The Link Between Man to God

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

VERY INTERESTING CONVERSATION (Pls read til the end :)) ENJOY!!

An Atheist Professor of Philosophy was speaking to ...his Class on the Problem Science has

with GOD, the ALMIGHTY. He asked one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .
...
Professor : You are a Christian, aren't you, son ?

Student : Yes, sir.

Professor: So, you Believe in GOD ?

Student : Absolutely, sir.

Professor: Is GOD Good ?

Student : Sure.

Professor: Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL ?

Student : Yes.

Professor: My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to GOD to Heal him.

Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill.

But GOD didn't. How is this GOD good then? Hmm?

(Student was silent )

Professor: You can't answer, can you ? Let's start again, Young Fella.

Is GOD Good?

Student : Yes.

Professor: Is Satan good ?

Student : No.

Professor: Where does Satan come from ?

Student : From . . . GOD . . .

Professor: That's right. Tell me son, is there evil in this World?

Student : Yes.

Professor: Evil is everywhere, isn't it ? And GOD did make everything. Correct?

Student : Yes.

Professor: So who created evil ?

(Student did not answer)

Professor: Is there Sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness?

All these terrible things exist in the World, don't they?

Student : Yes, sir.

Professor: So, who Created them ?

(Student had no answer)

Professor: Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you.

Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD?

Student : No, sir.

Professor: Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD?

Student : No , sir.

Professor: Have you ever Felt your GOD, Tasted your GOD, Smelt your GOD?

Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter?

Student : No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.

Professor: Yet you still Believe in HIM?

Student : Yes.

Professor : According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol,

Science says your GOD doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?

Student : Nothing. I only have my Faith.

Professor: Yes,Faith. And that is the Problem Science has.

Student : Professor, is there such a thing as Heat?

Professor: Yes.

Student : And is there such a thing as Cold?

Professor: Yes.

Student : No, sir. There isn't.

(The Lecture Theatre became very quiet with this turn of events )

Student : Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat,

a Little Heat or No Heat.

But we don't have anything called Cold.

We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is No Heat, but we can't go any further after that.

There is no such thing as Cold.

Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat.

We cannot Measure Cold.

Heat is Energy.

Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.

(There was Pin-Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre )

Student : What about Darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as Darkness?

Professor: Yes. What is Night if there isn't Darkness?

Student : You're wrong again, sir.

Darkness is the Absence of Something

You can have Low Light, Normal Light, Bright Light, Flashing Light . . .

But if you have No Light constantly, you have nothing and its called Darkness, isn't it?

In reality, Darkness isn't.

If it is, were you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn't you?

Professor: So what is the point you are making, Young Man ?

Student : Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is flawed.

Professor: Flawed ? Can you explain how?

Student : Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality.

You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD.

You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure.

Sir, Science can't even explain a Thought.

It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.

To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact that

Death cannot exist as a Substantive Thing.

Death is Not the Opposite of Life: just the Absence of it.

Now tell me, Professor, do you teach your Students that they evolved from a Monkey?

Professor: If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.

Student : Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir?

(The Professor shook his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument was going )

Student : Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work and

Cannot even prove that this Process is an On-Going Endeavor,

Are you not teaching your Opinion, sir?

Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher?

(The Class was in Uproar )

Student : Is there anyone in the Class who has ever seen the Professor's Brain?

(The Class broke out into Laughter )

Student : Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor's Brain, Felt it, touched or Smelt it? . . .

No one appears to have done so.

So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol,

Science says that You have No Brain, sir.

With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?

(The Room was Silent. The Professor stared at the Student, his face unfathomable)

Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on Faith, son.

Student : That is it sir . . . Exactly !

The Link between Man & GOD is FAITH.

That is all that Keeps Things Alive and Moving.

*************************************************

I believe you have enjoyed the conversation, and if so,

you'll probably want your friends/colleagues to enjoy the same. Won't you?

Forward them to increase their knowledge, or FAITH.

That student was Albert Einstein. :)

Singaporean Fiction

Friday, March 25, 2011

Fiction writing in English did not start in earnest until after independence. Short stories flourished as a literary form, the novel arrived much later. Goh Poh Seng remains a pioneer in writing novels well before many of the later generation, with titles like If We Dream Too Long (1972) – widely recognised as the first true Singaporean novel – and A Dance of Moths (1995).

Beginning as a short story writer, Penang-born Catherine Lim has been Singapore's most widely read author, thanks partly to her first two books of short stories, Little Ironies: Stories of Singapore (1978) and Or Else, The Lightning God and Other Stories (1980). These two books were incorporated as texts for the GCE 'O' Levels. Lim's themes of Asian male chauvinistic gender-dominance mark her as a distant cousin to Asian-American writers such as Amy Tan. She has also been writing novels, such as The Bondmaid (1998) and Following the Wrong God Home (2001), and publishing them to an international audience since the late 1990s.

Han May is the pseudonym of Joan Hon who is better known for her non-fiction books. Her science-fiction romance Star Sapphire (1985) won a High Commendation Award from the Book Development Council of Singapore in 1986, the same year when she was also awarded a Commendation prize for her better-known book Relatively Speaking on her family and childhood memories.

Rex Shelley hails from an earlier colonial generation, although he began publishing only in the early 1990s. A Eurasian, his first novel The Shrimp People (1991) examines the regional Eurasian community and their experience in Singapore. The book won a National Book Prize. His three other novels, People of the Pear Tree (1993), Island in the Centre (1995) and River of Roses (1998) all examine similar themes of the Eurasian community in the Southeast Asia region. He has won the S.E.A. Write Award in 2007.

Haresh Sharma is a playwright who has written more than fifty plays that have been staged all over the world, including Singapore, Melbourne, Glasgow, Birmingham, Cairo and London.[1] In May 2010, his highly acclaimed play Those Who Can't, Teach was published in book form by the independent publisher Epigram Books.

Su-Chen Christine Lim's works consider varied themes surrounding issues of gender, immigration and orthodoxy. In 1993, her novel, Fistful of Colours, was awarded the first Singapore Literature Prize. Her other novels take up the relationship between the Malays and Chinese immigrants in colonial Malaya, and the issue of land (A Bit of Earth).

Gopal Baratham, a neurosurgeon, started as a short story writer and later wrote politically-charged works like A Candle or the Sun (1991) and Sayang (1991), which courted some controversy when they were first published.

Jean Tay is an economist-turned-playwright. Her play Everything but the Brain won the Best Original Script at The Straits Times' Life! Theatre Awards in 2006. Two of her plays, Everything but the Brain and Boom, were published in book form by the Singapore-based independent publisher Epigram Books.

Augustine Goh Sin Tub who began his writing career writing in Malay, burst on the literary scene after his retirement with more than a dozen books of short stories, most of which were founded on his own personal history, thus making them part fiction and part non-fiction. Works like One Singapore and its two sequels One Singapore 2 and One Singapore 3 have found fans among the different strata of Singapore society and well acclaimed by all.

Around this time, younger writers emerged. Claire Tham and Ovidia Yu wrote short stories, while playwright Stella Kon put forth her lesser-known science-fiction novel, Eston (1995). Of the younger generation, Philip Jeyaretnam has shown promise but has not published a new novel since Abraham's Promise (1995). His first two books, First Loves (1987) and Raffles Place Ragtime (1988), were bestsellers in Singapore.

Kelvin Tan, a musician and playwright, has been sporadically in sight, publishing the works All Broken Up and Dancing (1992) and the Nethe(r);R (2001). Colin Cheong can perhaps lay claim to being one of Singapore's most prolific contemporary authors, releasing three novels, one novella, two short story collections, and dozens of non-fictional works thus far. He won the Singapore Literature Prize in 1996 for his travel diary-like novel Tangerine. Daren Shiau's Heartland (1999) traces an eighteen-year-old's rites of passage from junior college through to enlistment and thereafter. The novel has been selected to be a set text at secondary school level.

Hwee Hwee Tan graduated with a First Class Honours from the University of East Anglia, and a Masters from Oxford University. She grew up in Singapore and in the Netherlands, and her cosmopolitan experience can be readily seen in her novels. Her snazzy, humorous prose can be read in Foreign Bodies (1997) and Mammon Inc. (2001), both published by Penguin Books. Simon Tay, currently the chairperson of Singapore Institute of International Affairs and a former nominated Member of Parliament, has a short story collection and a novel under his belt. These are Stand Alone (1991) and City of Small Blessings (2009).

