truly haunting image of the story,
459. 23:06–23:09the one that really stuck with me, is his wife.
460. 23:09–23:13She literally leaves him lying sick in bed
461. 23:13–23:17so that she can go attend an International Women's Day event.
462. 23:17–23:20And she rides off on the back of a colleague's scooter.
463. 23:20–23:23That image is laced with such a very sharp,
464. 23:23–23:24almost bitter irony.
465. 23:24–23:25Yeah.
466. 23:25–23:28This story highlights the very deep anxieties
467. 23:28–23:31within the culture about the influx
468. 23:31–23:33of Western individualistic values.
469. 23:33–23:34How do you mean?
470. 23:34–23:37Well, the traditional joint family system,
471. 23:37–23:40which historically functioned as the primary social safety net
472. 23:40–23:41for people in this region,
473. 23:41–23:44is breaking down in these urban environments.
474. 23:44–23:46Right, because everyone is focused on themselves.
475. 23:46–23:47Exactly.
476. 23:47–23:49The pursuit of individual causes,
477. 23:49–23:51even ostensibly noble and progressive causes
478. 23:51–23:52like Women's Day,
479. 23:52–23:55is portrayed here as coming at the direct costs
480. 23:55–23:57of fundamental traditional care.
481. 23:57–23:57Wow, okay.
482. 23:57–24:00The irony of the wife abandoning her vulnerable,
483. 24:00–24:03sick husband, just to publicly celebrate Women's Day.
484. 24:03–24:04It's a harsh critique
485. 24:04–24:06of what the author views as performative modernity.
486. 24:06–24:08Right, like who are you actually helping?
487. 24:08–24:11Exactly, it asks the reader,
488. 24:11–24:15what is the actual value of theoretical social progress
489. 24:15–24:18if it requires abandoning your most basic human duties
490. 24:18–24:19to your family?
491. 24:19–24:21It's a devastating question.
492. 24:21–24:24And that theme of isolation within the family,
493. 24:24–24:26it continues in the story, Kalegar,
494. 24:26–24:28which translates to empty house, right?
495. 24:28–24:30Yes, empty house.
496. 24:30–24:32Here we have a couple, Jay Chandra and Jannaki,
497. 24:32–24:35and they live these completely parallel lives.
498. 24:35–24:38The reviewer describes them as train tracks that never meet.
499. 24:38–24:39A great metaphor.
500. 24:39–24:41Jannaki is described almost like a robot.
501. 24:41–24:43She perfectly and mechanically executes
502. 24:43–24:46all her traditional duties to her in-laws and the household.
503. 24:46–24:47But there is no warmth.
504. 24:47–24:49It's just duty.
505. 24:49–24:52Meanwhile, Jay Chandra lives entirely
506. 24:52–24:53in his own isolated world.
507. 24:53–24:56It is a chilling depiction of emotional starvation
508. 24:56–24:59within the physical proximity of a traditional marriage.
509. 24:59–25:01Emotional starvation, I like that phrase.
510. 25:01–25:02The outward structure of the institution
511. 25:02–25:03is perfectly maintained, right?
512. 25:03–25:06the chores are done, the family looks entirely intact
513. 25:06–25:09from the outside, but the internal emotional core
514. 25:09–25:10is completely dead.
515. 25:10–25:12It's just an empty shell.
516. 25:12–25:13Exactly.
517. 25:13–25:17It suggests that simply maintaining traditional structures
518. 25:17–25:20isn't enough if the actual human connection has evaporated.
519. 25:20–25:23And then all of these conflicting values,
520. 25:23–25:26the independence, the tradition, the regret,
521. 25:26–25:28they all seem to just crash violently
522. 25:28–25:30into each other in the story of Darsh.
523. 25:30–25:32Oh, this story is a gut punch.
524. 25:32–25:33It really is.
525. 25:33–25:35So a woman leaves her traditional husband
526. 25:35–25:36and her mother-in-law.
527. 25:36–25:39She actively chooses to abandon her past
528. 25:39–25:41because she desires modern independence.
529. 25:41–25:44Years later, she is working as a teacher,
530. 25:44–25:46seemingly having achieved the independent life
531. 25:46–25:48she always wanted.
532. 25:48–25:51But then she encounters a young man in her staff room.
533. 25:51–25:55His name is Adarsh, which literally translates to ideal.
534. 25:55–25:57And the Oh, Henry twist here is just devastating.
535. 25:57–25:58Right.
536. 25:58–26:01The young man, Adarsh, is the son of her ex-husband,
537. 26:01–26:03the son she presumably left behind
538. 26:03–26:05or the son of the family she abandoned.
539. 26:05–26:07The psychological impact on the protagonist
540. 26:07–26:09in that moment is profound.
541. 26:09–26:12She is suddenly forced to physically confront the life
542. 26:12–26:14and the people she discarded for her independence.
543. 26:14–26:16Yeah, you can't outrun it.
544. 26:16–26:16You can't.
545. 26:16–26:19The review suggests this story demonstrates the quote,
546. 26:19–26:21defeat of the divisive values
547. 26:21–26:23and the ultimate inescapable weight
548. 26:23–26:25of traditional family ties.
549. 26:25–26:29The physical manifestation of a family she left behind
550. 26:29–26:32standing right in front of her, bearing the name Ideal,
551. 26:32–26:35it shakes her entire modern worldview to its core.
552. 26:35–26:37It's brilliant, and there is even a paranormal mystery
553. 26:37–26:40mentioned in the collection called La Quitab,
554. 26:40–26:42involving a red diary and a ghost,
555. 26:42–26:45which just shows the sheer variety of genres Jot
556. 26:45–26:47is playing with to explore these themes.
557. 26:47–26:48He has tremendous range.
558. 26:48–26:51He does, but listening to you analyze these plots.
559. 26:51–26:53The deception in Pinkie's marriage,
560. 26:53–26:55the isolated sick father,
561. 26:55–26:57the emotionally dead marriage of the train tracks,
562. 26:57–27:00the regretful independent teacher.
563. 27:00–27:00I have to ask.
564. 27:00–27:01What's that?
565. 27:01–27:04Do these stories frame modernity as an outright tragedy?
566. 27:04–27:07Like is the city just inherently bad
567. 27:07–27:09or is it just portrayed as a very messy reality
568. 27:09–27:11that this culture simply has to navigate?
569. 27:11–27:14That is the crucial distinction to make.
570. 27:14–27:16The source text suggests it is viewed as a profound,
571. 27:16–27:18often very painful friction,
572. 27:18–27:20but not necessarily a pure tragedy.
573. 27:20–27:21Okay.
574. 27:21–27:25Remember, Pinky uses modern education to save her marriage.
575. 27:25–27:27That is a clear victory of modernity.
576. 27:27–27:30True. She used the tools of the modern world to her advantage.
577. 27:30–27:36Right. But there is an undeniable, deep-seated anxiety running through all these stories.
578. 27:36–27:41The transition from a communal, village-based mindset where everyone is deeply interconnected
579. 27:41–27:47to an urban, individualistic metropolis mindset is leaving people emotionally stranded.
580. 27:47–27:48It's the isolation.
581. 27:48–27:52Exactly. The physical structures of the family might survive the move to the city, but
582. 27:52–27:54the emotional core is hollowing out.
583. 27:54–27:55Wow.
584. 27:55–28:01Friction between the modern metropolis and traditional village values isn't just contained in short stories. No, it's everywhere
585. 28:01–28:08When we look at the next part of our source material, we see it is the absolute central battleground of modern Mithili novels
586. 28:08–28:14Yes, we have this really detailed review by Dugan and Mandol of a novel by Jagdish Prasad Mandal
587. 28:14–28:18The novel is titled Javan Maran, which translates to life and death
588. 28:18–28:24The title is extremely apt because the novel revolves entirely around the rituals of passing the plot
589. 28:24–28:28centers on a deeply respected elder in a village,
590. 28:28–28:30a man named Raghunandam.
591. 28:30–28:32And when he dies, his two sons are forced
592. 28:32–28:34to organize his funeral.
593. 28:34–28:34Okay.
594. 28:34–28:37But the sons represent the ultimate cultural divide
595. 28:37–28:38we've been talking about.
596. 28:38–28:39How so?
597. 28:39–28:42So, the older son Dev Nandan lives in the village
598. 28:42–28:43and he wants to respect and execute
599. 28:43–28:45all the traditional village rights.
600. 28:45–28:48But the younger son, Dayanand,
601. 28:48–28:49represents the westernized youth.
602. 28:49–28:51Ah, he's the city boy.
603. 28:51–28:52Yes.
604. 28:52–28:59He lives and works in the city and when he receives the news of his father's death his immediate reaction is heavily almost
605. 28:59–29:04Coldly pragmatic. What does he say? He essentially suggests why should I come all the way back to the village?
606. 29:04–29:08Why don't we just use an electric crematorium in the city to save time? Oh wow
607. 29:09–29:13This specific conflict the electric crematorium versus the traditional wooden pyre
608. 29:14–29:16It is such an incredibly powerful
609. 29:17–29:20Tangible metaphor for everything we've been discussing
610. 29:20–29:22It is the perfect distillation of the debate.
611. 29:22–29:24Because Dayanand, the city's son,
612. 29:24–29:27views his father's funeral as a logistical problem.
613. 29:27–29:28Right.
614. 29:28–29:28A problem that needs to be solved
615. 29:28–29:30as efficiently as possible.
