जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवल साहित्याचं जागतिकीकरण

जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवल साहित्याचं जागतिकीकरण 

(An article published in Maharastra Times - 22 Jan. 2012)

follow this link:- maharashtratimes.indiatimes.com/articleshow/11580808.cms

विशाल तायडे

सध्या सुरू असलेला 'जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवल' हा साहित्यिक आणि पुस्तकप्रेमींच्या आकर्षणाचा विषय असतो. यंदा तो सलमान रश्दींच्या तिथे येण्या - न येण्याने गाजला. या फेस्टिवलच्या निमित्ताने अशा पुस्तक मेळ्यांनी निर्माण केलेल्या संस्कृतीविषयी -

जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवल मध्ये मी आणि जे. एम. कोएत्झी 

                                                                गेल्या वषीर्च्या जानेवारीतील ही घटना आहे. जयपूरच्या मध्यवस्तीतलं एक हॉटेल. 'हॉटेल डिग्गी पॅलेस' त्याचं नाव. त्याच्या मुख्य गेटसमोर फुटपाथावर मी उभा होतो. सकाळचे अकरा वाजले असावेत. सूर्य हळूहळू माथ्याकडे वळत होता. मात्र वातावरणातला थंडीचा कडाका कायम होता. उन्हातून दूर जायला मन तयार होत नव्हतं. याच डिग्गी पॅलेसमध्ये 'जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवल' आयोजित करण्यात आलं होतं - सगळं उत्साहपूर्ण वातावरण, येणाऱ्या-जाणाऱ्यांची लगबग. ते सगळं न्याहाळत मी उभा होतो. डिग्गी पॅलेसलाही चांगलचं सजवलेलं होतं. (पूवीर्च्या डिग्गी संस्थानच्या ठाकूरांची ही हवेली, १८६०मध्ये बांधलेली, जिचं रूपांतर आता हॉटेलमध्ये झालंय.) इथे येणाऱ्यांमध्ये पर्यटक, रसिक वाचक, साहित्यिक, प्रकाशक, एजंट, पुस्तक विक्रेते असे सगळेच होते.

                       काही वेळाने माझ्यापासून थोड्या अंतरावरच रस्त्यावर एक रिक्षा थांबली. रिक्षातून एक उतारवयातलं परदेशी जोडपं उतरलं. सहजच माझी नजर त्याच्यावर पडली आणि त्यातल्या म्हातारबाबावर खिळली. चेहरा ओळखीचा वाटत होता. साधारण सत्तरीचं वय, सडपातळ देहयष्टी, खांद्यावर लटकणारी एक छोटीशी बॅग आणि उत्सुकतेने आजूबाजूचा परिसर न्याहाळणारी भिरभिरती नजर. कोण असावेत बरं हे महाशय? मी अंदाज बांधत होतो. क्षणाक्षणाला माझी उत्सुकता वाढत होती, पण नक्की लक्षात येत नव्हतं. शेवटी न राहावून मी त्यांच्याजवळ गेलो. एव्हाना स्वारी फुटपाथावरून डिग्गी पॅलेसकडे चालायला लागली होती. त्यांच्या गळ्यात फेस्टिवलने पुरविलेलं ओळखपत्र होतं. त्यावर नाव लिहिलेलं होतं, जॉन कोएत्झी! आश्चर्याचा सुखद धक्का बसला - ज्यांना आतापर्यंत केवळ वर्तमानपत्रातील फोटोत पाहिलं होतं आणि जमलंच तर त्यांना भेटण्यासाठी म्हणून इथं जयपूरला आलो होतो, ते दोन वेळा बुकर आणि नोबेल पुरस्कारावर आपलं नाव कोरणारे 'जे. एम. कोएत्झी'. इतक्या सहज जयपूरच्या फुटपाथावर भेटावेत!

                                             जागतिक साहित्य वर्तुळात आपल्या अबोलपणासाठी प्रसिद्ध असलेल्या कोएत्झींना मी स्वत:ची ओळख करून देताना, 'मी तुमची 'डिसग्रेस' कादंबरी मराठीत अनुवादित केली आहे', असं सांगितल्यावर ते तिथे फुटपाथवरच माझ्याशी खुलून बोलायला लागले आणि तिथेच माझ्यासोबत फोटोही काढून घेण्याची त्यांनी तयारी दाखविली. आपल्या टोकदार लेखणीने एकेकाळी द. आफ्रिकेतील वंशभेदी सरकारला घाम फोडणारा हा लेखक किती साधा, सरळ आणि मृदु स्वभावाचा वाटत होता!