Singaporean Drama

Drama in English found expression in Goh Poh Seng, who was also a notable poet and novelist, in Robert Yeo, author of 6 plays, and in Kuo Pao Kun, who also wrote in Chinese, sometimes translating his works into English. The late Kuo was a vital force in the local theatre renaissance in the 1980s and 1990s. He was the artistic director of The Substation for many years. Some of his plays, like The Coffin is Too Big for the Hole (1984) and Lao Jiu (1990), have been now considered classics. Stella Kon gained international fame with her now-famous play Emily of Emerald Hill: a monologue. About an ageing Peranakan matriarch, it has been produced in Scotland, Malaysia and Australia. The sole character has been played by men as well as women.

Story For Children

Children's literature in Singapore has gained momentum in recent years due to increased interest in the genre generated by the First Time Writers and Illustrators Initiative which discovered acclaimed writers such as *Adeline Foo The Diary of Amos Lee, *Jin Pyn The Elephant and the Tree, and *Emily Lim Prince Bear and Pauper Bear.*Jessie Wee, one of the pioneers of children's literature, rereleased her popular Mooty Mouse series with Marshall Cavendish in 2009. According to the National Library Board, other prominent and prolific children's authors include Patricia Maria Tan, Chia Hearn Chek, Ho MinFong and Bessie Chua.

Poetry in Singapore

Poetry
Singaporean literature in English started with the Straits-born Chinese community in the colonial era; it is unclear which was the first work of literature in English published in Singapore, but there is evidence of Singapore literature published as early as the 1830s. The first notable Singaporean work of poetry in English is possibly F.M.S.R., a pastiche of T. S. Eliot by Francis P. Ng, published in London in 1935. This was followed by Wang Gungwu's Pulse in 1950.

With the independence of Singapore in 1965, a new wave of Singapore writing emerged, led by Edwin Thumboo, Arthur Yap, Robert Yeo, Goh Poh Seng, Lee Tzu Pheng and Chandran Nair. It is telling that many critical essays on Singapore literature name Thumboo's generation, rightly or wrongly, as the first generation of Singapore writers. Poetry is the predominant mode of expression; it has a small but respectable following since independence, and most published works of Singapore writing in English have been in poetry.

There were varying levels of activity in succeeding decades, with poets in the late 1980s and early 1990s including Simon Tay, Leong Liew Geok, Koh Buck Song, Heng Siok Tian and Ho Poh Fun. In the late 1990s, poetry in English in Singapore found a new momentum with a whole new generation of poets born around or after 1965 now actively writing and publishing, not only in Singapore but also internationally. Since the late-1990s, local small presses such as Firstfruits and Ethos Books have been actively promoting the works of this new wave of poets. Some of the more notable include Boey Kim Cheng, Yong Shu Hoong, Alvin Pang, Cyril Wong, Felix Cheong and Alfian bin Sa'at (also a playwright). The poetry of this younger generation is often politically aware, transnational and cosmopolitan, yet frequently presents their intensely focused, self-questioning and highly individualised perspectives of Singaporean life, society and culture. Some poets have been labeled Confessional for their personalised writing, often dealing with intimate issues such as sexuality.

Cambodian Literature

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Module no. 9: Cambodian Literature

Posted by: Beverly Abelon

Sources: http://en.wikipedia.org

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Cambodian or Khmer literature has a very ancient origin. Like most Southeast Asian national literatures its traditional corpus has two distinct aspects or levels:

The written literature, mostly restricted to the royal courts or the Buddhist monasteries.

The oral literature, which is based on local folklore. It is heavily influenced by Buddhism, the predominant religion, as well as by the Hindu epics Ramayana and Mahabharata.

Ancient stone inscriptions

A testimony of the antiquity of the Khmer language are the multitude of epigraphic inscriptions on stone. The first written proof that has allowed the history of the Khmer empire to be reconstructed are those inscriptions.

These writings on columns, stelae and walls throw light on the royal lineages, religious edicts, territorial conquests and internal organization of the kingdom.

Buddhist texts

Following the stone inscriptions, some of the oldest Khmer documents are translations and commentaries of the Pali Buddhist texts of the Tripitaka written in the Khmer script.

These texts were written with stencils by the monks on palmyra palm leaves. They were kept in various monasteries throughout the country and many did not escape the destruction of the Khmer Rouge.

Reamker

The Reamker or Ram Ker (Rama's fame) is the Cambodian version of the Ramayana, the famous Indian epic. The Reamker comes in rhymed verses and is staged in sections that are adapted to Cambodian dance movements interpreted by local artists.

The Reamker is the oldest form of Cambodian theatre. The Robam Sovann Maccha - a certain dance from the Reamker about Hanuman and Suvannamaccha, the golden mermaid, is one of the most renowned pieces of classical dance in Cambodia.

Court literature

King Thommaracha II (1629–1634) wrote a poem directed to the Khmer young generation which is still a well loved traditional piece of poetry.

King Ang Duong (1841–1860) is known in Khmer literature for being not only a king but a famous classical writer in prose. His novel Kakey or Ka key (from the Sanskrit word for a "female crow"), is inspired in a Jataka tale and has elements of regional folktales. It narrates the story about a woman that is unfaithful to her husband and ends up being punished by him for her betrayal. It contains specific moral lessons that were used in texts in Cambodian schools. Kakey social norms were traditionally taught to high-born young Khmer girls and the story's values have cultural relevance even in present times.

Another work by Ang Duong, also probably inspired in an ancient legend, is Puthisen Neang Kong Rey, a novel about a faithful wife ready to sacrifice her life for her husband. Khmer poets and songwriters have used the words "Kakey" for a woman who is unfaithful to her man and "Neang Kong Rey" for a very faithful woman.

Popular legends

Vorvong & Sorvong Tale illustration. Khmer 19th century drawing.

Cambodia had a rich and varied traditional oral literature. There are many legends, tales and songs of very ancient origin that were not put into writing until the 19th and 20th centuries and that until then had been memorized and told for generations.

Many of these tales borrow features and plots from the Indian epics Ramayana and the Mahabharata, as well as from the Buddhist Jataka tales. They also often show Siamese influence.

The oral-tradition legends were often extremely long stories in rhyming verses. Their heroes were mostly princes and supernatural beings and the scenarios were often connected to the palaces and the monasteries. One important purpose of these legends and stories handed down for centuries, was to transmit norms and values. Most stories emphasize the peaceful resolution of conflicts. References to geographical landmarks and the meanings of the names of Cambodian locations were also transmitted through the traditional tales.

One of the most representative of these tales was the story of Vorvong and Sorvong, a long story of the Khmer oral tradition about two Khmer princes that fell into disgrace, but after a series of ordeals regained their status. Vorvong and Sorvong was first put into writing by Auguste Pavie as "Vorvong and Saurivong"; this French civil servant claimed that he had obtained the folk legend version he wrote down from a certain "Old Uncle Nip" in Somrontong District. This story was put into writing in Battambang.

There are two hills in Kirirom National Park, Phnom Sruoch District, Kampong Speu Province, named after the two heroic princely brothers, Vorvong and Sorvong.

Another Khmer folktale with a local mountain as a reference is Puthisan Neang Kong Rei.

In 2006 the Vorvong and Sorvong story was enacted in dance form by the Royal Ballet of Cambodia.

Tum Teav is a classic tragic love story set in Kampong Cham that has been told throughout the country since at least mid 19th century. It is based on 17th or 18th century poem of uncertain origin, probably having originated in a more ancient Cambodian folk legend. Nowadays Tum Teav has oral, literary, theatre, and film versions in Khmer. Although its first translation in French had been made by Étienne Aymonier already in 1880, Tum Teav was popularized abroad when writer George Chigas translated the 1915 literary version by the venerable Buddhist monk Preah Botumthera Som or Padumatthera Som, known also as Som.

Modern literature

The era of French domination brought about a requestioning of the role of the literature in Cambodia. The first book in the Khmer script in a modern printing press was printed in Pnom Penh in 1908. It was a classical text on wisdom, "The recommendations of Old Mas", published under the auspices of Adhémard Leclère.

The influence of French-promoted modern school education in Cambodia would produce a generation of novelists in the Khmer language beginning in the early decades of the 20th century. These new writers would write in prose, illustrating themes of average Khmer people, set against scenarios of ordinary Cambodian life.