616. 29:30–29:30Exactly.
617. 29:30–29:31Time is money in the city.
618. 29:31–29:32Right.
619. 29:32–29:34The electric crematorium is fast, it's hygienic,
620. 29:34–29:36it's cheap, and most importantly,
621. 29:36–29:39it requires absolute minimal community involvement.
622. 29:39–29:41You go in, you press a button, you go back to work.
623. 29:41–29:42Precisely.
624. 29:42–29:44The electric crematorium represents
625. 29:44–29:48the ultimate efficiency of modern individualism.
626. 29:48–29:50It privatizes grief.
627. 29:50–29:51That's it, exactly.
628. 29:51–29:52Privatized grief.
629. 29:52–29:55If I can use an analogy here for you listening,
630. 29:55–29:58the electric crematorium is like how we use social media
631. 29:58–30:00to process tragedy today.
632. 30:00–30:00Oh, that's interesting.
633. 30:00–30:01How do you mean?
634. 30:01–30:02Well, it's fast.
635. 30:02–30:03It's efficient.
636. 30:03–30:05You can just click a button to send a little condolence
637. 30:05–30:07emoji or quick thoughts and prayers post.
638. 30:07–30:09But ultimately, it is cold.
639. 30:09–30:11It demands nothing of you physically.
640. 30:11–30:14It is completely disconnected from the actual visceral
641. 30:14–30:15reality of the loss.
642. 30:15–30:17Whereas the traditional village funeral
643. 30:17–30:20as it's painstakingly detailed in the novel,
644. 30:20–30:25it is like a messy, exhausting, deeply human,
645. 30:25–30:26physical embrace.
646. 30:26–30:29That is a highly accurate parallel
647. 30:29–30:31to what the reviewer, Dugan Imandal,
648. 30:31–30:32draws out of the text.
649. 30:32–30:33Yes.
650. 30:33–30:35Because the novel doesn't just mention
651. 30:35–30:37the traditional funeral and passing.
652. 30:37–30:40It intimately details how the entire village
653. 30:40–30:42comes together for Ragu and Indan's rights.
654. 30:42–30:44It takes a village literally.
655. 30:44–30:45Literally.
656. 30:45–30:46In this traditional setting,
657. 30:46–30:49The village is not just a geographical location on a map.
658. 30:49–30:53It is portrayed as a living, breathing social organism.
659. 30:53–30:55And the review notes that the traditional pyre
660. 30:55–30:57requires physical wood.
661. 30:57–30:58It requires building a fire.
662. 30:58–31:00It requires intense physical labor.
663. 31:00–31:02And it demands time.
664. 31:02–31:06I think the text says 13 to 17 days of continuous rituals.
665. 31:06–31:07Yes, up to 17 days.
666. 31:07–31:11And that demand for time and labor is exactly the point.
667. 31:11–31:11It is.
668. 31:11–31:12Yes.
669. 31:12–31:14The traditional ritual forces the community
670. 31:14–31:17to physically stop their individual lives.
671. 31:17–31:19The burden of the funeral, the grief, the cost,
672. 31:19–31:22the sheer labor of it is distributed
673. 31:22–31:23among the entire community.
674. 31:23–31:24That's shared.
675. 31:24–31:25Exactly.
676. 31:25–31:27The review explicitly notes that during this time,
677. 31:27–31:31the village actively ignores its usual rigid cast lines.
678. 31:31–31:31Oh, really?
679. 31:31–31:32Yes.
680. 31:32–31:34Everyone has a mandated necessary role.
681. 31:34–31:35Right.
682. 31:35–31:37From the Brahmin priests chanting the mantras
683. 31:37–31:39to there's a specific character mentioned,
684. 31:39–31:43Chitan, who is a member of the Dalit Domcast
685. 31:43–31:47And his role is absolutely essential in providing the fire for the pyre.
686. 31:47–31:50Wow. It's an entire ecosystem of grief.
687. 31:50–31:51It is.
688. 31:51–31:55The novel seems to suggest that while the city offers this frictionless efficiency,
689. 31:56–31:59the village offers true shared humanity.
690. 31:59–32:02The traditional way is undeniably burdensome.
691. 32:02–32:04I mean, it takes weeks, it's exhausting, it's expensive,
692. 32:05–32:09but that very burden is exactly the glue that binds the community together.
693. 32:09–32:10Yes, the shared burden is the glue.
694. 32:10–32:14If you remove the burden with a fast electric crematorium, you remove the glue.
695. 32:14–32:20Trisely. And this intense fear of losing that communal bond, of losing the social glue,
696. 32:20–32:22it ties directly into another piece in the journal.
697. 32:22–32:23Which piece is that?
698. 32:23–32:27It is a highly-passioned, almost agonizing essay by Mooney Cammatt,
699. 32:27–32:31titled Katha Jara Hall Chee Hum, which translates to Where Are We Going?
700. 32:31–32:37Ah, yes. Cammett's piece is raw. She isn't just debating the abstract philosophical values
701. 32:37–32:43of city versus village like we just were, she is writing about tangible, terrifying physical
702. 32:43–32:48and moral destruction. She is very direct. Very. She points to rapid deforestation,
703. 32:48–32:54the literal destruction of the environment driven by human greed and so-called development.
704. 32:54–33:00But more horrifyingly, she writes extensively about an epidemic of violence against women.
705. 33:00–33:06Yes. She points out a terrifying inversion of societal roles that she sees occurring as these
706. 33:06–33:10traditional morals decay. What kind of inversion? Well, in a functioning society, there are
707. 33:10–33:13archetypes of protection, right? Yeah.
708. 33:13–33:17Fathers, brothers, and teachers are traditionally fundamentally viewed as the protectors of
709. 33:17–33:20the vulnerable. Right. That's the social contract. Exactly. But Kamat writes about
710. 33:20–33:25the horrifying modern reality where these very protectors are actively becoming the abusers.
711. 33:25–33:28Yeah. She writes this line that just stops you in your tracks. She says,
712. 33:28–33:32a brother has become a butcher and a father has taken the form of sin.
713. 33:32–33:34It is incredibly dark.
714. 33:34–33:35It is.
715. 33:35–33:36She asks the reader,
716. 33:36–33:41how can we possibly build a clean modern society with such dirty feet?
717. 33:41–33:46If we synthesize Kamat's essay with the novel Javan Moran,
718. 33:46–33:50we see a deeply unified theme running through the consciousness of this entire journal.
719. 33:50–33:51Right.
720. 33:51–33:55There is a profound existential anxiety that-
721. 33:55–33:58But you know it is important to remember that literature isn't just a eulogy.
722. 33:58–33:59No, not at all.
723. 33:59–34:00It isn't just about mourning the past.
724. 34:00–34:04It's also a tool for envisioning and demanding a fairer future.
725. 34:05–34:11Which brings us to a really fascinating historical essay in the journal by Dr. Arun Kumar Singh.
726. 34:11–34:15Ah yes. Social harmony in post-independence Mithili stories.
727. 34:15–34:16Exactly.
728. 34:16–34:22Dr. Singh's essay is absolutely crucial here because it provides the vital historical context
729. 34:22–34:24for literally everything we have discussed so far.
730. 34:24–34:25Okay. Lay out the history for us.
731. 34:25–34:29He traces the long evolution of Mithili literature.
732. 34:29–34:31Historically, going back centuries,
733. 34:31–34:35Methili literature was heavily influenced by Sanskrit and Bengali traditions.
734. 34:35–34:35Okay.
735. 34:35–34:41And because of those influences, the literature primarily focused on elite aristocratic themes.
736. 34:41–34:45The protagonists of the stories and poems were high-cast individuals,
737. 34:45–34:49wealthy landowners, or, you know, mythical figures from the Grand Ethics.
738. 34:49–34:50Right. Kings and gods.
739. 34:50–34:54Exactly. The daily grinding concerns of the common people,
740. 34:54–34:56the laborers, the lower castes.
741. 34:56–34:58They were largely absent from the formal written text.
742. 34:58–35:04But then, Dr. Singh notes, post-Independence India brings this massive seismic shift in the literature.
743. 35:04–35:06Yes, a complete paradigm shift.
744. 35:06–35:08He points to a new wave of writers who emerged.
745. 35:08–35:14He names figures like The Lyle, Raj Kamal, Sam Dev, Ramanaan Renu, and notably Subhash Chandra Yadav.
746. 35:14–35:21Yes. Subhash Chandra Yadav, the very author we saw, being defended in that angry editorial
747. 35:21–35:22right at the beginning of our deep dive.
748. 35:22–35:26Full circle. So these writers completely shifted the lens.
749. 35:26–35:29They stopped looking at the palaces and started looking at the fields.
750. 35:29–35:34They started writing about the marginalized, the exploited, the working class, and the Dalit communities.
751. 35:34–35:40And this shift introduces the core concept of Dr. Singh's entire essay, Samarasata.
752. 35:40–35:41Samarasata.
753. 35:41–35:44Yes, it translates roughly to social harmony.
754. 35:44–35:49But it is vital to understand that in the context of this specific literary movement,
755. 35:49–35:54Samarasata isn't just about a passive, quiet peace where everyone just blindly accepts their
756. 35:54–36:00lot in life. It's not just everyone get along. No, it is an active radical concept. It means
757. 36:00–36:05actively giving a platform of voice and visibility to those who are historically denied one.