                                                   सन २००६ पासून दरवषीर् जानेवारीच्या शेवटी जयपूरमध्ये हे साहित्य संमेलन रंगतंय(जे 'जयपूर लिट फेस्ट' म्हणूनही प्रसिद्ध आहे). अवघ्या काही वर्षात या संमेलनाने आंतरराष्ट्रीय पातळीवर आपलं स्थान निर्माण केलेलं आहे. पहिल्या संमेलनाला १०० प्रेक्षक आणि १८ साहित्यिक उपस्थित होते. त्या १०० जणांमध्येही बरेचसे जयपूर पाहायला आलेले पर्यटक होते, जे फिरत-फिरत चुकून संमेलनस्थळी पोहोचले होते, असं या संमेलनाचे एक संयोजक विल्यम डेर्लम्परल सांगतात. संमेलनाच्या सहाव्या वर्षातच म्हणजे २०११ साली ५००००हून अधिक साहित्यप्रेमींनी या संमेलनाला भेट दिली आणि जगभरातून २२५ साहित्यिक विविध सत्रांमधील कार्यक्रमांना उपस्थित राहिले! हे नोंद घेण्यासारखं आहे.

                                               जयपूर लिटररी फेस्टिवलसारखे साहित्य मेळावे जगभरात विविध ठिकाणी होत आहेत. त्यांना भरभरून प्रतिसादही मिळतो आहे. त्यात फ्रँकफर्ट पुस्तक मेळा, बलिर्न आंतरराष्ट्रीय साहित्य संमेलन, इस्तंबूल लिटररी फेस्टिवल, कराची लिटरेचर फेस्टिवल, पॅलेस्टाईन फेस्टिवल ऑफ लिटरेचर, प्राग रायटर्स फेस्टिवल, सिंगापूर रायटर्स फेस्टिवल, व्हेनिस लिटररी फेस्टिवल अशी अनेक नावं सांगता येतील. पुस्तकांना आणि लेखकांना प्रसिद्धी देण्याचं व्यावहारिक गणित जरी या सगळ्या प्रयत्नांमागे असलं, तरी एरव्ही केवळ पुस्तकांतूनच माहित होणारे जागतिक साहित्यिक या निमित्ताने साहित्यप्रेमींना जवळून पाहता येतात, ऐकता येतात ही एक जमेची बाजू म्हणावी लागेल.

                                               भारतातही जयपूरशिवाय मुंबई, कोलकाता, कोची, हैदाबाद, नवी दिल्ली अशा काही ठिकाणी आंतरराष्ट्रीय दर्जाचे लेखक - पुस्तक मेळावे भरायला लागले आहेत. ज्यात जगभरातल्या नामांकित लेखकांना आवर्जून बोलावण्यात येतं आणि अगदी नियोजनबद्ध रितीने पुस्तकांना प्रसिद्धीही दिली जाते.

                                                  गेल्या काही वर्षात एक व्यवसाय म्हणून पुस्तक व्यवहाराने खऱ्या अर्थाने कात टाकली आहे. एखाद्या आंतरराष्ट्रीय दर्जाच्या क्रिकेट सामन्याचं आयोजन व्हावं तसं आयोजन या लिटररी फेस्टिवलचं होत आहे. उदाहरणच सांगायचं झालं, तर यावषीर्चं 'जयपूर लिट फेस्ट' २० ते २४ जाने. दरम्यान होत आहे. बड्या बड्या कापोर्रेट कंपन्यांनी त्याचं प्रायोजकत्व आणि सहप्रायोजकत्व स्वीकारलं आहे. जयपूरचं हे संमेलन सर्वच बाबतीत उजवं आहे. केलेल्या नियोजनाची शिस्तबद्ध अंमलबजावणी वाखाणण्याजोगी आहेे. यावषीर् विविध विषयांवरील एकूण १३५ सत्रं या संमेलनात होणार आहेत.

                                           एक इंडस्ट्री म्हणूनही पुस्तक व्यवहाराचं क्षितीज विस्तारत आहे, मात्र या विस्तारणाऱ्या क्षितिजात प्रादेशिक भाषांचं स्थान कुठे आहे, याचाही विचार या निमित्तानं होणं आवश्यक वाटतं. आज अनुवाद प्रक्रियेला मोठ्या प्रमाणावर चालना मिळाली आहे, हे वारंवार मोठ्या कौतुकानं सांगितलं जातं, मात्र हे आदान-प्रदान समपातळीवर व्हायला हवं. प्रादेशिक भाषांतील दजेर्दार साहित्य इतर भाषांत अनुवादित होण्यासाठी या आंतरराष्ट्रीय व्यासपीठांचा मुत्सद्दीपणे वापर करायला हवा.