The clean break with the ancient Indian and Siamese influence was not abrupt. Some of the first modern Cambodian literary works keep the influences of the versified traditional literature, like the 1911 novel Dik ram phka ram (The Dancing Water and the Dancing Flower), Tum Teav (1915) by the venerable Som, the 1900 work Bimba bilap (Bimba's Lamentation) by female novelist Sou Seth, or even Dav Ek by Nou Kan, which appeared in 1942.

Assessment:

1. What is the big contribution of buddhism to cambodian literature?

2. What is the popular legend in Cambodia?

3. Give atleast one writer during King Ang Duong era.

Taiwan Literature

Module no. 8: Taiwan Literature

Posted by: Beverly Abelon

Sources: 

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Literature of Taiwan refers to the literature published in or particular to Taiwan. As mainland China and Taiwan share a written language of Chinese and much of the Chinese cultural heritage, literature in Taiwan is largely similar to the literature in mainland China. The literature taught in Taiwanese schools is classic and modern Chinese literature with some local works. However, due to political sensitivities, literature relating to politics on mainland China or communism was banned until the 1980s.

The Taiwanese literature movement (also Taiwan literature movement, Nativist literature movement) refers to the effort of authors, poets, dramatists, musicians, and publishers in Taiwan to establish recognition of a distinctly Taiwanese body of literature. The movement was the subject of considerable international as well as domestic debate in the 1970s and 1980s.

"If You Would Ask"  by Lee Min-yung

If you ask

 Who is the father of the island of Taiwan

 I will tell you

 The sky is the father of the island of Taiwan

 If you ask

 Who is the mother of the island of Taiwan

 I will tell you

 The ocean is the mother of the island of Taiwan

 If you ask

 What is the past of the island of Taiwan

 I will tell you

 Blood and tears drop on the feet of the history of Taiwan

 If you ask

 What is the present of the island of Taiwan

 I will tell you

 Corruption in power is eroding the Taiwanese soul

 If you ask

 What is the future of the island of Taiwan

 I will tell you

 Step out on your feet, the road is open to you.

(Translation: Joyce Huang)

Authors saw that much of the history and tradition of the island was being ignored or suppressed in government-sponsored education. In their work they sought to carry forward this distinct Taiwanese cultural identity that existed apart from the colonizing efforts of China and Japan. Just as their predecessors in the 1920s had incurred official sanction from the Imperial Japanese government then ruling the island, authors in this new movement worked against the bans imposed by the authoritarian Kuomintang regime and were targeted for criticism by the Communist government in China. The movement is closely associated with the emergence of Taiwan's democracy in the 1990s. Figures associated with the Taiwanese literature movement includes

 Lee Min-yung, Tseng Kuei-hi, Yang-Min Lin, Wu Ying-tao, Lin Chi-yang (pen name: Xiang Yang), Tyzen Hsiao (composer),Li Kuei-Hsien.

 Authors sought to gain acceptance for the Taiwanese Hokkien language along with other languages encountered on the island (aboriginal languages and Hakka). These, the mother tongues of the majority of the island's natives, became in their hands the vehicles for serious literature, including essays, plays, and epic poetry. They made the island itself the center of their perspective on history and looked to local traditions and lore as fuel for creative ideas.

Assessment:

Give your own opinion with regard to the literary culture of Taiwan and China.

Thailand Literature

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Festival in ThailandModule no. 5: Thailand Literature

Posted by: Beverly Abelon

Sources: http://www.thailandgateway.com, http://www.earthportals.com/Portal_Messenger/The_Giant_Swing.pdf

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Festival in Thailand (Video)

Thai literature was traditionally heavily influenced by Indian culture. Thailand's national epic is a version of the Ramayana called the Ramakien. A number of versions of the epic were lost in the destruction of Ayutthaya in 1767. Three versions currently exist: one of these was prepared under the supervision (and partly written by) King Rama I. His son, Rama II, rewrote some parts for khon drama. The main differences from the original are an extended role for the monkey god Hanuman and the addition of a happy ending.

The most important poet in Thai literature was Sunthorn Phu, who is best known for his romantic adventure story Phra Aphai Mani and nine travel pieces called Nirats.

Kings Rama V and Rama VI were also writers, mainly of non-fiction works as part of their programme to combine Western knowledge with traditional Thai culture.

20th century Thai writers have tended to produce light fiction rather than literature, but the Isan region has produced two notably sociocritical writers in Khamsing Srinawk and Pira Sudham.

Thailand has had a wealth of expatriate writers in the 20th century as well. The Bangkok Writers Group is currently publishing fiction by Indian author G.Y. Gopinath, the fabulist A.D. Thompson, as well as non-fiction by Gary Dale Cearley.

The Giant Swing is one of Thailand’s most well known landmarks. What is 

less known about this historic landmark is its symbolic significance. It was 

Phra Phuttha Maha Mani Rattana Patimakon, (King Rama I) who installed 

the swing in the center of “Krung Rattanakosin In-Ayothaya” on April 21,  

1782 (Fig. 1.), the name that was given to the new capital after the fall of the 

400 year old capital city of Ayutthaya in 1767.

The city pillar (lak muang) was also an important installation linking the 

Indic linga cult associated with Lord Shiva. Both these installations (swing 

and pillar) were to establish the new city as the center of the universe similar 

to Lord Indra who occupied the center of the universe.  

From its origins in Ayutthaya, when the swing was presented as a gift by 

Brahamin priests to Phrachao Ramathibodi, eleventh King of Siam, (1491-

1529), it was used annually to honor the Hindu gods. In India the swing has 

been used for thousands of years with its early beginnings going back  to the aboriginal cultures which populated the Indian sub-continent long before the 

Hindu culture began. The swing has been used in fertility rites, religious 

rituals and as a symbol for the cosmological understanding of the universe 

and developed as a way to celebrate the beginnings of the New Year by 

cultures worldwide. 

Tamil Literature

Module no. 6: Tamil Literature

Posted by: Beverly Abelon

Source: http://www.squidoo.com/thirukural, http://schools-wikipedia.org/wp/l/Literature.htm

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Tamil literature has a rich and long literary tradition spanning more than 2000 years. Tolkaappiyam has been credited as the oldest work in Tamil available today. The history of Tamil literature follows the history of Tamil Nadu, closely following the social and political trends of various periods. The secular nature of the early Sangam poetry gave way to works of religious and didactic nature during the Middle Ages. Tirukkural is a fine example of such work on human behaviour and political morals. A wave of religious revival helped generate a great volume of literary output by Saivite and Vaishnavite authors. Jain and Buddhist authors during the medieval period and Muslim and European authors later also contributed to the growth of Tamil literature.

A revival of Tamil literature took place from the late 19th century when works of religious and philosophical nature were written in a style that made it easier for the common people to enjoy. Nationalist poets began to utilise the power of poetry in influencing the masses. Short stories and novels began to appear. The popularity of Tamil Cinema has also provided opportunities for modern Tamil poets to emerge.

The region of Tamil Nadu in modern India has been under continuous human habitation since prehistoric times, and the history of Tamil Nadu and the civilization of the Tamil people are among the oldest in the world. Throughout its history, spanning the early Paleolithic age to modern times, this region has coexisted with various external cultures. Except for relatively short periods in its history, the Tamil region has remained independent of external occupation.

The four ancient Tamil empires of Chera, Chola, Pandya and Pallava were of ancient origins. Together they ruled over this land with a unique culture and language, contributing to the growth of some of the oldest extant literature in the world. They had extensive maritime trade contacts with the Roman empire. These three dynasties were in constant struggle with each other vying for hegemony over the land. Invasion by the Kalabhras during the 3rd century disturbed the traditional order of the land by displacing the three ruling kingdoms. These occupiers were overthrown by the resurgence of the Pandyas and the Pallavas, who restored the traditional kingdoms. The Cholas, who re-emerged from obscurity in the 9th century by defeating the Pallavas and the Pandyas, rose to become a great power and extended their empire over the entire southern peninsula. At its height the Chola empire spanned almost 3,600,000 km² (1,389,968 sq mi) straddling the Bay of Bengal. The Chola navy held sway over the Sri Vijaya kingdom in Southeast Asia.