758. 36:05–36:10Dr. Singh mentions specific stories as turning points for this, right? He does. He cites Lalit's
759. 36:10–36:16story Ramjani, which he calls an absolute masterpiece for its unflinching exposure of
760. 36:16–36:21feudal abuses. And he mentions some dev stories that depict the painful reality of the lower
761. 36:21–36:28classes with this deep, unprecedented intimacy, the literature transformed from just entertainment
762. 36:28–36:32for the elite into a tool for actual social visibility.
763. 36:32–36:32Exactly.
764. 36:32–36:37It was about moving away from class conflict by forcing the literary establishment to actually
765. 36:37–36:41acknowledge the humanity and the reality of the marginalized.
766. 36:41–36:42Yes.
767. 36:42–36:47The art became a mechanism for demanding structural change in society.
768. 36:47–36:51And this evolution perfectly connects back to the bitter literary politics we discussed
769. 36:51–36:53right at the start of our deep dive.
770. 36:53–36:54Right.
771. 36:54–36:57I was just thinking that because there is a glaring contradiction here and I really want
772. 36:57–36:58to push back on it.
773. 36:58–36:59Go for it.
774. 36:59–37:03If Dr. Singh is right, if the literature itself has spent the last 50 years becoming
775. 37:03–37:08progressively more inclusive, focusing on the marginalized and fighting for this radical
776. 37:08–37:14Samarasata, why are the institutions behind the literature still allegedly stuck in
777. 37:14–37:17in vicious, caste-based gatekeeping.
778. 37:17–37:18It's the million dollar question.
779. 37:18–37:19Right.
780. 37:19–37:21If the art is so progressive,
781. 37:21–37:23why is the editorial by Gajendra Thakur
782. 37:23–37:25screaming about paper organizations
783. 37:25–37:28and block monographs and black marketing?
784. 37:28–37:29It's a brilliant observation
785. 37:29–37:32and it highlights the fundamental friction
786. 37:32–37:34between the art of a culture
787. 37:34–37:36and the industry that governs that art.
788. 37:36–37:37They're two different things.
789. 37:37–37:38Very different.
790. 37:38–37:41The writers, people like Lalit or Suhashtra under Yadav,
791. 37:41–37:43they are pushing the boundaries on the page.
792. 37:43–37:46They are exploring the lives of the marginalized
793. 37:46–37:48and advocating for a new social harmony.
794. 37:48–37:51But the institutions, the academies that distribute
795. 37:51–37:54the funding, that publish the official monographs,
796. 37:54–37:57that hand out the awards and define the canon,
797. 37:57–38:00they're still, at least according to the editorial,
798. 38:00–38:01controlled by the old guard.
799. 38:01–38:03They are controlled by individuals
800. 38:03–38:06who historically held the power back
801. 38:06–38:08when the literature was only about the elite.
802. 38:08–38:10So the fight over an award
803. 38:10–38:12isn't just about ego or wanting a trophy.
804. 38:12–38:14It's a fight over the definition of progress.
805. 38:14–38:15Exactly.
806. 38:15–38:18The fight is over who actually gets to define
807. 38:18–38:20what social harmony looks like.
808. 38:20–38:23Is Samarasada defined by the traditional elites
809. 38:23–38:25maintaining a polite, undisturbed order?
810. 38:25–38:26Right.
811. 38:26–38:29Or is it defined by the new, sometimes angry voices
812. 38:29–38:31demanding structural change and equality?
813. 38:31–38:32Wow.
814. 38:32–38:34The friction occurs and it boils over
815. 38:34–38:37into those wild emails about WikiLeaks and the gutter
816. 38:37–38:39because the literature is evolving
817. 38:39–38:42significantly faster than the institutions governing it.
818. 38:42–38:46The art is in the 21st century, but the bureaucracy is struggling to leave the 19th.
819. 38:46–38:48That is perfectly stated.
820. 38:48–38:50That is such a fascinating tension.
821. 38:50–38:54The operating system of the culture is being completely rewritten by the authors, but the
822. 38:54–38:56old institutional hardware is struggling to run it.
823. 38:56–38:57I love that analogy.
824. 38:57–39:01Well, speaking of operating systems, that actually brings us to the final, and
825. 39:01–39:05honestly perhaps most technically fascinating part of the journal for me.
826. 39:05–39:06The language laboratory.
827. 39:06–39:07Yes.
828. 39:07–39:09The technical language debate.
829. 39:09–39:15because amidst all the politics, the social transitions, the debates over modernity, there
830. 39:15–39:22is this intense laser-like focus on the actual granular mechanics of the Methyli language
831. 39:22–39:23itself.
832. 39:23–39:24Right.
833. 39:24–39:29The journal dedicates a very significant amount of space to a fierce debate over education,
834. 39:29–39:33specifically advocating for higher education to be conducted in the mother tongue.
835. 39:33–39:38The author references guidelines from the University Grants Commission regarding PhDs.
836. 39:38–39:42They cite rulings from the Mumbai High Court, allowing native languages to be used in public
837. 39:42–39:47service interviews, and they even point to demands made by public figures like Baba Ramdev
838. 39:47–39:48regarding language rights.
839. 39:48–39:52The core argument they make here is fascinating because it's about cognitive processes, not
840. 39:52–39:54just cultural pride.
841. 39:54–39:57Yes, it's about how the brain actually works.
842. 39:57–40:01The text argues that the mother tongue is a person's first language of thought.
843. 40:01–40:05It is the language your brain uses to process reality.
844. 40:05–40:10So if you are forced to learn advanced complex concepts like quantum physics or advanced
845. 40:10–40:16macroeconomics in a secondary language like English, your brain is constantly running a
846. 40:16–40:18translation program in the background.
847. 40:18–40:19Exactly.
848. 40:19–40:21You lose cognitive efficiency.
849. 40:21–40:25You lose the deep, intuitive connection to the material because you are expending
850. 40:25–40:31mental energy just decoding the vocabulary words rather than grasping the core concept.
851. 40:31–40:32Exactly.
852. 40:32–40:36The source provides a really fantastic thought experiment regarding technology and language
853. 40:36–40:37to illustrate this.
854. 40:37–40:38Oh, the telephone example.
855. 40:38–40:39Yes.
856. 40:39–40:43It states that if the telephone had been invented in India, the very first word spoken
857. 40:43–40:45across it wouldn't have been hello.
858. 40:45–40:46Right.
859. 40:46–40:50Because technology is imported, the vocabulary to describe that technology is imported
860. 40:50–40:51with it.
861. 40:51–40:55And the journal argues that this creates a severe, almost insurmountable barrier
862. 40:55–40:58to native language adoption in the sciences.
863. 40:58–40:59It's a huge problem.
864. 40:59–41:04If a language doesn't actively develop its own technical and scientific vocabulary, if
865. 41:04–41:09it just defaults to using English words for every single new invention, it becomes relegated
866. 41:09–41:12entirely to the domestic sphere.
867. 41:12–41:15That is the ultimate danger of linguistic stagnation.
868. 41:15–41:22If Mathili doesn't have words for microchips or algorithms or frankly electric crematoriums,
869. 41:22–41:24it ceases to be a language of progress.
870. 41:24–41:25It just gets left behind.
871. 41:25–41:30It becomes a language used only for poetry, for folklore, for kitchen conversations with
872. 41:30–41:31your grandparents.
873. 41:31–41:39Meanwhile, English or Hindi becomes the exclusive language of the future, of science, of ambition.
874. 41:39–41:44The journal is arguing that for a language to truly survive, it must be able to describe
875. 41:44–41:45the future, not just the past.
876. 41:45–41:50Which means the language risks becoming a museum exhibit rather than a living tool.
877. 41:50–41:54But if we are going to talk about the language being used for poetry, we absolutely have
878. 41:54–41:58to talk about Ashish Anshunhar's guide to writing Ghazals in Mithili.
879. 41:58–41:58Oh, we do.
880. 41:58–42:03This was, without a doubt, the most mind-bending, unexpected part of the journal for me.
881. 42:03–42:07I always thought of poetry as this, like, free-flowing emotional expression of the soul.
882. 42:07–42:09Yeah, most people do.
883. 42:09–42:12But the guide presented here, this is mathematics, this is pure engineering.
884. 42:12–42:14It is highly, highly technical.
885. 42:14–42:20A Ghazal, just for some quick context, is a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets
886. 42:20–42:20and a refrain.
887. 42:20–42:21Okay.
888. 42:21–42:29It originated in Arabic poetry, but was deeply adapted into Persian, Urdu, and eventually various South Asian languages, including Nathalie.
889. 42:29–42:38And Ankenhar's guide in the journal breaks down the absolute unyielding rigidity required to write a true, structurally sound gazale in Nathalie.
890. 42:38–42:44Let's unpack these rules for the listener, because they are intense. First, you have the concept of the radif.
891. 42:44–42:45The radif, yes.
892. 42:45–42:52This is the word, or sometimes a short phrase, that must be repeated at the exact end of every single line in the couplet throughout the entire poem.
893. 42:52–42:58Correct. The Radif is the anchor of the poem. But the real terrifying complexity for a poet lies in the kafia.
894. 42:58–42:59The kafia.
895. 42:59–43:03The kafia is the rhyming word that comes immediately preceding the Radif.
896. 43:03–43:09And the guide makes it clear that it's not just about finding words that sort of sound alike, like a loose rhyme and a pop song.
897. 43:09–43:10No, there is no close enough.