                                                    एक वाचक किंवा प्रादेशिक भाषेतील लेखक म्हणून अशा संमेलनांना भेटी दिल्याने आपल्याही जाणिवा विस्तारत जातात, दृष्टिकोण व्यापक होत जातो. अशा संधीचा फायदा घेऊन जागतिक दर्जाच्या साहित्यिकांना आपल्या मनात रेंगाळत असलेले प्रश्न विचारता येतात, त्यांच्याशी चर्चा करता येते. हा आनंदच काही और असतवाचककेंदी दृष्टिकोण ठेवून ही लेखक मंडळी स्वत:चं किती व्यवस्थित माकेर्टिंग करतात, थोड्या वेळामध्ये स्वत:ला, स्वत:च्या साहित्याला जास्तीत-जास्त मांडण्याचा कसा प्रयत्न करतात, हे या निमित्ताने अनुभवता आलं-येतं. कसदार लेखनासोबतच आजच्या जागतिकीकरणाच्या युगात लेखकाकडे हे 'इनपुटस्' असणंही तितकंच आवश्यक ठरतंय, हेही या निमित्तानं ठळकपणे जाणवलं.

                                      या संदर्भाने आणखी आठवण सांगायची झाली तर, जयपूर संमेलनात मला ब्रिटिश कादंबरीकार जीन फ्रेझची मुलाखत घेता आली. मी पत्रकार नसतानाही अनेक आंतरराष्ट्रीय साहित्य पुरस्कार मिळविणाऱ्या या लेखकाने अगदी आनंदाने मला सविस्तर मुलाखत दिली. आणि ही मुलाखत कुठे-कुठे देता येईल, हेही स्वत:च सांगून टाकलं, किंवा नोबेल पुरस्कार विजेत्या ओरहान पामुकना त्यांची मी अनुवादित केलेली 'स्नो' कादंबरी दाखवल्यावर त्यांनी ते पुस्तक हातात घेतलं आणि एखाद्या नवख्या लेखकाला व्हावा, तसा आनंद त्यांच्या चेहऱ्यावर मला पाहायला मिळाला.

                                                           आजच्या जागतिकीकरणाच्या युगात साहित्याला एक उत्तम 'प्रॉडक्ट' म्हणून बाजारात कसं आणता येईल, याचा विचार केला जातोय. 'किंडल'च्या माध्यमातून आजवर हजारो पुस्तकं 'ऑनलाईन' झालेली आहेत. आता अख्खं पुस्तक न वाचता केवळ ते कानात हेडफोन लावून ऐकायचं, ही 'टॉकिंग बुक्स'ची कल्पनाही रुजते आहे. या लिटररी फेस्टिवल्समधून हे काळानुरूप विषय चचिर्ले जातात, वाचकांसमोर तितक्याच समर्थपणे मांडले जातात व त्यांची मतंही आजमावली जातात.

                                                       या झपाट्याने विस्तारणाऱ्या साहित्य अवकाशामध्ये प्रादेशिक लेखकांनीही आपलं स्थान निर्माण करणं आवश्यक आहे. वेगाने व्यापक होत असलेल्या मानवी जाणिवा प्रादेशिक साहित्यातून व्यक्त व्हायला हव्यात हे जितकं खरं आहे, तितकंच ते राष्ट्रीय-आंतरराष्ट्रीय समुदायासमोर मांडण्याचं तंत्रही अवगत करून घेणं ही देखील काळाची गरज आहे. यासाठी आपल्या साहित्य संमेलनांमधून काही प्रयत्न करता येतील का? काही नवे पायंडे पाडता येतील का? या शक्यता तपासून पाहायला हव्यात.

That half an hour.....

                                          Feb.14,a day of pleasure and enjoyment. People enjoy and cheer up with their love and celebrate Valentine. But ,for me, this Valentine was not as usual.

                                          It was 11.30 A.M. I was having my regular lunch and soon I realised that my doll, my love i not around. My two and half year old daughter was suddenly disappeared. Initially, I thought she would be playing nearby, because she would never go outside alone. So, I asked Mavshi, her care taker to find her out and kept continue to watch TV and enjoying food. But Mavshi returned empty handed and that made up shocked. Because, it was first experience when Mavshi couldn’t bring her back.

                                             At the same time, I left my launch and came out to search my daughter, Saee, her name. I nearly forget to wash my hands and drink water. The news of her disappearance spread like a wildfire in my neighbourhood. People gathered and fruitless discussion started. Some kind-hearted tried their level best to find her. Two school going girls brought their bicycle in search of my kid.

                                            My restlessness was increasing with every passing moment. Somebody asked me to inform police and suddenly, I felt my eyes drenched. What a pathetic moment is this? Should my doll search by police?or may be I can find her as soon as possible? Many questions knocking my brain, which were unanswerable. With out wearing any cloths on my body, I moved out to search her at every possible place. But in vein. She was any where. My sweetie was just disappeared. Callous mind started working negatively. It moved  me by reminding many incidences of kids kidnapping.