Thiru Kural of Tamil Nadu

Thiru Valluvar's, Thiru Kural has today come to be documented as a classic in the

 literature of the entire world. This poem consisting of 133 sections of 10 couplets each which was predictable as a masterpiece of ancient literature in Tamil in its own times, has stood the test of history and is established by posterity as a decisive work which has predisposed the thoughts of man throughout the centuries. It is not only of great artistic and stylistic literary value, but also a direct to the art of living with pieces of precious wisdom. Thirukkural's immortality and universality are indisputable. Its ethics and values are appropriate to all religions, nations and time. It has been interpreted in over 60 languages of the world.

Biography

Thiru Valluvar, the author of Thiru Kural, was not only a sage with the good of humankind at heart, a psychologist having deep imminent into the intricacies of human nature and a philosopher with an urge to restructuring. He is believed to have born 30 years earlier than Jesus Christ. Thiruvalluvar himself was one of those few eminent men who had their roots strongly in the history and culture of the Tamils of the Sangam Age, who had made his own religious and social knowledge that blew into Tamil Nadu, from outside the state and country in those days and in addition, had his own distinctive vision of the future. In Tamil Nadu, Tamil calendar is dated from that stage and referred as Thiruvalluvar Aandu (Year). It is however, a disappointment that we know so little about the Mastermind who authored the great work. What we know about him is that he existed in Mylapore which now forms a division of the city of Chennai and that he was a wedded man and a weaver by occupation.

Inner thought of his spirit and the depth of his integrated thinking surfaced the Kural, the ethical line of which is not clouded by code of belief or discrimination of any kind. We can find certain likeness between Valluvar's thought and those of Buddha, Mahaveera, Plato and Confucius, these are only reasonable absorptions by a successive thinker of ideas, of which he endorses from among those that have lead him or natural similarities in the working of great minds. But there are also basic differentiation and sizeable originality of thought and expression for ahead of his-own times, specifically in respect of his handling of Godliness, casteless society, importance of agriculture, taxation with peoples' consent and facilitate physical love. That is why Thiruvalluvar's Thirukural has continued to magnetize the world's best minds down the ages.

The utter plainness of his language, his crystal clear expressions, accurate and forceful, his brevity, his choice articulation, no less his inwardness, his learning, culture and wisdom, his catholicity and eclecticism, his gentle wittiness and wholesome counsel have made him an object of reverence for all time and his book is considered the Sacred of the Tamils.

Assessment

1. What is considered the "Sacred of the Tamils."

2. Whose the author of Thiru Kural?

3. What is the great contribution of the poem to the culture of Tamil?

Ghosts of Wan Chai
by Dean Francis Alfar

Even in despair, the need to buy something, to own something, is powerful. Some things are severed slowly over the course of days, weeks, months and years. There is nothing dramatic, no identifiable turning point that you can point to and say “There. That’s where everything went wrong”. Instead, there is this terrible dawning of insight, a dim epiphany that things are no longer as they were; that the person who you once cared for and believed cared for you no longer feels the same way; that everything that was once certain and true and irrefutable is now impossibly grey and has the consistency of smoke – as if everything that mattered was gathered surreptitiously, bit by bit so no one notices, then set fire to, and all you can see are the ashes in the air. You subject yourself to a barrage of questions beginning with: “Was it me?” and “What did I do or not do?” And of course there are no answers. Those who leave take the answers with them, packed in their suitcases, carryalls and branded shopping bags. In Hong Kong, some of those who are left behind wear grey.

When they begin to suspect that a leave-taking has taken place without consultation, explanation or rationale, they come to Tien Lo’s shop hidden behind an old bar perpetually marked for demotion off Lee Tung Street in Wan Chai, where everything for sale is grey. There they buy an article of clothing from the old man—a shawl, a sash, a hat, a blouse, a shirt, a tie, a pair of socks. The store always has customers, locals and expats and visitors both legal and illicit, shuffling around, picking things up, trying them on, looking in the full length mirror at themselves from head to toe, seeing if grey suits them, which it invariably does. Even in despair, the need to buy something, to own something, is powerful. Others left behind take to wearing beaded bracelets, thin and fine black leather straps with a small single object strung through. They buy the strings at Shakespeare Ng’s embroidery store near Spring Garden Lane where sixty years ago a notorious Communist underground cell network hoped to provoke change. They provide their own personal item of memory. Some carry miniaturized picture frames with blurry snapshots; some use pendants invested with sentiment—Filipino seamen landing at Fenwick Pier are especially guilty; others have metal dog tags etched with the name of the one who left them. And there are those who eschew grey attire or bracelets and walk the streets of Wan Chai like ghosts, unable or unwilling to sublimate the pain of the long goodbyes in any other form. They can be seen on any given day, tracing the paths they once walked with friends and lovers, tourists for a weekend or residents for life, counting each step in silence, their lips forming the shape of silent numbers. They are convinced that when they reach a certain digit they will at last understand exactly why they were left behind and perhaps finally come to accept their solitude. One of the most mysterious ghosts in Wan Chai is a Filipino domestic helper’s daughter. Everyday she describes the perimeter of her neighborhood with her feet, beginning just before dawn at the gates of her house, down to the Southorn Playground where she goes in circles, ignoring and mostly ignored by the laborers who rose with the sun, waiting for work; then down south to St. Francis School along Kennedy Road which she haunts in a perfect square pattern, stopping only when the distant cannon of Jardine Matheson marks the middle of the day. That is when she unfolds the napkin that contains her lunch, a thin mayonnaise sandwich or a bit of dried fish with rice, there on the balding grass next to the wire fence. Afterwards, she stands up to continue her routine, walking down the busy streets, oblivious to the delighted tourists who take digital pictures of her, with her, next to her. They smile and pose beside her as she walks, matching her footsteps, while one of their companions hurries to take the photograph. Her final stop, where she spends the rest of the day, is an alleyway next to the police headquarters along Arsenal Street in the west.

There, excepting only the inconvenience of black rain, she stands until the sun goes down, counting numbers over and over again quietly. In the shadow of the famous rock reputed to grant happy marriages, Noel de Mesa recites his sad and strange experience to anyone who cares to listen. Equally mystifying is Dr. R. of Jaffe Road, claimed by some to be the result of an amorous indiscretion of a certain visiting Philippine national hero years before his martyrdom. On the balcony of his apartment above a cha chan teng restaurant he sits in a sculpted metal chair, oblivious to the tumultuous orders of milk tea and dim sum below. The chair is shaped like a hand and he rests quietly in the hollow of its palm, an unlit cigarette between his quivering lips. His brown suit is always immaculate, pale yellow tie in place and a like-colored pocket square smarty tucked in. In his hands he holds a photograph, creased and worn by endless folding and unfolding, the image long since faded. The loss of the actual picture does not matter; he has long since committed it to memory. Flipiniana scholars who seek him out and try to talk to him leave with their curiosity unsated. Dr. R. never responds to queries. One of the ghosts who will tell his story at the slightest provocation can be found near Lovers' Rock near Shiu Fai Terrace.

In the shadow of the famous rock reputed to grant happy marriages, Noel de Mesa recites his sad and strange experience to anyone who cares to listen. In December of 1992, he and his beautiful bride Anna take a PAL flight from Manila to Hong Kong just hours after becoming man and wife, a growing tradition among middle class Filipinos for whom the temptation of honeymooning in the shopping capital of Asia—less than two hours away—is a formidable force. Finding their initial hotel of choice overbooked upon arrival, the slightly distressed but still happy couple eventually secure lodgings at a small three-star along Tai Yuen Street, amid the hustle and bustle of huckster stalls selling herbal medicine, silk garments and fried food. The concierge requests that they wait for a few hours until their room is available and the newlyweds comply. They leave their luggage at the hotel and begin to explore the city, braving the MTR Island Line to nearby Causeway Bay, hand-in-hand. At some point, Anna complains of a mild headache brought on by the excitement and tells Noel that she’s heading back to the hotel. Noel offers to take her back but Anna assures him that she’s fine, that it’s only an MTR ride away, that she certainly can find her way back, and he says and she says and he says but ultimately she gets her way and Noel gives her a kiss and says he’ll follow after he checks out the comic book shop along Sugar Street, which Anna wasn’t really interested in doing in the first place. A couple of hours later, purchases tucked under his arm, Noel returns to Tai Yuen Street, finds the hotel and waits for his turn at the front desk.