898. 43:10–43:16The rules for the kafia are incredibly strict. It is about matching vowels sounds perfectly
899. 43:16–43:21Let me give the exact example from the text before it if your kafia ends in the consonant G and
900. 43:21–43:25The vowel preceding that G is an a like in the word rag
901. 43:25–43:32Then every single kafia in the entire gazelle must match that exact a plus G phonetic structure
902. 43:32–43:36Yes, you can use words like tag or bag or jog. Okay, that sounds easy enough
903. 43:36–43:43But, and this is the kicker, you absolutely cannot use a word where the internal vowel changes,
904. 43:43–43:45even slightly, even if it ends in G.
905. 43:45–43:47Oh wow.
906. 43:47–43:50The guide goes into deep phonetic alision.
907. 43:50–43:55It explains the rules for what happens when you drop an E or Y sound in the Thilley pronunciation
908. 43:55–43:59and how that specific drop directly impacts the legality of the kuffia.
909. 43:59–44:01It's like grammar police on steroids.
910. 44:01–44:05It even dictates the strict guidelines on using an amusfar, which is the nasal dot
911. 44:05–44:08used in the written script versus using a Panchamaksha,
912. 44:08–44:11which is the specific fifth nasal consonant
913. 44:11–44:12of a phonetic class.
914. 44:12–44:13That is so specific.
915. 44:13–44:17The poet must maintain absolute flawless consistency
916. 44:17–44:20in these microscopic phonetic details.
917. 44:20–44:22The level of discipline required is staggering.
918. 44:22–44:24If I can use another analogy here,
919. 44:24–44:27it is exactly like a complex mathematical algorithm
920. 44:27–44:29or writing a piece of software code.
921. 44:29–44:30Yes, it is.
922. 44:30–44:33In code, if you miss one variable,
923. 44:33–44:34if you forget one semi colon
924. 44:34–44:38or if you accidentally swap an A for an E in line 14,
925. 44:38–44:40the entire program crashes.
926. 44:40–44:41It just won't run.
927. 44:41–44:42It breaks.
928. 44:42–44:43According to Anshunhar's guide,
929. 44:43–44:46the gazelle is exactly the same.
930. 44:46–44:48If you mess up the internal vowel
931. 44:48–44:50of the kafia in the sixth stanza,
932. 44:50–44:52the poem doesn't just sound a bit clunky,
933. 44:52–44:53it is structurally invalid.
934. 44:53–44:55The program crashes.
935. 44:55–44:58What is truly beautiful about this rigidity though,
936. 44:58–44:59especially when you view it
937. 44:59–45:01in the context of the entire journal,
938. 45:01–45:03is what it demands of the writer.
939. 45:03–45:03What do you mean?
940. 45:03–45:05Think about everything we have discussed today.
941. 45:05–45:09The Mayfield Society is changing at breakneck speed.
942. 45:09–45:13Families are fracturing in the cities, villages are modernizing, electric crematoriums are
943. 45:13–45:18replacing pires, political battles are raging over awards and cannons, everything is
944. 45:18–45:21in a state of absolute flux.
945. 45:21–45:26But the linguistic rules of the Gazal, they remain absolute.
946. 45:26–45:27They're completely unyielding.
947. 45:27–45:33To write a successful Gazal, the poet cannot just rely on passion or raw emotion.
948. 45:33–45:37They must possess total mathematical mastery of their mother tongue.
949. 45:37–45:39It forces preservation through discipline.
950. 45:39–45:40Exactly.
951. 45:40–45:44It shows that a language isn't just a casual means of communication.
952. 45:44–45:47It is a profound architectural structure of thought.
953. 45:47–45:51The gazal forces the poet to preserve the phonetic purity of the language, acting
954. 45:51–45:54as a bulwark against linguistic decay.
955. 45:54–45:55It's incredible.
956. 45:55–45:59You have this language that is literally fighting for its life in the modern world,
957. 45:59–46:02fighting for space and university classrooms, fighting against the tide of important,
958. 46:02–46:06English technical vocabulary, but within the walls of a gazelle.
959. 46:06–46:07Yes.
960. 46:07–46:08Within the gazelle it is pristine.
961. 46:08–46:12It is perfect, controlled, and completely unyielding.
962. 46:12–46:16It is a sanctuary of structure amidst the chaos of transition.
963. 46:16–46:17Man.
964. 46:17–46:18Okay.
965. 46:18–46:21We have covered an immense amount of ground today.
966. 46:21–46:28Let's take a breath and just recap the sweeping journey we've been on through the pages of Vidae Sedea 12.
967. 46:28–46:29It has been a long journey.
968. 46:29–46:33We started in the bitter combative trenches
969. 46:33–46:34of literary politics, right?
970. 46:34–46:39Looking at explosive allegations of caste-based gatekeeping,
971. 46:39–46:41blocked monographs, and the fierce fight
972. 46:41–46:44over who gets to define the cultural canon
973. 46:44–46:46through institutions like the Sahita Academy.
974. 46:46–46:49And from there, we saw the vital international celebration
975. 46:49–46:51of the language across the border
976. 46:51–46:53at the Nepalese presidential palace.
977. 46:53–46:54Right, the seven books.
978. 46:54–46:57And we explored the crucial work of pioneers like
979. 46:57–47:03Manipodma who preserved oral folk deities by bravely writing them into the formal literary record.
980. 47:03–47:08Then we dove deep into the psychological transitions of modernizing families in Sujikumarsha's short
981. 47:08–47:13stories. We watched traditional roles fracture and reform in the city, from pinkies subverting
982. 47:13–47:18the wronged woman trope to the isolated sick father abandoned for a modern holiday.
983. 47:18–47:19Such a powerful contrast.
984. 47:19–47:24And we contrasted that urban isolation with the deep anxieties over moral decay and the
985. 47:24–47:30loss of communal bonds in the village, which was perfectly symbolized by the intense debate
986. 47:30–47:35over the efficiency of the electric crematorium versus the heavy, shared human burden of the
987. 47:35–47:37traditional funeral pyre.
988. 47:37–47:43We also examined the evolution of the literature itself with Dr. Singh, moving from elite aristocratic
989. 47:43–47:49concerns to actively giving a voice to the marginalized in the radical pursuit of
990. 47:49–47:52samar sada, or social harmony.
991. 47:52–47:57And finally, we explored the language laboratories seeing how Mathili struggles to adopt scientific
992. 47:57–48:02vocabulary while simultaneously preserving its brilliant structural beauty in the incredibly
993. 48:02–48:04rigid mathematical coding of the gazelle.
994. 48:04–48:10It truly is a comprehensive stunning portrait of a culture in active, passionate transition.
995. 48:10–48:11It really is.
996. 48:11–48:15And it leaves me with one final thought to ponder, bringing us right back to where
997. 48:15–48:16we started.
998. 48:16–48:17What's that?
999. 48:17–48:19Today we saw how a language fights to survive.
1000. 48:19–48:24through messy vitriolic politics, through heart-wrenching stories of social change, and
1001. 48:24–48:27through strict, unbreakable poetic rules.
1002. 48:27–48:31But if a culture's language is the operating system of its people, the invisible code that
1003. 48:31–48:36dictates how they perceive reality, what happens when the youth no longer know the
1004. 48:36–48:37code?
1005. 48:37–48:38That is the question.
1006. 48:38–48:42Will the mythilli of the future be perfectly preserved, frozen in the rigid mathematics
1007. 48:42–48:44of beautiful gazelles?
1008. 48:44–48:48Or will it have to fundamentally break its own rules to survive the cold, fast
1009. 48:48–48:51efficiency of the electric crematoriums of the modern world.
1010. 48:51–48:56That is the existential question every ancient language must answer as it faces the future.
1011. 48:56–48:58Something for all of us to mull over.
1012. 48:58–49:00Thank you for joining us and remember to keep diving deep.