                                               Entire scenario was serious, every passing moment was increasing tension and all the people, specially women gathered there, were expressing their concern, that made me more worried.Everybody was suggesting to me to do this and that. Till then,every place where she possibly can go was searched out.

                                                More than half an hour was passed, but we were failed to get even s single clue of her whereabouts. In the some state of mind I rushed towards main road. And what a great sight I had! Just, some meters away I saw my doll. Shabby, feared and on the verge of cry Saee was coming back with one girl.”Oh dear!” I said and run towards her. Finally, I got my lost angel. I had picked her up and brought close to my heart

                                                  Now, it was a moment of celebration to me My Velentine was settled safely in my arms. I asked her-‘Beta, where did you go ?’, with out knowing the seriousness of the situation, she said, ‘I was going to see my Mama who has gone for duty....’

Translating Mandela.........

Presently, I’m working on a book, by and about Nelson Mandela, a living legend of Africa. A person no need of any further introduction. It’s really a unique book that has very large span. It focuses on the life of Nelson Mandela as well as the development process of South Africa as a free nation. ‘Confession with Myself’, the title of the book, explores many aspects of Mandela’s life. Here, he appears, primarily, as a person rather than a politician. His struggle against colonization in Africa is a part of widely known history, but his growth and development as a father of nation to his country, is really worth to know.

The book has not typical biographical structure. It is a compilation of letters, speeches, interviews, pages from his personal diaries, comments by others, some unknown moments of anger and happiness in his life, his limitations as a man, his love for his people, and, of course, the path he adopted- a Gandhian path of Satyagraha.



Devastating experiences could not move him from his goal. Twenty-seven years long prison could not kill his thrust for freedom. Finally, he, Nelson Mandela emerged as a nation builder. His homeland, South-Africa, became an independent nation. He was the first president of free South-Africa. He was the modal for entire Africa continent; most of the countries of Africa were struggling for their independence. One of the most important features of this book is that Mandela himself had shared a lot from his personal things which was yet unknown to the world. His relationships with his family, his friends, his colleagues others are explored here.

When I was asked by my publisher, Mr. Saket Bhand about to translate ‘Confession with Myself” into Marathi, I was not very sure to do it, but when I just gone through the book and found it astonishing. Within few moments, I my intuition forced me to response affirmatively.

Within few months, this book has touched every nuke of the world. I am informed that, the process of translating the book in more than thirty languages of the world is going on. U.S. President Barak Obama’s article on Mandela is one of the important aspects of this book.

Let’s see how it works in regional languages. Because, I heard that it is appearing in five to six Indian languages soon.

Welcome back....

Hi, We are here together after a long time.Never mind, we will keep this meeting without interruption in future.
Recently, I was in Jaipur, to attend a mega literary event - Jaipur literary festival. Great experience !! Here, I could meet masters like J.M.Coetzee and Orhan Pamuk, whom I brought into Marathi. It was an eye opener event for me that give broader view of literature with its every aspect.
 I will write on it in detail.....

I Am Vidya.........

अक्षरवाटा


प्रत्येक सोमवारी मी 'अक्षरवाटा' मधून वेगवेगळ्या पुस्तकांमधील एक चांगला आणि मला आवडलेला विचार पाठवते. मराठी भाषेचे जतन आणि संवर्धन या दृष्टिकोनातून राबवला जाणारा हा उपक्रम आपल्यालाही आवडेल ही अपेक्षा.

आपल्या प्रतिसादाच्या अपेक्षेत

शुभदा रानडे-पटवर्धन

shubhadey@gmail.com / ranshubha@gmail.com

ही सूचना या मांदियाळीत नव्याने सामिल होणा-यांसाठी आहे.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

आय ऍम (सर्वानन) विद्या

लिव्हिंग स्माईल विद्या

अनुवाद : डॉ.विशाल तायडे

साकेत प्रकाशन, पृष्ठे : १५८, मूल्य : १५० रुपये



निर्वाण! किती दिवसापासून मी याची वाट पाहात होते. त्यासाठी मला मानहानीही सहन करावी लागली होती. माझा आत्मसन्मान, माझं स्वत्वं, माझा राग तर जणू मला माझ्या या स्वप्नासाठी गहाणच टाकावा लागला होता. प्रसंगी मी रस्त्यावर भीकही मागितली होती. त्यामुळे साहजिकच आजच्या रात्री मला झोप येणं शक्यच नव्हतं. विचारांच्या तंद्रीतच पहाट झाली. माझा उत्साह आणखी वाढला. रात्रभर जागी असूनही मला मरगळल्यासारखं वाटत नव्हतं. मग मी फेरीवाल्याकडून कॉफी घेतली. सुगंधी आयानेच मला बजावून सांगितलं होतं की निर्वाणाच्या आधी फक्त पेय पदार्थच घ्यावेत.