A little bit tired from walking but possessed of a newly married man’s desire to spend the evening with his new bride, he asks the man at the desk for his room key. The hotel employee checks his register and informs Noel that he is not booked in the hotel. Noel insists that he is, that, in fact, his wife Anna had returned to the hotel earlier, and points to the cordoned-off area in the lobby where the absence of their luggage can only mean that his wife is already in the room. The front desk checks again and tells him that there is no such person in the hotel. The manager gets involved as Noel makes a scene and, in both a breach of hotel protocol and in an attempt to calm him down, shows him the registry. Noel breaks down completely and the police are summoned. In the days and weeks of investigation that ensue, the hotel is cleared of suspicion based on the startling evidence from Immigration that Noel de Mesa arrived in Hong Kong alone. Anna, his phantom bride, is never heard from again and Noel becomes a resident ghost in Wan Chai. You moved on. Our last mutual act was walking away, apart, in different directions, crossing the silent gulf between dead small worlds and what you said were infinite possibilities. But while the reasons for leave-taking are opaque to most, it is crystal clear to some, and often it is not the causes but the reality of endings that matters. They, too, become ghosts because sorrow is a potent colonizer. A Filipino consultant working for a medium-sized design company along Lockhart Road left a final entry on his blog before jumping from the 33rd floor, his death accidentally captured by an amateur touring videographer and subsequently immortalized on YouTube: We read about Atlantis and Lemuria and imagined how things were in Roanoke. We watched TV specials and films on ancient civilizations: Great Zimbabwe, Egypt-under-sands, Heinrich Schliemann’s Troy, ruins of Viking colonies (marveling how some were found under houses, and some under unremarkable mounds). We mourned the End of the Second Age of Elves, gasped at the red skies that heralded the destruction of the DC multiverse, and were in attendance as Guy Gavriel Kay’s Reconquista fell upon the noble Moors. All in the past, all imagined or real, all dwelt upon, written on, celebrated, reviled, constructed, reconstructed, critiqued, discussed, remembered. But there are smaller lost worlds, less grand, hidden, briefly exposed, then burned, lost, obviated. When you and I met, we created in the sphere of our new relationship such a world. We set out on voyages of discovery and then sent treasure fleets to hoard moments, stories, and fragments of memory. We built and plundered and planted and razed down and colonized each other’s space in the name of love or hope or togetherness or fate or choice or chance and it was good, this small world of ours, this small sphere that to us was immense, was the solar system, was the universe. It was all good. We defended our borders against outside incursions (real and imagined), sent the barbarians packing, so we could return to the glorious task of living and conversing and arguing and yes, yes, thinking. Then one day, it was the end, it was over. It doesn’t matter if it was my hand or yours that thundered down the hapless glittering wonders of our world. It doesn’t matter who pushed the red button, who moved the doomsday clock to midnight, who did what when where how or why. Our world was smaller than Mu, tinier than Atlantis. It did not inspire books or Discovery Channel or mysterious first-person 3D games, did not proffer the wisdom of the ancients (if anything, we were not wise), did not inspire others to dream or write poetry or bake pottery with achingly beautiful figures. You moved on. Our last mutual act was walking away, apart, in different directions, crossing the silent gulf between dead small worlds and what you said were infinite possibilities.


Background Information:

Dean Francis Alfar (born 1969), is a Filipino playwright, novelist and writer of speculative fiction. His plays have been performed in venues across the country, while his articles and fiction have been published both in his native Philippines and abroad, such as in Strange Horizons, Rabid Transit, The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror and the Exotic Gothic series.

His literary awards include ten Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature (Palanca Awards) — including the Grand Prize for Novel for Salamanca (Ateneo Press, 2006)— as well as the Manila Critics' Circle National Book Awards for the graphic novels Siglo: Freedom and Siglo: Passion, and the Philippines Free Press Literary Award.
He was a fellow at the 1992 Dumaguete National Writers Workshop [1] and 20th UP National Writers Workshop.[2]

He is an advocate of the literature of the fantastic, editing the Philippine Speculative Fiction series, as well as a comic book creator and a blogger.
Alfar is also an entrepreneur — running several businesses. He lives in Manila with his wife, fictionist Nikki Alfar and their two daughters.

Satire and comedy

Sunday, March 20, 2011

In Arabic poetry, the genre of satirical poetry was known as hija. Satire was introduced into prose literature by the Afro-Arab author Al-Jahiz in the 9th century. While dealing with serious topics in what are now known as anthropology, sociology and psychology, he introduced a satirical approach, "based on the premise that, however serious the subject under review, it could be made more interesting and thus achieve greater effect, if only one leavened the lump of solemnity by the insertion of a few amusing anecdotes or by the throwing out of some witty or paradoxical observations. He was well aware that, in treating of new themes in his prose works, he would have to employ a vocabulary of a nature more familiar in hija, satirical poetry." For example, in one of his zoological works, he satirized the preference for longer human penis size, writing: "If the length of the penis were a sign of honor, then the mule would belong to the (honorable tribe of) Quraysh". Another satirical story based on this preference was an Arabian Nights tale called "Ali with the Large Member".


In the 10th century, the writer Tha'alibi recorded satirical poetry written by the poets As-Salami and Abu Dulaf, with As-Salami praising Abu Dulaf's wide breadth of knowledge and then mocking his ability in all these subjects, and with Abu Dulaf responding back and satirizing As-Salami in return. An example of Arabic political satire included another 10th century poet Jarir satirizing Farazdaq as "a transgressor of the Sharia" and later Arabic poets in turn using the term "Farazdaq-like" as a form of political satire.


The terms "comedy" and "satire" became synonymous after Aristotle's Poetics was translated into Arabic in the medieval Islamic world, where it was elaborated upon by Arabic writers and Islamic philosophers, such as Abu Bischr, his pupil Al-Farabi, Avicenna, and Averroes. Due to cultural differences, they disassociated comedy from Greek dramatic representation and instead identified it with Arabic poetic themes and forms, such as hija (satirical poetry). They viewed comedy as simply the "art of reprehension", and made no reference to light and cheerful events, or troublous beginnings and happy endings, associated with classical Greek comedy. After the Latin translations of the 12th century, the term "comedy" thus gained a new semantic meaning in Medieval literature.

Murder Mystery

The earliest known example of a whodunit murder mystery was "The Three Apples", one of the tales narrated by Scheherazade in the One Thousand and One Nights (Arabian Nights). In this tale, a fisherman discovers a heavy locked chest along the Tigris river and he sells it to the Abbasid Caliph, Harun al-Rashid, who then has the chest broken open only to find inside it the dead body of a young woman who was cut into pieces. Harun orders his vizier, Ja'far ibn Yahya, to solve the crime and find the murdererer within three days, or be executed if he fails his assignment. Suspense is generated through multiple plot twists that occur as the story progesses. This may thus be considered an archetype for detective fiction

Romantic literature

A famous example of romantic Arabic poetry is Layla and Majnun, dating back to the Umayyad era in the 7th century. It is a tragic story of undying love much like the later Romeo and Juliet, which was itself said to have been inspired by a Latin version of Layla and Majnun to an extent.[5] Layla and Majnun is considered part of the Virgin Love (Arabic: حب عذري) genre, so-called because the couple never marry or consummate their relationship, that is prominent in Arabic literature, though the literary motif is found throughout the world. Other famous Virgin Love stories include "Qays and Lubna", "Kuthair and Azza", "Marwa and Al Majnoun Al Faransi" and "Antara and Abla".
The 10th century Encyclopedia of the Brethren of Purity features a fictional anecdote of a "prince who strays from his palace during his wedding feast and, drunk, spends the night in a cemetery, confusing a corpse with his bride. The story is used as a gnostic parable of the soul's pre-existence and return from its terrestrial sojourn".


Another medieval Arabic love story was Hadith Bayad wa Riyad (The Story of Bayad and Riyad), a 13th-century Arabic love story. The main characters of the tale are Bayad, a merchant's son and a foreigner from Damascus, and Riyad, a well educated girl in the court of an unnamed Hajib (vizier or minister) of 'Iraq which is referred to as the lady. The Hadith Bayad wa Riyad manuscript is believed to be the only illustrated manuscript known to have survived from more than eight centuries of Muslim and Arab presence in Spain.