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विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। विचार-विमर्चक रेक। over a misplaced comma or a mixed metaphor. But you definitely don't imagine people invoking international whistleblowing scandals, like literally citing WikiLeaks. No, definitely not. Or weaponizing the Right to Information Act, and hurling these deeply personal insults about colleagues being quote, down in the gutter. Yeah, it gets intense. It really does. But the stack of sources we have for you today, and yes, I'm talking to you, our listener city writer with us, it proves that the reality of this world is anything but quiet. Oh, it is absolutely explosive. It is. And so I have a question for you before we even start. Have you ever really considered how much drama and intense passion and, well, strict, almost mathematical precision actually goes into keeping a language alive? It's completely counterintuitive, honestly. I mean, we all kind of assume that literature, especially regional literature, exists in this serene academic bubble. Right, protected from the real world. Exactly. But when you are dealing with a language that is actively fighting for its space, its resources, and you know, its very identity in the modern world, that bubble just completely bursts. Yeah. The stakes become incredibly surprisingly high. Well, okay, let's unpack this because that is our exact mission for today's deep dive. Let's do it. We are looking at a really fascinating primary source today. It's a collection of excerpts from an e-journal called Videa Sadeja 12. Polish back in 2012, right? 2012, yep. It's a Mathili publication and it's totally official, complete with an ISSN number 2229-547X for the record. Very official. And we are going to use these pages to unpack the vibrant and honestly sometimes incredibly contentious but deeply rich world of modern Mephili literature. It's a huge topic. It is. We're going to navigate the fierce political infighting over literary awards. We'll look at the profound psychological struggle between modern city life and traditional village values. Which is a huge theme in this journal. Massive. And then we'll look at the push to elevate marginalized voices. And finally, we are going to end on the incredibly strict rules of writing a Mathili Ghazal. Oh, the Ghazal rules. I can't wait for that part. It's like like math. But before we get there, set the scene for us. What exactly is the cultural landscape we are stepping into here? Like for someone who isn't familiar. Right. So to really grasp the intensity of these texts, we first need to understand the language itself. Um, Mathili is an ancient Indo-Aryan language. Okay. And it's spoken primarily in the Bihar and Tarkhan states of India. But significantly, and this is important, it's also spoken across the border in the eastern Taraai region of Nepal. Oh wow, so it's transnational. Exactly. So right out of the gate, you're dealing with a language that spans an international border and it carries this massive, massive amount of historical weight. Right, because it's not just a dialect, right? No, not at all. It has its own script, its own incredibly deep literary traditions and a vast population of speakers who are currently like right now navigating this extreme transition. A transition from what to what, exactly. from a largely agrarian, you know, village-based society to a highly urbanized, globalized 21st century reality. Okay, yeah. And as we see right on the very first pages of this journal, that transition is generating a massive amount of heat. Oh, absolute fire. The first piece we encounter is this editorial written by Gajendra Thakur. And I mean, it immediately drops us into the absolute battlefield of literary politics and patronage. It really does. It reads less like an academic introduction and way more like a fiery expose. Yes, but wait, before we really dive into the specifics of this editorial, I think we need to make something very clear to everyone list. Oh, absolutely. This is crucial. Right. So we are looking at the source material completely impartially. We are simply reporting the claims and allegations exactly as the author of this editorial has laid them out. Exactly. We are not endorsing either side of these very heated, highly politically and socially charged arguments. Not at all. Our goal here is strictly to understand the dynamics that are at play within this specific literary community purely as they are framed by this text. Perfect, yes. We are looking at this text as an artifact. A very spicy artifact. Very. So what this artifact alleges is that the Mathili literary community is deeply deeply fractured by caste-based gatekeeping. The editorial specifically claims there is this clash between Bramanical and Coyasta ideologies and that this clash is dictating who gets published, who gets awarded, and ultimately who gets erased from the cultural record. Yeah, the author, Gijendra Thakur, he does not mince words at all. He points to very, very specific examples to build his case. What kind of examples? Well, for instance, he alleges there was a deliberate coordinated conspiracy against this specific author named Suhashtandry Yadav, and his book, Bonnet Be Great. Okay, a conspiracy. Why him? The text claims that because Yadav absolutely refuses to compromise on his ideology and because he actively fights for his community's language, he essentially became a target. Wow. Yeah. And Taku doesn't just vaguely gesture at the establishment. He specifically names influential figures like Ramdev Chah and Mohan Faradwaj as the architects of this targeting. He's naming names. That is bold for an academic journal. It is. And the allegations, they go way beyond just a single book. Right. Because because then he talks about a monograph, right? Yes. So he claims that a monograph, which is a very detailed academic study on a single subject on a writer named Raj Kamal Chaudhary, which importantly was also written by Sipash Chanda Yadav. So it's the same guy again? Exactly. He claims this monograph was deliberately blocked from publication by the Sahitya Academy. Okay, wait, let's pause there for you listening, because if you don't know the context, that might not sound like a huge deal. But the Sahitya Academy is India's National Academy of Letters, right? It is massive. It is an incredibly prestigious government-backed institution. So having a book blocked by them isn't just like getting a rejection letter from a small indie press. No, not at all. The author is framing this as a deliberate act of institutional silencing by these specific named individuals. That is heavy. But I guess, and maybe this is a naive question, why does it matter that much? Like why would a blocked monograph weren't such a furious, blistering editorial. It's a great question. And to understand it, we really have to look at the mechanics of how cultural preservation actually works. OK, walk me through it. Why do literary awards and publications from institutions like the Sahija Academy matter? It isn't just about getting a nice shiny plaque for your wall or a bit of prize money. These institutions literally dictate the historical canon. They decide who gets recorded in the National archives, they determine which specific dialect, which vocabulary, and which social perspective of the language is deemed the standard. Oh, I see. And then that standard is what gets taught in schools. Exactly. It's what gets preserved for centuries. It's the official record. So it's basically the keys to the cultural kingdom. Like if you aren't in the canon, did you even exist? Precisely. When a language community feels its resources are scarce. Or when it feels the immense pressure of a rapidly globalizing world that clearly prioritizes English or Hindi. Yeah, that pressure must be intense. It is. And so the stakes for controlling those internal literary resources become completely existential because whoever controls the awards, they control the entire narrative of what My Thilly Literature actually is. Man, I really wanna pull on that thread because the editorial actually takes this a step further. Oh, it goes much further. Yeah, it explicitly accuses various cultural institutions of quote, black marketing for coordinator posts at the Saheeta Academy in Delhi. Such a strong phrase. Right, black marketing. And it lists specific organizations. It calls out the Vidyapati Seva Sanstan in Darbhanga, the Chetna Samiti in Patna, and several others. Bhakar basically claims that many of these are just paper organizations. Like they are run entirely on cast, regional, and hereditary lines, rather than operating on any kind of genuine literary merit. Yeah, and using the term black marketing in literary context is just incredibly loaded. That sounds illegal. It implies that influence, prestige and representation are literally commodities. Commodities being illicitly traded behind closed doors by power brokers rather than being earned through the actual merit of the art. That's wild. The author is essentially suggesting a complete institutional failure. saying the bodies that are meant to champion the language are instead being used as personal fiefdoms. It honestly reminds me of like a really fierce local election or even the intense clique dynamics of a high school but scaled up to this grand culturally existential level. It's a really good analogy actually. The stakes just feel astronomically high precisely because the community is so insulated, you know. You are fighting over this very specific, very vital piece of cultural real estate. And the editorial goes on to harshly criticize recent awards too, down to the granular level. Oh yeah, it attacks a youth award given to a non-Kumarcha. It claims the whole selection process for him was highly questionable. And then it just straight up calls another author, Pankosh Parashar, a thief. It says he's a thief being protected by his cast peers. It's relentless. It really is. And it even goes after a children's literature award. The award was given to Merlidharcha for his book Pilpila Gash. Right. And the editorial claims it isn't even proper children's literature and then this is the craziest part to me. It mocks him for proudly wearing the traditional garland and headdress, the pog, while accepting the award. I mean the sheer granular level of these grievances is wild. Yeah. To go down to criticizing the traditional headwear someone chose to wear at an award ceremony. It just shows how deeply personal this all is. It's so personal. But the raw emotion in the text, It truly culminates in a piece of actual evidence the editor includes. Oh, the email. The email is a poorly written English email, presented right there as a direct artifact of a real world dispute. Okay, this email is wild. I actually have a bit of this for you listening, because it perfectly captures the exact friction we are talking about. Please do. Okay, so the email is complaining about a write to information or RTI report regarding some translation assignments. Right, which is a legal mechanism in India. Exactly. And it accuses the journal's team of propagating, quote, some sort of WikiLeaks. Unbelievable. And then it just completely devolves. It says, though during the debate I found your esteemed literary colleague Priyanka Chah down to the gutter, she had neither the manner nor mind to enter into a debate of literary kind. It is such a remarkable jarring artifact to just find randomly in the pages of an academic literary journal. It really strips away the polite veneer, doesn't it? Entirely. I mean, think about the elements that are colliding in that single email. You have individuals using state legal mechanisms, the Right to Information Act, to audit translation assignments. You have them invoking global geopolitical controversies, like WikiLeaks, to describe local literary gossip. It's so dramatic. And then they resort to these deeply personal, highly gendered insults like Town to the Gutter. It just proves that the tension isn't theoretical at all. It isn't just polite disagreement over syntax in a classroom. It is playing out viciously in their actual inboxes. Absolutely. But I have to pose a question to you based on all this mudslinging. Because looking at this level of intense, bitter in fighting, is this a sign of a dying language? Like is this just people fighting over the last few scraps of funding and recognition in a shrinking ecosystem, or is it actually the exact opposite? Ringing. I mean, is this a sign of a deeply passionate community, a community that cares so intensely about its cultural output that