Reliving the memories of an Indian forester: Memoir of S Shyam Sunder retold by Shiv Someshwar

The book The Gandhi Cap and Other Short Stories offers a glimpse into the lifetime of work of a forgotten pioneer of Hindi fiction, Raja Radhikaraman Prasad Sinha. It is ironic that one cannot find a single book by this author who was so dedicated to Hindi literature. The stories in this collection are a testament not only to the contributions of Sinha to Hindi fiction but also, reflect the depth of political and social milieu of the times. Many readers will be moved by the elements patriotism, feminism, secularism, and spiritualism in these stories. Strong female characters are common in most of these stories. These characters provide both a moral fulcrum to the stories as well as reflect the struggle of women to balance prevailing customs with modernity. Some of these stories provide sharp political and social commentary that still have currency (The Gandhi Cap). Sinha incorporates a unique style of writing that uses lyrical prose and poetry together. He even employs a dialogue between the storyteller and a social gathering in the form of an epilogue, to offer a discourse on social dilemma about women?s plight to become modern while admonishing them to retain their Indian essence (An Expensive Bargain). We hope the readers will enjoy this wonderful collection.

Konkani Roman Catholic Christians were converted from other groups by Goan Missionaries long back, keeping the caste system tradition to a large extent in layers such as the Bamonn, the Charodi, the Gawdi, the Nendar, the Shudra, etc. At the time of marriages and other social gatherings they continue to consider caste system norms and customs in the community. Caste system in Indian Christians is vividly described in the novel Bamonn. Christopher Pai of Kalyanpura hails from a Bamonn family and takes great pride in his ancestry. He believes in the stories about his Konkani Roman Catholic ancestors from his elders and about their being true Christians, holding on to their faith despite tremendous pressure to convert to Islam during Tipu Sultan?s regime. He also believes Bamonns are superior to other Christians in the community. After retiring from his job of a Headmaster, he refuels his obsession to retrace his roots and find out the truth about his ancestors. In his journey of self-assurance and faith, will he succeed in his mission to convince his family, his children and the community at large of his glorious ancestry and in still pride in the next generation? . . .

With a captivating start, A Handful of Sesame plunges us into the heart of the dying years of the 1857 mutiny. But the mutiny is largely a backdrop to the novel. When Kamalanabh of Kashi is manipulated by an impoverished Brahmin of Navalgund into marrying his daughter, the novel becomes basically the story of an internal migration. This is rare, and it remains one of the strengths of the novel. We are so used to speaking of migration across the postcolonial bridge and accredited national borders that we forget that India is a country of endless internal migrations – in the past and the present.