हा माझ्या आयुष्यातला सर्वात महत्वाचा दिवस होता. कुडाप्पा रेल्वे स्टेशनवर गाडी थांबताच प्रचंड गर्दीतून वाट काढत आम्ही बाहेर आलो. ऑटोरिक्षावाले तर जसे आमची वाटच पाहात टपून बसले होते. आम्हा चौघींना बघताच त्यातले बरेचसे आमच्या आजूबाजूला गोळा झाले. तो २६ एप्रिलचा दिवस होता.



कुठे जायचय? नागण्णा की बापण्णा? रिक्षावाल्यांमध्ये जणू आमच्यासाठी स्पर्धाच लागली होती.



"पण आया, यांना कसं माहीत की, आपण या दोन डॉक्टरांपैकी एकाकडे जाण्यासाठी आलो आहोत? " मला अजूनही रिक्षावाल्यांच्या प्रश्नाचे आश्चर्य वाटत होते. त्यावर नागाराणी हसत म्हणाली, ह्यांचं सोड. अग बाई, इथं तर नुकतच जन्मलेलं मूलही सांगू शकेल की, कुडाप्पाला आपल्यासारखे फक्त ऑपरेशनला येतात ते!"



एकदाचे आम्ही कुडाप्पाला पोचलो होतो. मी फार आनंदी होते. दवाखान्याजवळ आल्यानंतर रिक्षाने वेग कमी केला. आम्ही उतरून दवाखान्याकडे निघालो. दवाखाना रस्त्याच्या उजव्या बाजूला होता. हा मुख्य रस्ता नसला तरी रस्त्यावर बरीच गर्दी होती. बाजूलाच एक सिनेमा थिएटरही होतं. तिथं चंद्रमुखी सिनेमा चालू होता. दवाखान्यात बरीच गर्दी होती. दवाखान्यातल्या एका कर्मचा-यानं सुगंधी आयाला ओळखलं आणि तो पुढे झाला. आया इथं नेहेमी येत असावी. मग त्या कर्मचा-याशी तेलगूत काही तरी बोलत आया आम्हाला आत घेऊन गेली. त्यानं आम्हाला एका खोलीत बसवलं. त्या खोलीत तीन पलंग होते. त्यांच्यावर गादी किंवा चटई असं काहीही अंथरलेलं नव्हतं. खोलीतच एक लहानशी बाथरूम होती. त्यात एक पाण्याची बादली ठेवलेली दिसत होती. ही खोली खास लिंगबदल ऑपरेशन केलेल्यांसाठी राखीव असल्याचं दिसत होतं. ऑपरेशन थिएटर बघून तर मला धक्काच बसला. कसलं ते ऑपरेशन थिएटर? ही लहानशी, घाणेरडी खोली तर कत्तलखान्यापेक्षा वेगळी नसावी. त्या खोलीत एकच पलंग टाकलेला होता. त्याच्या शेजारी एक डॉक्टर बसलेला होता. त्याचा चेहरा पूर्णपणे झाकलेला होता. त्याचे फक्त डोळे चमकत होते. तो बराच म्हातारा असावा. खोलीत आणखी एक माणूस आणि एक बाईही होती. ते सहायक असावेत. त्यांच्याशिवाय एकही माणूस तिथं थांबू शकेल, इतकीही जागा तिथं नव्हती.