they're willing to literally go to war over a translation assignment? You know, that is perhaps the most profound question raised by this first text. It hits on the central paradox of any culture that is under pressure. On one hand, factionalism is undeniably destructive, right? It drains limited resources. It exhausts the community. Yeah, and I imagine it alienates people. Oh, completely. It alienates young new writers who just want to share their work and don't want to navigate a political minefield just to publish a single poem. Totally. But on the other hand, apathy is the true death of a language. Oh, that's a great point. The very fact that someone cares enough to go through the legal trouble of filing an RTI request just to find out who received a translation assignment, that proves that the assignment still matters deeply. If it care? Yes. The literature is alive enough to fight over. I mean, if the language were truly dead, no one would bother arguing about who gets to wear the pie at the awards ceremony. They just wouldn't care. That is a really fascinating way to look at it. The anger is a pulse. It means the patient is alive. Exactly. A very high blood pressure pulse, maybe. But a pulse nonetheless. Yes. And what's really incredible is that despite all this intense gatekeeping we just talked about, Despite the bitter controversies in the editorial rooms of Delhi and Darbhanga, the actual work of creating and celebrating art is completely unstopped. It is thriving. In fact, it is crossing international borders. It is. The source material pivots quite dramatically right after this. It goes from this very internal localized conflict to an international celebration. Right. The journal features a really detailed report from Rajbiraj, which is a city in Nepal regarding the Mathili Pratipa Puraskar. Which is a major talent award, right? It's a very significant award. And what I love about this report is how diverse the list of winners is. They awarded seven individuals. They recognized a poet, Sagar Vir Kadari, but they also recognized a radio actor, Jabak Das. And they recognized musicians too, like Devendra Sahasoni and Preeti Adhikari. I feel like it really highlights this literature isn't just words printed on a page. You know, it is a living, breathing, auditory and performative culture. I agree completely and the cross-border nature of this celebration is just so vital to understand. Because it's not just happening in India. Right. Following the report on the Rajbheeraj Awards, the text details a massive event at Sheetal Nawaz. What's Sheetal Nawaz for context? Sheetal Nawaz is the official residence of the President of Nepal. Oh, wow. So this is a huge deal. A very huge deal. The Nepalese president at the time, Ram Bir and Yadav, officially launched seven books by a single journalist and author named Rajendra Nepali. Wait, seven books dropped at once by one guy? Seven books, yes. That is a staggering amount of creative output. Who has the time? It really is incredible. And the titles of these books are incredibly telling too. We have one called L'Uktantra Kallalima, which points to the dawn or the redness of democracy. We have Vichar Kranti, which hints at a revolution of thought. There is Nav Nepal, or New Nepal, and a book called Sohagin. They all sound so politically and socially charged. They absolutely are. And what really stands out in this report is that the President of Nepal specifically praised Rajendra Nepali for his dual role. His dual role? Yeah. He lauded him as both a journalist and a literary figure. He noted his crucial work in keeping the history of the Mithila region and specifically its martyrs alive. This perfectly illustrates how literature in this specific regional context serves as a crucial bridge. Yeah, because you have two sovereign nations, India and Nepal. Right, two nations that share this deep linguistic and cultural heritage. And the literature acts as this unifying thread that just completely transcends the political border. It allows a shared history to survive regardless of lines on a map. It's so powerful. And speaking of cementing history, the journal also covers a book launch back in India in Sahar Sath. Yep. This was for Dr. Devanarayan Sath's critical study of an author known simply as Manipodma. And this study was launched by a Sahitya Academy winner, Professor Mayanand Mishra. So again, some heavy hitters involved here. Definitely. From what the sources tell us, this guy Manipodma was an absolute pioneer. Manipodma is a monumental figure in this landscape. His inclusion in this journal is deeply significant. Why is that? What did he do? Well, the text notes he was the first Mephili detective novelist. Which is a fun fact, a fascinating genre milestone in itself. It is. But his true lasting significance lies in his relationship to folklore. Manipadma was actually the first author to give formal literary shape to regional folk deities. Oh right. The text mentions names like Lurik, Sages, and Shuharmul. Yes, exactly. And to really understand why this was such a massive cultural shift, we have to look at the historical divide between oral and written traditions. Okay, lay it out for me. In many cultures, really, across the globe, oral traditions. Yeah. The stories passed down by the common people, the village myths, the songs of the laborers. Right, the stuff that isn't written down in fancy books. Exactly. Those oral traditions are often marginalized by the established written canon. The written canon is usually controlled by the elite, the educated, the upper castes. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. So, by taking these oral deities, loric, solhez, chouharmal, and writing them into formal novels, Manipodma essentially legitimized oral history. Wow. He took the stories of the village, of the common folk, and forced the literary establishment to recognize them as high art. He essentially smuggled the village into the library. That's a perfect way to phrase it, yes. He completely democratized the literature. And now, by having Dr. Saw write a critical study of Manipodma, that legacy is cemented. Because critical studies are kind of like the machinery of preservation. Precisely. An author might be very popular in their own time, but critical studies are what ensure that author is actually taught in universities 50 years later. They validate the work academically. It really just shows how incredibly diverse this whole ecosystem is. I mean, we go from bitter, mud slinging arguments over who gets a modern fellowship to a presidential palace launching seven blocks on democracy, to celebrating the guy who wrote the first Mathili detective novel and legitimized folk gods. This is a vibrant, chaotic mix. It really is. But here's where my mind goes. How does all of this vast history, all these big political themes, actually filter down into the daily lives of the people speaking the language today? That is the big question. Right. And the journal tackles this head on with a really comprehensive review by Dr. Rajendra Vimal. He reviews a short story collection called Jindagi. Ah, yes, Jindagi, written by Sujit Kumarjha. This review is honestly a phenomenal window into the current psychological state of the Mathili Middle Class. Okay, tell me more. What's his style like? Well, Dr. Vimal highly praises Jaws style, particularly his conciseness and his incredible psychological depth. He specifically compares Jaws narrative structure to the American writer, O. Henry. Oh, I love a good O. Henry comparison. Right. There is literally nothing better than getting to the last paragraph of a story and having the rug completely pulled out from under you, forcing you to reevaluate every single thing you just read. Exactly. And Dr. Vimal notes how Jalal uses those sharp, unexpected twist endings to suddenly reveal a really deep, often very uncomfortable psychological truth about his characters. And the stories summarized in this review, they all seem to be dealing with this intense friction of modernity. They capture the urban transition perfectly. They really do. Let's actually break some of these plots down for you listening because they are incredibly rich. Let's start with the story called Fafal Fulac Rahal. Right, so this story is a brilliant, brilliant examination of class, expectation and agency. The protagonist is a young woman named Pinky. Okay. She is highly educated. She comes from a good respectable family. And she enters into an arranged marriage entirely believing that her new husband is an assistant station master at the railway, which is a very respectable solid job. Very solid. But the twist, the inciting incident of the entire story is her sudden discovery that she has been deceived. Oh no. Her husband is not the assistant station master, he's actually just a lowly pointsman. Wait, what does a pointsman do? He is the manual laborer who physically pulls the heavy levers for the train tracks out in the yard. Oh wow, so that is a massive betrayal of trust. Massive. And I feel like in traditional literature or honestly, even in a modern soap opera, this is the exact moment where the the heroine throws herself on the bed and weeps, right? She realizes she's been deceived by her family, by his family, she is trapped in a much lower social station than she was promised. She becomes the ultimate wronged woman trope. That is exactly the expectation the narrative sets up. It primes you for a tragedy, but Pinky completely subverts it. How so? Instead of collapsing into passive despair or fleeing back to her parents in shame, she actively takes charge of the situation. I love that. The text notes that she remembers her wedding vows, which interestingly grounds her in tradition, but she uses that tradition as a foundation for radical modern action. Which she do. She decides to forge her own destiny. She basically sits her husband down, forces him to study, educates him herself, pushes him through the ranks. No. Yeah. And by the end of the story, she has actually helped him become a real assistant station master. That is incredible. She engineers her own redemption. Exactly. She doesn't wait for a savior. She doesn't wallow in pity. She just becomes the architect of her own reality. It is profound subversion of the standard patriarchal narrative. It shows a modern, Mayfield woman who absolutely refuses to be a victim of fate or social deception. She utilizes modern education to forcefully rewrite her socio-economic reality, elevating both herself and her husband. It's a very empowering view of modernity. That's a great story. But modernity isn't always portrayed so triumphantly in Shah's work, is it? No, not at all. Because the review details another story called Naya Vyapar, which feels significantly darker. Much darker. In this one, you have this sick, aging man named Jitendra Prasad. His entire family structure is completely fracturing around him. His children are scattered, entirely obsessed with their own individual careers, and lives in the big city. But the truly haunting image of the story, the one that really stuck with me, is his wife. She literally leaves him lying sick in bed so that she can go attend an International Women's Day event. And she rides off on the back of a colleague's scooter. That image is laced with such a very sharp, almost bitter irony. Yeah. This story highlights the very deep anxieties within the culture about the influx of Western individualistic values. How do you mean? Well, the traditional joint family system, which historically functioned as the primary social safety net for people in this region, is breaking down in these urban environments. Right, because everyone is focused on themselves. Exactly. The pursuit of individual causes, even ostensibly noble and progressive causes like Women's Day, is portrayed here as coming at the direct costs of fundamental traditional care. Wow, okay. The irony of the wife abandoning her vulnerable, sick husband, just to publicly celebrate Women's Day. It's a harsh critique of what the author views as performative modernity. Right, like who are you actually helping? Exactly, it asks the reader, what is the actual value of theoretical social progress if it requires abandoning your most basic human duties to your family? It's a devastating question. And that theme of isolation within the family, it continues in the story, Kalegar, which translates to empty house, right? Yes, empty house. Here we have a couple, Jay Chandra and Jannaki, and they live these completely parallel lives. The reviewer describes them as train tracks that never meet. A great metaphor. Jannaki