Many of the tales in the One Thousand and One Nights are also love stories or involve romantic love as a central theme. This includes the frame story of Scheherazade herself, and many of the stories she narrates, including "Aladdin", "The Ebony Horse", "The Three Apples", "Tale of Tàj al-Mulúk and the Princess Dunyà: The Lover and the Loved", "Adi bin Zayd and the Princess Hind", "Di'ibil al-Khuza'i With the Lady and Muslim bin al-Walid", "The Three Unfortunate Lovers", and others.


There were several elements of courtly love which were developed in Arabic literature, namely the notions of "love for love's sake" and "exaltation of the beloved lady" which have been traced back to Arabic literature of the 9th and 10th centuries. The notion of the "ennobling power" of love was developed in the early 11th century by the Persian psychologist and philosopher, Ibn Sina (known as "Avicenna" in Europe), in his Arabic treatise Risala fi'l-Ishq (Treatise on Love). The final element of courtly love, the concept of "love as desire never to be fulfilled", was also at times implicit in Arabic poetry

Maqama

Maqama not only straddles the divide between prose and poetry, being instead a form of rhymed prose, it is also part way between fiction and non-fiction. Over a series of short narratives, which are fictionalised versions of real life situations, different ideas are contemplated. A good example of this is a maqama on musk, which purports to compare the feature of different perfumes but is in fact a work of political satire comparing several competing rulers. Maqama also makes use of the doctrine of badi or deliberately adding complexity to display the writer's dexterity with language. Al-Hamadhani is regarded as the originator of the maqama and his work was taken up by Abu Muhammad al-Qasim al-Hariri with one of al-Hariri's maqama a study of al-Hamadhani own work. Maqama was an incredibly popular form of Arabic literature, being one of the few forms which continued to be written during the decline of Arabic in the 17th and 18th century.


Maqāma (literally "assemblies") are an (originally) Arabic literary genre of rhymed prose with intervals of poetry in which rhetorical extravagance is conspicuous. The 10th century author Badī' al-Zaman al-Hamadhāni is said to have invented the form, which was extended by al-Hariri of Basra in the next century. Both authors' maqāmāt center on trickster figures whose wanderings and exploits in speaking to assemblies of the powerful are conveyed by a narrator. The protagonist is a silver-tongued hustler, a rogue drifter who survives by dazzling onlookers with virtuoso displays of rhetorical acrobatics, including mastery of classical Arabic poetry (or of biblical Hebrew poetry and prose in the case of the Hebrew maqāmāt), and classical philosophy. Typically, there are 50 unrelated episodes in which the rogue character, often in disguise, tricks the narrator out of his money and leads him into various straitened, embarrassing, and even violent circumstances. Despite this serial abuse, the narrator-dupe character continues to seek out the trickster, fascinated by his rhetorical flow.


Manuscripts of al-Harīrī's Maqāmāt, anecdotes of a roguish wanderer Abu Zayd from Saruj, were frequently illustrated with miniatures. al-Harīrī far exceeded the rhetorical stylistics of the genre’s innovator, al-Hamadhani, to such a degree that his maqāmāt were used as a textbook for rhetoric and lexicography (the cataloging of rare words from the Bedouin speech from the 7th and 8th centuries) and indeed as schoolbooks for until Early Modern times.

Epic literature

The most famous example of Arabic fiction is the One Thousand and One Nights (Arabian Nights), easily the best known of all Arabic literature and which still affects many of the ideas non-Arabs have about Arabic culture. A good example of the lack of popular Arabic prose fiction is that the stories of Aladdin and Ali Baba, usually regarded as part of the Tales from One Thousand and One Nights, were not actually part of the Tales. They were first included in French translation of the Tales by Antoine Galland who heard them being told by a traditional storyteller and only existed in incomplete Arabic manuscripts before that. The other great character from Arabic literature Sinbad is from the Tales.


The One Thousand and One Nights is usually placed in the genre of Arabic epic literature along with several other works. They are usually, like the Tales, collections of short stories or episodes strung together into a long tale. The extant versions were mostly written down relatively late on, after the 14th century, although many were undoubtedly collected earlier and many of the original stories are probably pre-Islamic. Types of stories in these collections include animal fables, proverbs, stories of jihad or propagation of the faith, humorous tales, moral tales, tales about the wily con-man Ali Zaybaq and tales about the prankster Juha.


Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, considered the greatest epic of Italian literature, derived many features of and episodes about the hereafter directly or indirectly from Arabic works on Islamic eschatology: the Hadith and the Kitab al-Miraj (translated into Latin in 1264 or shortly before[4] as Liber Scale Machometi, "The Book of Muhammad's Ladder") concerning Muhammad's ascension to Heaven, and the spiritual writings of Ibn Arabi.

Literary Theory and Criticism

Literary criticism in Arabic literature often focused on religious texts, and the several long religious traditions of hermeneutics and textual exegesis have had a profound influence on the study of secular texts. This was particularly the case for the literary traditions of Islamic literature.


Literary criticism was also employed in other forms of medieval Arabic poetry and literature from the 9th century, notably by Al-Jahiz in his al-Bayan wa-'l-tabyin and al-Hayawan, and by Abdullah ibn al-Mu'tazz in his Kitab al-Badi.


Literary criticism is the study, evaluation, and interpretation of literature. Modern literary criticism is often informed by literary theory, which is the philosophical discussion of its methods and goals. Though the two activities are closely related, literary critics are not always, and have not always been, theorists.


Whether or not literary criticism should be considered a separate field of inquiry from literary theory, or conversely from book reviewing, is a matter of some controversy. For example, the Johns Hopkins Guide to Literary thinking and Criticism draws no distinction between literary theory and literary criticism, and almost always uses the terms together to describe the same concept. Some critics consider literary criticism a practical application of literary theory, because criticism always deals directly with particular literary works, while theory may be more general or abstract.


Literary criticism is often published in essay or book form. Academic literary critics teach in literature departments and publish in academic journals, and more popular critics publish their criticism in broadly circulating periodicals such as the Times Literary Supplement, the New York Times Book Review, the New York Review of Books, the London Review of Books, The Nation, and The New Yorker.

Diaries

In the medieval Near East, Arabic diaries were first being written from before the 10th century, though the medieval diary which most resembles the modern diary was that of Ibn Banna in the 11th century. His diary was the earliest to be arranged in order of date (ta'rikh in Arabic), very much like modern diaries.

Biography, History, and Geography

Aside from the early biographies of Muhammad, the first major biographer to weigh character rather than just producing a hymn of praise was the Persian scholar al-Baladhuri with his Kitab ansab al-ashraf or Book of the Genealogies of the Noble, a collection of biographies. Another important biographical dictionary was begun by ibn Khallikan and expanded by al-Safadi and one of the first significant autobiographies was Kitab al-I'tibar which told of Usamah ibn Munqidh and his experiences in fighting in the Crusades. This time period saw the emergence of the genre of tabaqat (biographical dictionaries or biographical compendia).

Ibn Khurdadhbih, apparently an official in the postal service wrote one of the first travel books and the form remained a popular one in Arabic literature with books by ibn Hawqal, ibn Fadlan, al-Istakhri, al-Muqaddasi, al-Idrisi and most famously the travels of ibn Battutah. These give a fascinating view of the many cultures of the wider Islamic world and also offer Muslim perspectives on the non-Muslim peoples on the edges of the empire. They also indicated just how great a trading power the Muslim peoples had become. These were often sprawling accounts that included details of both geography and history.

Some writers concentrated solely on history like al-Ya'qubi and al-Tabari, whilst others focused on a small portion of history such as ibn al-Azraq, with a history of Mecca, and ibn Abi Tahir Tayfur, writing a history of Baghdad. The historian regarded as the greatest of all Arabic historians though is ibn Khaldun whose history Muqaddimah focuses on society and is a founding text in sociology and economics.

Compilations and Manuals

In the late 9th century Ibn al-Nadim, a Baghdadi bookseller, compiled a crucial work in the study of Arabic literature. Kitab al-Fihrist is a catalogue of all books available for sale in Baghdad and it gives a fascinating overview of the state of the literature at that time.
One of the most common forms of literature during the Abbasid period was the compilation. These were collections of facts, ideas, instructive stories and poems on a single topic and covers subjects as diverse as house and garden, women, gate-crashers, blind people, envy, animals and misers. These last three compilations were written by al-Jahiz the acknowledged master of the form. These collections were important for any nadim, a companion to a ruler or noble whose role was often involved regaling the ruler with stories and information to entertain or advise.