त्या सहायक कर्मचा-यांनी माझा स्कर्ट काढला आणि मला पलंगावर झोपायला सांगितलं. मी फार गोंधळलेले होते... काही सुचत नव्हतं... छातीची धडधड वाढली होती. पण त्यांच्यासाठी हे नवं नव्हतं. ते सगळेच अगदी सहजपणे आपल्या हालचाली करत होते. मला लहान लेकरासारखं अंग दुमडून झोपायला सांगितलं. लगेचच डॉक्टरने माझ्या पाठीच्या मणक्यात एक इंजेक्शन दिलं. मला फार वेदना होत होत्या. मात्र त्याची तिथं कुणाला पर्वा नव्हती. मी त्यांना पूर्ण सहकार्य करत होते. काही महिन्यांपूर्वीच सेनबेगमचं इथं ऑपरेशन झालं होतं. तिने मला ऑपरेशनची पूर्ण माहिती दिली होती. पाठीवर मणक्यात दिलेल्या इंजेक्शनमुळे कंबरेखालचा भाग बधिर होतो, हे तिचं वाक्य मला लगेच आठवलं. पण मनाची तयारी असल्यामुळे मला त्याची भीती वाटली नाही. फक्त एकदाच जेव्हा डॉक्टरने माझ्या पोटावर चाकू चालवला, तेव्हा वेदनेची कळ उठली. म्हणजे शरीराला पूर्ण बधिरता आलेली नाही, मी ताडलं. मग पुन्हा मला बधिरतेचं इंजेक्शन देण्यात आलं. वेदनेची लहर पुन्हा शरीरातून धावत गेली. मी हालचाल करण्याचा प्रयत्न केला; पण हातपाय हलत नव्हते. मला हळूहळू ग्लानी येत होती. तरीही डॉक्टरांच्या हालचाली मला स्पष्टपणे दिसत होत्या आणि वेदनेची ठसठसही चालूच होती. आता मला अक्षरश: तिथून लांब पळून जावसं वाटत होतं. किती या असह्य वेदना! पण या निर्दयी लोकांना त्याची काहीच पर्वा नव्हती. या निर्दयी डॉक्टरला आणि त्याच्या सहका-यांना मारूनच टाकायला हवं. पण आता त्यांच्या तावडीतून सुटका होणं शक्यच नव्हतं. मग मला आयानं सांगितलेली युक्ती आठवली. मी पुन्हा मनातल्या मनात माता... माता... माता... असा घोष सुरू केला. डॉक्टरांच्या हातातला चाकू माझ्या शरीराच्या अगदी आतपर्यंत शिरत असल्याचं जाणवत होतं. पाठोपाठ माझ्या तोंडून आर्त किंकाळ्या बाहेर पडत होत्या. त्याक्षणी मी माझा मृत्यू पाहिला. अखेर माझा अवयव माझ्यापासून वेगळा झाला होता. माझ्या शरीरापासून तोडलेला माझ्याच शरीराचा एक भाग. माझ्या डोळ्यातून आपोआप अश्रू वाहात होते...



नंतर माझी जखम शिवून टाकण्यात आली. मी शांतपणे सगळं बघत होते. वेदनेनं सगळं शरीर ठणकत असलं तरी एक वेगळाच आनंद मी अनुभवत होते. शेवटी माझं स्वप्नं साकार झालं होतं... माझं निर्वाण यशस्वीपणे पूर्ण झालेलं होतं.



आजचा दिवस माझ्यासाठी काही औरच होता. मी खूप समाधानी होते. मी आता एक स्त्री झाले होते. एक पूर्ण स्त्री. शरीरावर आता पुरुषत्वाच्या खुणा उरलेल्या नव्हत्या. मन अगदी भरून पावलं होतं.



अचानक मला माझ्या कुटुंबियांची आठवण झाली. अम्मा, मी आज एक स्त्री झालेय. मी आता सर्वानन राहिलेले नाही. मी विद्या झालेय. राधा, मी आता तुझा भाऊ राहिलेलो नाही. माझ्याकडे बघा ना अप्पा. आपली मुलगी म्हणून मला स्वीकार करा.



फक्त मी आणि मीच माझ्या हृदयाचं किंचाळणं ऐकू शकत होते...



---------------------------------------------------------------------------

एखाद्या लिंगबदल केलेल्या व्यक्तीला किंवा तिरुनानगाईला सहन कराव्या लागतात, त्या सगळ्या अडचणीतून विद्या गेलेली आहे. मात्र स्वसामर्थ्यावर तिनं स्वत:ला घडवलं. विद्याने भाषाशास्त्रात पदव्युत्तर पदवी मिळवली. तिला समकालीन नाट्य आणि चित्रपट क्षेत्रात खूप रस आहे. मदुराई आणि पुण्यात कित्येक वर्ष संघर्षात काढल्यानंतर सध्या ती चेन्नईत पीडित लोकांसाठी झटणा-या स्वयंसेवी संस्थेत कार्यरत आहे.

I Am Vidya- An autobiography of a transgender

I am Vidya : A transgender autobiography




- Dr.Vishal Tayade







Man and Woman are two defined genres of human being. To run this world, both are equally important. There are impotents, natures another creation, have their own limitations, as per as productivity is concern.

Nature has assigned man and woman their genetical role and society has lined its boundaries. Thousands of years have been passed, society never permits them to work against its conservative structure, and whenever somebody dares to fight social norms, social hostility becomes his fate.





pages:144, Rs.:100/-, New Horizon Media.

I am Vidya is an autobiography which presents a life-sketch of a transgender who fought against traditional social norms, suffered a lot of pain, but finally acquired her own ness i.e. womanhood.

Sarvanan(birth-name of Vidya) is a boy who always believe that he is not a male but a person having female soul. As the time passes, his self never allow him to survive as a male, and finally, Sarvanan transforms himself as a Vidya.

This is an outline of an autobiography I am Vidya, originally written in Tamil, the mother-tongue of Vidya, and translated into many languages, like English and Marathi.