is described almost like a robot. She perfectly and mechanically executes all her traditional duties to her in-laws and the household. But there is no warmth. It's just duty. Meanwhile, Jay Chandra lives entirely in his own isolated world. It is a chilling depiction of emotional starvation within the physical proximity of a traditional marriage. Emotional starvation, I like that phrase. The outward structure of the institution is perfectly maintained, right? the chores are done, the family looks entirely intact from the outside, but the internal emotional core is completely dead. It's just an empty shell. Exactly. It suggests that simply maintaining traditional structures isn't enough if the actual human connection has evaporated. And then all of these conflicting values, the independence, the tradition, the regret, they all seem to just crash violently into each other in the story of Darsh. Oh, this story is a gut punch. It really is. So a woman leaves her traditional husband and her mother-in-law. She actively chooses to abandon her past because she desires modern independence. Years later, she is working as a teacher, seemingly having achieved the independent life she always wanted. But then she encounters a young man in her staff room. His name is Adarsh, which literally translates to ideal. And the Oh, Henry twist here is just devastating. Right. The young man, Adarsh, is the son of her ex-husband, the son she presumably left behind or the son of the family she abandoned. The psychological impact on the protagonist in that moment is profound. She is suddenly forced to physically confront the life and the people she discarded for her independence. Yeah, you can't outrun it. You can't. The review suggests this story demonstrates the quote, defeat of the divisive values and the ultimate inescapable weight of traditional family ties. The physical manifestation of a family she left behind standing right in front of her, bearing the name Ideal, it shakes her entire modern worldview to its core. It's brilliant, and there is even a paranormal mystery mentioned in the collection called La Quitab, involving a red diary and a ghost, which just shows the sheer variety of genres Jot is playing with to explore these themes. He has tremendous range. He does, but listening to you analyze these plots. The deception in Pinkie's marriage, the isolated sick father, the emotionally dead marriage of the train tracks, the regretful independent teacher. I have to ask. What's that? Do these stories frame modernity as an outright tragedy? Like is the city just inherently bad or is it just portrayed as a very messy reality that this culture simply has to navigate? That is the crucial distinction to make. The source text suggests it is viewed as a profound, often very painful friction, but not necessarily a pure tragedy. Okay. Remember, Pinky uses modern education to save her marriage. That is a clear victory of modernity. True. She used the tools of the modern world to her advantage. Right. But there is an undeniable, deep-seated anxiety running through all these stories. The transition from a communal, village-based mindset where everyone is deeply interconnected to an urban, individualistic metropolis mindset is leaving people emotionally stranded. It's the isolation. Exactly. The physical structures of the family might survive the move to the city, but the emotional core is hollowing out. Wow. Friction between the modern metropolis and traditional village values isn't just contained in short stories. No, it's everywhere When we look at the next part of our source material, we see it is the absolute central battleground of modern Mithili novels Yes, we have this really detailed review by Dugan and Mandol of a novel by Jagdish Prasad Mandal The novel is titled Javan Maran, which translates to life and death The title is extremely apt because the novel revolves entirely around the rituals of passing the plot centers on a deeply respected elder in a village, a man named Raghunandam. And when he dies, his two sons are forced to organize his funeral. Okay. But the sons represent the ultimate cultural divide we've been talking about. How so? So, the older son Dev Nandan lives in the village and he wants to respect and execute all the traditional village rights. But the younger son, Dayanand, represents the westernized youth. Ah, he's the city boy. Yes. He lives and works in the city and when he receives the news of his father's death his immediate reaction is heavily almost Coldly pragmatic. What does he say? He essentially suggests why should I come all the way back to the village? Why don't we just use an electric crematorium in the city to save time? Oh wow This specific conflict the electric crematorium versus the traditional wooden pyre It is such an incredibly powerful Tangible metaphor for everything we've been discussing It is the perfect distillation of the debate. Because Dayanand, the city's son, views his father's funeral as a logistical problem. Right. A problem that needs to be solved as efficiently as possible. Exactly. Time is money in the city. Right. The electric crematorium is fast, it's hygienic, it's cheap, and most importantly, it requires absolute minimal community involvement. You go in, you press a button, you go back to work. Precisely. The electric crematorium represents the ultimate efficiency of modern individualism. It privatizes grief. That's it, exactly. Privatized grief. If I can use an analogy here for you listening, the electric crematorium is like how we use social media to process tragedy today. Oh, that's interesting. How do you mean? Well, it's fast. It's efficient. You can just click a button to send a little condolence emoji or quick thoughts and prayers post. But ultimately, it is cold. It demands nothing of you physically. It is completely disconnected from the actual visceral reality of the loss. Whereas the traditional village funeral as it's painstakingly detailed in the novel, it is like a messy, exhausting, deeply human, physical embrace. That is a highly accurate parallel to what the reviewer, Dugan Imandal, draws out of the text. Yes. Because the novel doesn't just mention the traditional funeral and passing. It intimately details how the entire village comes together for Ragu and Indan's rights. It takes a village literally. Literally. In this traditional setting, The village is not just a geographical location on a map. It is portrayed as a living, breathing social organism. And the review notes that the traditional pyre requires physical wood. It requires building a fire. It requires intense physical labor. And it demands time. I think the text says 13 to 17 days of continuous rituals. Yes, up to 17 days. And that demand for time and labor is exactly the point. It is. Yes. The traditional ritual forces the community to physically stop their individual lives. The burden of the funeral, the grief, the cost, the sheer labor of it is distributed among the entire community. That's shared. Exactly. The review explicitly notes that during this time, the village actively ignores its usual rigid cast lines. Oh, really? Yes. Everyone has a mandated necessary role. Right. From the Brahmin priests chanting the mantras to there's a specific character mentioned, Chitan, who is a member of the Dalit Domcast And his role is absolutely essential in providing the fire for the pyre. Wow. It's an entire ecosystem of grief. It is. The novel seems to suggest that while the city offers this frictionless efficiency, the village offers true shared humanity. The traditional way is undeniably burdensome. I mean, it takes weeks, it's exhausting, it's expensive, but that very burden is exactly the glue that binds the community together. Yes, the shared burden is the glue. If you remove the burden with a fast electric crematorium, you remove the glue. Trisely. And this intense fear of losing that communal bond, of losing the social glue, it ties directly into another piece in the journal. Which piece is that? It is a highly-passioned, almost agonizing essay by Mooney Cammatt, titled Katha Jara Hall Chee Hum, which translates to Where Are We Going? Ah, yes. Cammett's piece is raw. She isn't just debating the abstract philosophical values of city versus village like we just were, she is writing about tangible, terrifying physical and moral destruction. She is very direct. Very. She points to rapid deforestation, the literal destruction of the environment driven by human greed and so-called development. But more horrifyingly, she writes extensively about an epidemic of violence against women. Yes. She points out a terrifying inversion of societal roles that she sees occurring as these traditional morals decay. What kind of inversion? Well, in a functioning society, there are archetypes of protection, right? Yeah. Fathers, brothers, and teachers are traditionally fundamentally viewed as the protectors of the vulnerable. Right. That's the social contract. Exactly. But Kamat writes about the horrifying modern reality where these very protectors are actively becoming the abusers. Yeah. She writes this line that just stops you in your tracks. She says, a brother has become a butcher and a father has taken the form of sin. It is incredibly dark. It is. She asks the reader, how can we possibly build a clean modern society with such dirty feet? If we synthesize Kamat's essay with the novel Javan Moran, we see a deeply unified theme running through the consciousness of this entire journal. Right. There is a profound existential anxiety that- But you know it is important to remember that literature isn't just a eulogy. No, not at all. It isn't just about mourning the past. It's also a tool for envisioning and demanding a fairer future. Which brings us to a really fascinating historical essay in the journal by Dr. Arun Kumar Singh. Ah yes. Social harmony in post-independence Mithili stories. Exactly. Dr. Singh's essay is absolutely crucial here because it provides the vital historical context for literally everything we have discussed so far. Okay. Lay out the history for us. He traces the long evolution of Mithili literature. Historically, going back centuries, Methili literature was heavily influenced by Sanskrit and Bengali traditions. Okay. And because of those influences, the literature primarily focused on elite aristocratic themes. The protagonists of the stories and poems were high-cast individuals, wealthy landowners, or, you know, mythical figures from the Grand Ethics. Right. Kings and gods. Exactly. The daily grinding concerns of the common people, the laborers, the lower castes. They were largely absent from the formal written text. But then, Dr. Singh notes, post-Independence India brings this massive seismic shift in the literature. Yes, a complete paradigm shift. He points to a new wave of writers who emerged. He names figures like The Lyle, Raj Kamal, Sam Dev, Ramanaan Renu, and notably Subhash Chandra Yadav. Yes. Subhash Chandra Yadav, the very author we saw, being defended in that angry editorial right at the beginning of our deep dive. Full circle. So these writers completely shifted the lens. They stopped looking at the palaces and started looking at the fields. They started writing about the marginalized, the exploited, the working class, and the Dalit communities. And this shift introduces the core concept of Dr. Singh's entire essay, Samarasata. Samarasata. Yes, it translates roughly to social harmony. But it is vital to understand that in the context of this specific literary movement, Samarasata isn't just about a passive, quiet peace where everyone just blindly accepts their lot in life. It's not just everyone get along. No, it is an active radical concept. It means actively giving a platform of voice and visibility to those who are historically denied one. Dr. Singh mentions specific stories as turning points for this, right? He does. He cites Lalit's story Ramjani, which he calls an absolute masterpiece for its unflinching exposure of feudal abuses. And he mentions some dev stories that depict the painful reality of the lower classes with this deep, unprecedented intimacy, the literature transformed from just entertainment for the elite into a tool for actual social visibility. Exactly. It was about moving away from class conflict by forcing the literary establishment to actually acknowledge the humanity and the reality of the marginalized. Yes. The art became a mechanism for demanding structural change in society. And this evolution perfectly connects back to the bitter literary politics we discussed right at the start of our deep dive. Right. I was just thinking