A type of work closely allied to the collection was the manual in which writers like ibn Qutaybah offered instruction in subjects like etiquette, how to rule, how to be a bureaucrat and even how to write. Ibn Qutaybah also wrote one of the earliest histories of the Arabs, drawing together biblical stories, Arabic folk tales and more historical events.


The subject of sex was frequently investigated in Arabic literature. The ghazal or love poem had a long history being at times tender and chaste and at other times rather explicit. In the Sufi tradition the love poem would take on a wider, mystical and religious importance. Sex manuals were also written such as The Perfumed Garden, Ṭawq al-Ḥamāmah or The Dove's Neckring by ibn Hazm and Nuzhat al-albab fi-ma la yujad fi kitab or Delight of Hearts Concerning What will Never Be Found in a Book by Ahmad al-Tifashi. Countering such works are one like Rawdat al-muhibbin wa-nuzhat al-mushtaqin or Meadow of Lovers and Diversion of the Infatuated by ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyyah who advises on how to separate love and lust and avoid sin.

Philippine Literature

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Module no. 10: Philippine Literature
Posted by: Beverly Abelon
Source: http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/Literature/Short%20Stories/Wedding%20Dance.htm, http://www.buzzle.com/articles/history-of-philippine-literature.html
________________________________________________________________
Introduction:



Philippine literature had evolved much before colonization. It is full of legends and tales of colonial legacy. Mexican and Spanish dominance over the land and the people, over varying periods of time, witnessed the incorporation of English, Spanish, Filipino and native languages, to express ideology and opinion. Literature in the Philippines developed much later than in most other countries. Evidence reveals the use of a script called Baybayin that flourished in 1521. Baybayin was used to write about legends, in Luzon, during Spaniard domination. 


The literature of the Philippines is predominantly a reflection of the influence of the Spaniards on the indigenous culture and traditions. The people of Manila and native groups within the Philippines used to write on bamboo and the arecaceae palm. They used knives for inscribing the ancient Tagalog script. The literature thus preserved was limited to the seventeen basic symbols of the language. With just three vowels and consonantal symbols that had predetermined, inherent sound, the literature handed down was in a 'raw' state and needed to be developed. 


Many of the world's best short stories are native to the Philippines. When the Filipino writers began using the English language for artistic expression, they took the original works of the Philippines to the west. The folk tales and epics were, in time, put into written word along with poems and chants that were the legacies of the ethnolinguistic groups. Literary work now available includes articles on Spanish conquest, native cultural heritage, pre-colonial literature and traditional narratives. Another very interesting segment of Philippine literature includes inspiring speeches and songs. This segment has effectively maintained the mystifying characteristic of Philippine epics and folk tales. The narratives and descriptions of various magical characters, mythical objects and supernatural are surreal, distinctly adhering to the ideologies and customs of the natives. 


Ethno-epics such as Biag ni Lam-ang or the Life of Lam-ang, Agyu or Olahing, Sandayo of Subanon, Aliguyon, the Hudhud and Labaw Donggon are great examples of assimilated styles and language variations. Today, Philippine literature reflects national issues through political prose, essay writing and novels. Novels by Jose Rizal, El Filibusterismo and Noli Me Tangere patronize the revival of the rich folk traditions.



Wedding Dance


 Amador Daguio


Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the headhigh threshold.  Clinging to the log, he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow door. He slid back the cover, stepped inside, then pushed the cover back in place. After some moments during which he seemed to wait, he talked to the listening darkness.


"I'm sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry. But neither of us can help it."


The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls of the dark house like muffled roars of falling waters. The woman who had moved with a start when the sliding door opened had been hearing the gangsas for she did not know how long. There was a sudden rush of fire in her. She gave no sign that she heard Awiyao, but continued to sit unmoving in the darkness.


But Awiyao knew that she heard him and his heart pitied her. He crawled on all fours to the middle of the room; he knew exactly where the stove was. With bare fingers he stirred the covered smoldering embers, and blew into the stove. When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces of pine on them, then full round logs as his arms. The room brightened.


"Why don't you go out," he said, "and join the dancing women?" He felt a pang inside him, because what he said was really not the right thing to say and because the woman did not stir. "You should join the dancers," he said, "as if--as if nothing had happened." He looked at the woman huddled in a corner of the room, leaning against the wall. The stove fire played with strange moving shadows and lights
upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her sullenness was not because of anger or hate.


"Go out--go out and dance. If you really don't hate me for this separation, go out and dance. One of the men will see you dance well; he will like your dancing, he will marry you. Who knows but that, with him, you will be luckier than you were with me."


"I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't want any other man."


He felt relieved that at least she talked: "You know very well that I won't want any other woman either. You know that, don't you? Lumnay, you know it, don't you?"


She did not answer him.


"You know it Lumnay, don't you?" he repeated.


"Yes, I know," she said weakly.


"It is not my fault," he said, feeling relieved. "You cannot blame me; I have been a good husband to you."


"Neither can you blame me," she said. She seemed about to cry.


"No, you have been very good to me. You have been a good wife. I have nothing to say against you." He set some of the burning wood in place. "It's only that a man must have a child. Seven harvests is just too long to wait. Yes, we have waited too long. We should have another chance before it is too late for both of us."


This time the woman stirred, stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the blanket more snugly around herself.


"You know that I have done my best," she said. "I have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have sacrificed many chickens in my prayers."


"Yes, I know."


"You remember how angry you were once when you came home from your work in the terrace because I butchered one of our pigs without your permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan, because, like you, I wanted to have a child. But what could I do?"


"Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child," he said. He stirred the fire. The spark rose through the crackles of the flames. The smoke and soot went up the ceiling.


Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo flooring in place. She tugged at the rattan flooring. Each time she did this the split bamboo went up and came down with a slight rattle. The gong of the dancers clamorously called in her care through the walls.


Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat, paused before her, looked at her bronzed and sturdy face, then turned to where the jars of water stood piled one over the other. Awiyao took a coconut cup and dipped it in the top jar and drank. Lumnay had filled the jars from the mountain creek early that evening.


"I came home," he said. "Because I did not find you among the dancers. Of course, I am not forcing you to come, if you don't want to join my wedding ceremony. I came to tell you that Madulimay, although I am marrying her, can never become as good as you are. She is not as strong in planting beans, not as fast in cleaning water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You are one of the best wives in the
whole village."


"That has not done me any good, has it?" She said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost seemed to smile.


He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and came closer to her. He held her face between his hands and looked longingly at her beauty. But her eyes looked away. Never again would he hold her face.  The next day she would not be his any more. She would go back to her parents. He let go of her face, and she bent to the floor again and looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the split bamboo floor.


"This house is yours," he said. "I built it for you. Make it your own, live in it as long as you wish. I will build another house for Madulimay."


"I have no need for a house," she said slowly. "I'll go to my own house. My parents are old. They will need help in the planting of the beans, in the pounding of the rice."


"I will give you the field that I dug out of the mountains during the first year of our marriage," he said. "You know I did it for you. You helped me to make it for the two of us."


"I have no use for any field," she said.


He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a time.


"Go back to the dance," she said finally. "It is not right for you to be here. They will wonder where you are, and Madulimay will not feel good. Go back to the dance."


"I would feel better if you could come, and dance---for the last time. The gangsas are playing."


"You know that I cannot."


"Lumnay," he said tenderly. "Lumnay, if I did this it is because of my need for a child. You know that life is not worth living without a child. The man have mocked me behind my back. You know that."


"I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay."


She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, and sobbed.


She thought of the seven harvests that had passed, the high hopes they had in the beginning of their new life, the day he took her away from her parents across the roaring river, on the other side of the mountain, the trip up the trail which they had to climb, the steep canyon which they had to cross. The waters boiled in her mind in forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the waters tolled and growled,
resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away now from somewhere on the tops of the other ranges, and they had looked carefully at the buttresses of rocks they had to step on---a slip would have meant death.


They both drank of the water then rested on the other bank before they made the final climb to the other side of the mountain.


She looked at his face with the fire playing upon his features---hard and strong, and kind. He had a sense of lightness in his way of saying things which often made her and the village people laugh. How proud she had been of his humor. The muscles where taut and firm, bronze and compact in their hold upon his skull---how frank his bright eyes were. She looked at his body the carved out of the mountains
five fields for her; his wide and supple torso heaved as if a slab of shining lumber were heaving; his arms and legs flowed down in fluent muscles--he was strong and for that she had lost him.