The book is a daring of Vidya to express herself honestly, without showing any pang for society. She is tortured by the most of the people she met during the course of her transformation. Though, some kind-hearted people love her, express sympathy and gave courage to do so. But, most of the conservative minds shocked to learn her decision of changing sex.

Society doesn’t accept transgenders whole-heartedly. In the era of the explosion of human rights, transgenders are still facing all types of social cruelties. There are number of superstitions continue in people about transgenders. They have their own norms , rules and regulations to live. They have their own social pattern of survival. Hateful behaviour is the common phenomenon with all transgenders.

Vidya is highly qualified transgender, though,she had experienced tremendous insecurity and feeling of rootless ness which caused mental fatigue to her many times. The condition of other transgenders is worst than her.

The book divides into many chapters. It opens very dramatically and runs with flash-back technique of narration. Sarvanan is the only son in his family. He has sisters but he is considered the only hope by his parents. His father,Appa is quite whimsical kind of person. He loves Sarvanan heartily, but when the issue of study occurs, he becomes very strict, and beats him mercilessly. Such experiences are described very pathetically in this book.

Since childhood, Saravnan finds that he likes to behave as a girl, and he observes that it gives him immense pleasure. Gradually, people noticed the change in his behaviour. Sarvanan never cares for that. He experiences many insulting occasions in his school and collage. His family, friends, teachers everyone try to convince him but in vain. He decides to change his sex and becomes woman.Thats really dramatic journey of Sarvanan to become Vidya which is worth to read.

Chennai based transgender Living Smile Vidya has written this widely talked autobiography who is continuously fighting in the benefit of all transgenders. While presenting her life, Vidya has raised some important issues related to transgenders. Being a citizen of democratic country, transgenders are not able to enjoy their fundamental rights, law is not sufficient to protect them, and common people have no sympathy to them.

Emotionally power-packed an autobiography takes reader to a life which is, generally, unknown to all of us.

Short-story published in The Sacret Attic Magazine (U.K.) Issue Oct.2008.

INNOCENT SIN

---Vishal Tayade

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




Drawing the circle on the ground with forefinger, Sonu challenged his alley. He gave a look throughout the area but no one was there to play with him. Undoubtedly, he was an undefeated master of the marble game. Seven-year old Sonu’s skill in the game was the subject of respect for all playmates. When short, chubby and fair complexioned Sonu used to stand on the playing field, nobody dared play against him. Playing against him meant losing marbles definitely and increasing his personal stock.
Many times, with great generosity, he used to lend some marble to other neighbouring lads on the basis of playing against him and the result was certain. Half of the alley was debtor to him and many had been declared of their bankruptcy. Sonu was firm on the view that he was heavenly gifted and God himself played through his hand.
He always noticed that Temporary visitors used to come to his hut. However, he was forced to play outside, particularly, because his hut had more visitors than others. About this, Sonu asked his elder friend of twelve and received information that his mother was very beautiful and young than others and doing a profitable business. But what business, he couldn’t understand. He had a grandmother, old woman of fifty. Suffering from some or other ailment. She had also great business in the past, once he learnt from somebody, one thing of which he felt proud that his grand mother, mother and he all were on the top in their own field.
Even once, a visitor told him ‘had Sonu been a girl, he should have been doing great business and visitors would have been attending her with huge amount.’ Sonu couldn’t understand the matter entirely. That man further said ‘he had been visiting his hut for last twenty years but because of Sonu’s manhood’ he had lost further opportunity to visit Sonu’s three generations respectively,’ All was confusing to Sonu, but he felt sorry on his manhood for a while, for losing the chance of receiving great number of visitors like his grandmother and mother.
At evening, Sonu and his friends used to occupy marble ground, all had had a photograph of their own mother in their shirts pockets. Permanent visitors didn’t take their help and directly entered the hut they desired. But the problem of selection was for the newcomers, and keeping an eye on detecting such newcomers, they moved around such a person to show their mothers’ photo each one after another. Generally , it was experienced that Sonu’s mother was selected. Her selection was also proud some to his grandmother.