that because there is a glaring contradiction here and I really want to push back on it. Go for it. If Dr. Singh is right, if the literature itself has spent the last 50 years becoming progressively more inclusive, focusing on the marginalized and fighting for this radical Samarasata, why are the institutions behind the literature still allegedly stuck in in vicious, caste-based gatekeeping. It's the million dollar question. Right. If the art is so progressive, why is the editorial by Gajendra Thakur screaming about paper organizations and block monographs and black marketing? It's a brilliant observation and it highlights the fundamental friction between the art of a culture and the industry that governs that art. They're two different things. Very different. The writers, people like Lalit or Suhashtra under Yadav, they are pushing the boundaries on the page. They are exploring the lives of the marginalized and advocating for a new social harmony. But the institutions, the academies that distribute the funding, that publish the official monographs, that hand out the awards and define the canon, they're still, at least according to the editorial, controlled by the old guard. They are controlled by individuals who historically held the power back when the literature was only about the elite. So the fight over an award isn't just about ego or wanting a trophy. It's a fight over the definition of progress. Exactly. The fight is over who actually gets to define what social harmony looks like. Is Samarasada defined by the traditional elites maintaining a polite, undisturbed order? Right. Or is it defined by the new, sometimes angry voices demanding structural change and equality? Wow. The friction occurs and it boils over into those wild emails about WikiLeaks and the gutter because the literature is evolving significantly faster than the institutions governing it. The art is in the 21st century, but the bureaucracy is struggling to leave the 19th. That is perfectly stated. That is such a fascinating tension. The operating system of the culture is being completely rewritten by the authors, but the old institutional hardware is struggling to run it. I love that analogy. Well, speaking of operating systems, that actually brings us to the final, and honestly perhaps most technically fascinating part of the journal for me. The language laboratory. Yes. The technical language debate. because amidst all the politics, the social transitions, the debates over modernity, there is this intense laser-like focus on the actual granular mechanics of the Methyli language itself. Right. The journal dedicates a very significant amount of space to a fierce debate over education, specifically advocating for higher education to be conducted in the mother tongue. The author references guidelines from the University Grants Commission regarding PhDs. They cite rulings from the Mumbai High Court, allowing native languages to be used in public service interviews, and they even point to demands made by public figures like Baba Ramdev regarding language rights. The core argument they make here is fascinating because it's about cognitive processes, not just cultural pride. Yes, it's about how the brain actually works. The text argues that the mother tongue is a person's first language of thought. It is the language your brain uses to process reality. So if you are forced to learn advanced complex concepts like quantum physics or advanced macroeconomics in a secondary language like English, your brain is constantly running a translation program in the background. Exactly. You lose cognitive efficiency. You lose the deep, intuitive connection to the material because you are expending mental energy just decoding the vocabulary words rather than grasping the core concept. Exactly. The source provides a really fantastic thought experiment regarding technology and language to illustrate this. Oh, the telephone example. Yes. It states that if the telephone had been invented in India, the very first word spoken across it wouldn't have been hello. Right. Because technology is imported, the vocabulary to describe that technology is imported with it. And the journal argues that this creates a severe, almost insurmountable barrier to native language adoption in the sciences. It's a huge problem. If a language doesn't actively develop its own technical and scientific vocabulary, if it just defaults to using English words for every single new invention, it becomes relegated entirely to the domestic sphere. That is the ultimate danger of linguistic stagnation. If Mathili doesn't have words for microchips or algorithms or frankly electric crematoriums, it ceases to be a language of progress. It just gets left behind. It becomes a language used only for poetry, for folklore, for kitchen conversations with your grandparents. Meanwhile, English or Hindi becomes the exclusive language of the future, of science, of ambition. The journal is arguing that for a language to truly survive, it must be able to describe the future, not just the past. Which means the language risks becoming a museum exhibit rather than a living tool. But if we are going to talk about the language being used for poetry, we absolutely have to talk about Ashish Anshunhar's guide to writing Ghazals in Mithili. Oh, we do. This was, without a doubt, the most mind-bending, unexpected part of the journal for me. I always thought of poetry as this, like, free-flowing emotional expression of the soul. Yeah, most people do. But the guide presented here, this is mathematics, this is pure engineering. It is highly, highly technical. A Ghazal, just for some quick context, is a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets and a refrain. Okay. It originated in Arabic poetry, but was deeply adapted into Persian, Urdu, and eventually various South Asian languages, including Nathalie. And Ankenhar's guide in the journal breaks down the absolute unyielding rigidity required to write a true, structurally sound gazale in Nathalie. Let's unpack these rules for the listener, because they are intense. First, you have the concept of the radif. The radif, yes. This is the word, or sometimes a short phrase, that must be repeated at the exact end of every single line in the couplet throughout the entire poem. Correct. The Radif is the anchor of the poem. But the real terrifying complexity for a poet lies in the kafia. The kafia. The kafia is the rhyming word that comes immediately preceding the Radif. And the guide makes it clear that it's not just about finding words that sort of sound alike, like a loose rhyme and a pop song. No, there is no close enough. The rules for the kafia are incredibly strict. It is about matching vowels sounds perfectly Let me give the exact example from the text before it if your kafia ends in the consonant G and The vowel preceding that G is an a like in the word rag Then every single kafia in the entire gazelle must match that exact a plus G phonetic structure Yes, you can use words like tag or bag or jog. Okay, that sounds easy enough But, and this is the kicker, you absolutely cannot use a word where the internal vowel changes, even slightly, even if it ends in G. Oh wow. The guide goes into deep phonetic alision. It explains the rules for what happens when you drop an E or Y sound in the Thilley pronunciation and how that specific drop directly impacts the legality of the kuffia. It's like grammar police on steroids. It even dictates the strict guidelines on using an amusfar, which is the nasal dot used in the written script versus using a Panchamaksha, which is the specific fifth nasal consonant of a phonetic class. That is so specific. The poet must maintain absolute flawless consistency in these microscopic phonetic details. The level of discipline required is staggering. If I can use another analogy here, it is exactly like a complex mathematical algorithm or writing a piece of software code. Yes, it is. In code, if you miss one variable, if you forget one semi colon or if you accidentally swap an A for an E in line 14, the entire program crashes. It just won't run. It breaks. According to Anshunhar's guide, the gazelle is exactly the same. If you mess up the internal vowel of the kafia in the sixth stanza, the poem doesn't just sound a bit clunky, it is structurally invalid. The program crashes. What is truly beautiful about this rigidity though, especially when you view it in the context of the entire journal, is what it demands of the writer. What do you mean? Think about everything we have discussed today. The Mayfield Society is changing at breakneck speed. Families are fracturing in the cities, villages are modernizing, electric crematoriums are replacing pires, political battles are raging over awards and cannons, everything is in a state of absolute flux. But the linguistic rules of the Gazal, they remain absolute. They're completely unyielding. To write a successful Gazal, the poet cannot just rely on passion or raw emotion. They must possess total mathematical mastery of their mother tongue. It forces preservation through discipline. Exactly. It shows that a language isn't just a casual means of communication. It is a profound architectural structure of thought. The gazal forces the poet to preserve the phonetic purity of the language, acting as a bulwark against linguistic decay. It's incredible. You have this language that is literally fighting for its life in the modern world, fighting for space and university classrooms, fighting against the tide of important, English technical vocabulary, but within the walls of a gazelle. Yes. Within the gazelle it is pristine. It is perfect, controlled, and completely unyielding. It is a sanctuary of structure amidst the chaos of transition. Man. Okay. We have covered an immense amount of ground today. Let's take a breath and just recap the sweeping journey we've been on through the pages of Vidae Sedea 12. It has been a long journey. We started in the bitter combative trenches of literary politics, right? Looking at explosive allegations of caste-based gatekeeping, blocked monographs, and the fierce fight over who gets to define the cultural canon through institutions like the Sahita Academy. And from there, we saw the vital international celebration of the language across the border at the Nepalese presidential palace. Right, the seven books. And we explored the crucial work of pioneers like Manipodma who preserved oral folk deities by bravely writing them into the formal literary record. Then we dove deep into the psychological transitions of modernizing families in Sujikumarsha's short stories. We watched traditional roles fracture and reform in the city, from pinkies subverting the wronged woman trope to the isolated sick father abandoned for a modern holiday. Such a powerful contrast. And we contrasted that urban isolation with the deep anxieties over moral decay and the loss of communal bonds in the village, which was perfectly symbolized by the intense debate over the efficiency of the electric crematorium versus the heavy, shared human burden of the traditional funeral pyre. We also examined the evolution of the literature itself with Dr. Singh, moving from elite aristocratic concerns to actively giving a voice to the marginalized in the radical pursuit of samar sada, or social harmony. And finally, we explored the language laboratories seeing how Mathili struggles to adopt scientific vocabulary while simultaneously preserving its brilliant structural beauty in the incredibly rigid mathematical coding of the gazelle. It truly is a comprehensive stunning portrait of a culture in active, passionate transition. It really is. And it leaves me with one final thought to ponder, bringing us right back to where we started. What's that? Today we saw how a language fights to survive. through messy vitriolic politics, through heart-wrenching stories of social change, and through strict, unbreakable poetic rules. But if a culture's language is the operating system of its people, the invisible code that dictates how they perceive reality, what happens when the youth no longer know the code? That is the question. Will the mythilli of the future be perfectly preserved, frozen in the rigid mathematics of beautiful gazelles? Or will it have to fundamentally break its own rules to survive the cold, fast efficiency of the electric crematoriums of the modern world. That is the existential question every ancient language must answer as it faces the future. Something for all of us to mull over. Thank you for joining us and remember to keep diving deep.

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