She flung herself upon his knees and clung to them. "Awiyao, Awiyao, my husband," she cried. "I did everything to have a child," she said passionately in a hoarse whisper. "Look at me," she cried. "Look at my body. Then it was full of promise. It could dance; it could work fast in the fields; it could climb the mountains fast. Even now it is firm, full. But, Awiyao, I am useless. I must die."


"It will not be right to die," he said, gathering her in his arms. Her whole warm naked naked breast quivered against his own; she clung now to his neck, and her hand lay upon his right shoulder; her hair flowed down in cascades of gleaming darkness.


"I don't care about the fields," she said. "I don't care about the house. I don't care for anything but you. I'll have no other man."


"Then you'll always be fruitless."


"I'll go back to my father, I'll die."


"Then you hate me," he said. "If you die it means you hate me. You do not want me to have a child. You do not want my name to live on in our tribe."


She was silent.


"If I do not try a second time," he explained, "it means I'll die. Nobody will get the fields I have carved out of the mountains; nobody will come after me."


"If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder. "No--no, I don't want you to fail."


"If I fail," he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both of us will die together. Both of us will vanish from the life of our tribe."


The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and faraway.


"I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me keep my beads," she half-whispered.


"You will keep the beads. They come from far-off times. My grandmother said they come from up North, from the slant-eyed people across the sea. You keep them, Lumnay. They are worth twenty fields."


"I'll keep them because they stand for the love you have for me," she said. "I love you. I love you and have nothing to give."


She took herself away from him, for a voice was calling out to him from outside. "Awiyao! Awiyao! O Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!"


"I am not in hurry."


"The elders will scold you. You had better go."


"Not until you tell me that it is all right with you."


"It is all right with me."


He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the tribe," he said.


"I know," she said.


He went to the door.


"Awiyao!"


He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. In pain he turned to her. Her face was in agony. It pained him to leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it that made a man wish for a child? What was it in life, in the work in the field, in the planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in the communing with husband and wife, in the whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish for the laughter and speech of a child? Suppose he changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law demand, anyway, that a man, to be a man, must have a child to come after him? And if he was fruitless--but he loved Lumnay. It was like taking away of his life to leave her like this.


"Awiyao," she said, and her eyes seemed to smile in the light. "The beads!" He turned back and walked to the farthest corner of their room, to the trunk where they kept their worldly possession---his battle-ax and his spear points, her betel nut box and her beads. He dug out from the darkness the beads which had been given to him by his grandmother to give to Lumnay on the beads on, and tied them in place. The white and jade and deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. She suddenly clung to him, clung to his neck as if she would never let him go.


"Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she closed her eyes and huried her face in his neck.


The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried out into the night.


Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. Then she went to the door and opened it. The moonlight struck her face; the moonlight spilled itself on the whole village.


She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other houses. She knew that all the houses were empty that the whole tribe was at the dance. Only she was absent. And yet was she not the best dancer of the village? Did she not have the most lightness and grace? Could she not, alone among all women, dance like a bird tripping for grains on the ground, beautifully
timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men praise her supple body, and the women envy the way she stretched her hands like the wings of the mountain eagle now and then as she danced? How long ago did she dance at her own wedding? Tonight, all the women who counted, who once danced in her honor, were dancing now in honor of another whose only claim was that perhaps she could give her
husband a child.


"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not right," she said.


Suddenly she found courage. She would go to the dance. She would go to the chief of the village, to the elders, to tell them it was not right. Awiyao was hers; nobody could take him away from her. Let her be the first woman to complain, to denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take another woman. She would tell Awiyao to come back to her. He surely would relent. Was not their love as strong as the
river?


She made for the other side of the village where the dancing was. There was a flaming glow over the whole place; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamored more loudly now, and it seemed they were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The man leaped lightly with their gangsas as they circled the dancing women decked in feast garments and beads, tripping on the ground like graceful birds, following their men. Her heart warmed to the flaming call of the dance; strange heat in her blood welled up, and she started to run. But the gleaming brightness of the bonfire commanded her to stop. Did anybody see her approach?
She stopped. What if somebody had seen her coming? The flames of the bonfire leaped in countless sparks which spread and rose like yellow points and died out in the night. The blaze reached out to her like a spreading radiance. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast.


Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground, away from the village. She thought of the new clearing of beans which Awiyao and she had started to make only four moons before. She followed the trail above the village.


When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hand, and the stream water was very cold. The trail went up again, and she was in the moonlight shadows among the trees and shrubs. Slowly she climbed the mountain.


When Lumnay reached the clearing, she cold see from where she stood the blazing bonfire at the edge of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-off clamor of the gongs, still rich in their sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they seemed to call far to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their gratitude for her
sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.


Lumnay though of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy carrying his heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. She had met him one day as she was on her way to fill her clay jars with water. He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest; and she had made him drink the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After that it did not take him long to decide to throw his spear on the stairs of her father's house in token on his desire to marry her.


The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to stir the leaves of the bean plants. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to sit down. The bean plants now surrounded her, and she was lost among them.


A few more weeks, a few more months, a few more harvests---what did it matter? She would be holding the bean flowers, soft in the texture, silken almost, but moist where the dew got into them, silver to look at, silver on the light blue, blooming whiteness, when the morning comes. The stretching of the bean pods full length from the hearts of the wilting petals would go on.


Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.




Amador T. Daguio


Amador T. Daguio was a poet, novelist and teacher during the pre-war. He was best known for his fictions and poems. He had published two volumes of poetry, "Bataan Harvest" and"The Flaming Lyre". He served as chief editor for the Philippine House of Representatives before he died in 1966.


Daguio was born 8 January 1912 in Laoag, Ilocos Norte, but grew up in Lubuagan, Mountain Province, where his father, an officer in the Philippine Constabulary, was assigned. He was class valedictorian in 1924 at the Lubuagan Elementary School. Then he stayed with his uncle at Fort William McKinley to study at Rizal High School in Pasig. Those four years in high school were, according to Daguio, the most critical in his life. «I spent them literally in poverty, extreme loneliness, and adolescent pains …In my loneliness, I began to compose verses in earnest.”8 He was in third year high when he broke into print in a national weekly, The Sunday Tribune Magazine (11 July 1926), with a poem, “She Came to Me.” He was going to be valedictorian or salutatorian, but his teacher in “utter lack of justice …put down my marks in history—my favorite subject. That just about broke my heart because then I would have had free tuition at the U.P.”9


Thus out of school for the first semester in 1928, he earned his tuition (P60.00) by serving as houseboy, waiter, and caddy to officers at Fort McKinley. He enrolled for the second semester with only P2.50 left for books and other expenses. He commuted between the Fort and Padre Faura, Manila, walking about two kilometers from Paco station twice daily. He would eat his lunch alone on Dewey Blvd. and arrive at the Fort about 9 o’clock in the evening. This continued for three years. Then an uncle arrived from Honolulu who paid his tuition during his third year; before this, he worked Saturday and Sunday as printer’s devil at the U.P. and served as Philippine Collegian reporter. During all this time, he learned the craft of writing from Tom Inglis Moore, an Australian professor at U.P., and was especially grateful to A.V.H. Hartendorp of Philippine Magazine. His stories and poems appeared in practically all the Manila papers.


One of ten honor graduates at U.P. in 1932, he returned to teach at his boyhood school in Lubuagan; in 1938, he taught at Zamboanga Normal School where he met his wife Estela. They transferred to Normal Leyte School in 1941 before the Second World War. During the Japanese Occupation, he joined the resistance and wrote poems in secret, later collected as Bataan Harvest.1 0 He was a bosom-friend of another writer in the resistance, Manuel E. Arguilla.


In 1952, he obtained his M.A. in English at Stanford U. as a Fulbright scholar. His thesis was a study and translation of Hudhud hi Aliguyon (Ifugao Harvest Song). In 1954, he obtained his Law degree from Romualdez Law College in Leyte. Daguio was editor and public relations officer in various offices in government and the military. He also taught for twenty-six years at the University of the East, U.P., and Philippine Women’s University. In 1973, six years after his death, Daguio was conferred the Republic Cultural Heritage Award.


Assessment:


1. Who is the author of the story?
2. How do Philippine literature differ from the others?
3. Who are the characters in the story?
4. What is the denouement of the story?
5. What is the theme of the story?