One late night, after visitors over, Sonu was on his mother’s lap in their hut. He asked unexpectedly: ’why do all these people come to you by paying money?’
Mother shuddered for a while. Having some long breathe, she answered with a deep kiss on his forehead, Sonu, my son! All these uncles have borrowed money from me as you lend your marbles to your friends and now they come to return that.’ This was convincible answer to him. It was a predetermined answer as she was fully aware that, sooner or later, she would have to face this question by him. Sonu closed his eyes, asked no more questions and held his mother tightly.
At the one edge of the hut, grand mother was lying on a shabby carpet. Though not very old by age, due to perpetual sickness and neglecting constant medical supervision, the wrinkled face made her older. Continuous moaning at night was as natural as breathing to her. She retired from the business as her ailment and Sonu’s mother grew up in parallel.
Some time later, Sonu got up with huge screaming outside. Mother said, ‘May be the police raid!’ and within some moments, their door started being knocked with lewd abuse. As soon as his mother opened the door, she received a powerful slap on her face. She suddenly collapsed on the floor. A hale and hearty cop entered into the hut pressing his chocolaty shoe into her thigh.
First time, Sonu didn’t like this colour. Abusing and cursing in highly insulting language, the tall policeman seemed to be an officer. He crackled, ’you witch, last time I warned you not to cheat us. We are rightly informed about your ever flourishing business, though your money doesn’t reach at us regularly. You have deceived our goodness.’ He completed the sentence with a powerful kick at her back.
At the left side, moaning was no more; fear blocked the throat of grand mother. She, deliberately appearing like dead body, tried to hide her presence.
Sonu had already experienced all these things in the past. Mother brought out some money from her blouse and gave it to the cop. He picked up her palm and demanded more money verbally and crushing her frail palm physically. It was looking like a small fish in the mouth of a big crocodile. Grandmother understood his intention and got up slowly and asked crying Sonu to come outside. Frightened Sonu was completely frozen by what was happening to his mother. He hadn’t moved from bed. But the crooked glance of the cop at him made his trouser wet. Somehow, grandmother picked him up and near about dragged outside. Drenched eyes of mother helplessly stared at Sonu. He only cried,’Ma’ with deep sorrow. It brought out flood of tears in her eyes.
As soon as they went outside, the cop shut the door with his chocolaty shoe. It was a regular practice in the alley. The cops visited every month or two, demanded more money apart from their regular hafta , and then enjoyed ladies, particularly Sonu’s mother was their head choice.
Outside the hut, there was a big hue and cry continued. Cops lewd language, victims helpless screaming mixed up and highly unknowing language brought out. Under the street-light, the police van was waiting for culprits. Five policemen were engaged in their duties. Humiliation, threatening, slapping, snatching were on its high point.
Some three women were being already thrown into the van mercilessly. A policeman was abusing and beating a woman for spreading immorality over society, already, snatching money from her and suddenly, the alley was stunned by the ear-breaking squealing. Sonu’s hut was thrilled, leaving the work in hand uncompleted, all cop’s fled towards the hut. With a powerful kick, the door was opened and the scene appeared was so shivering to all. The tall policeman, the head, was tossing about the floor, completely sprawled in the small pond of blood. Sonu’s mother stood in corner with an edged knife in hand, dripping with wet, staring at body with meaningless eyes. For a couple of moments, the cops couldn’t understand what to do?
A cop came forward and screamed, ‘You witch, what have you done?’
Realizing this incident would change her entire universe, she, hadn’t decided yet whether she could or couldn’t answer for this crime. After some time, the mother murmured- ‘I punished, I punished this devil. Besides me, he was trying to snatch all my savings which is only for my son Sonu,’ and then she cried, ‘Sonu, my son, where are you?’ and sat shabbily. A tin-box, full of money lay on the floor beside the body. Some notes were just floating in thick blood.
Grabbing her plaits and kicking mercilessly, the cop dragged her outside the hut like a dead animal. Sonu picked her hand up and tried to hug her but in vain. He also received powerful slap at ear. The little kid near about losing his conscience collapsed at his grandmother’s feet. Mother was thrown into the van being beaten continuously.



One month later, except the absence of the mother, everything was as usual in the alley. Sonu’s tears went dried, only abruptly, he sobs into the bed.
At the same time, people observed the drastic change in the grandmother. Consuming highly concentrated drags, she was trying to kill her diseases. Punctual medical inspection made her condition better than earlier. Rubbing of shampoos, advertised by cinema heroine made her hair glow and visits to beauty parlours brought shine on her face. Perfumes made her skin more fragrant than before. She spruced herself regularly. On the whole, she started looking ten years younger than earlier.
Now grandmother didn’t remain the then grandmother apparently. She presumed that her golden age returned. Beautifying herself, she challenged other ladies around and within some days, she became the favourite subject of discussion among the people .Her maladies showed their presence now and then, but her will power suppressed its annoyance.
On the other hand, Sonu by the passing of time forgot the presence of his mother. Some times, he recollected the memories of his mother and wept. But his grandmother was doing her level best to keep him happy and calm. Twice he went to see his mother in jail along with his grandmother. But later on, she avoided carrying him there.
Sonu, again, started to show his high competence in the game of marble. Within a few days, he regained his autocracy. People in the market, again, fondled him with sympathy. He used to spend hours and hours on his favourite marble ground. His school bag shook all marble masters in the area.
Everything was going as usual. Nothing was changed. The only change, people observed, was that instead of his mother’s photograph in his pocket, his grandmother’s photo occupied the place.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------