Research that matters

This week’s reading is arguably among my favorites so far. One of the issues that concerned me with previous readings is the accessibility of those materials. In other words, despite the valuable insights carried within those texts, the texts’ format and language may hinder relevant key stakeholders from reading and thus, making impacts based on these insights. However, compared to previous readings from Tsing and Debora Thomas, the language used by Dixion is sufficiently clear and easy to follow. Apart from that deviation, Dixion’s writing resembles previous readings in other aspects. For example, there’s frequent reference to theoretical grounds. Additionally, similar to how Deborah Thomas uses “Frontier” to describe the formation and escalation of violence and how Shange uses “Roadblocks” to conceptualize the obstacles within education, Dixion also relied on metaphors to convey her ideas, arguing that midwives serve as the “bridge” between the traditional and modern way of doing healthcare in Mexico.

This argument is also what intrigues me most about the reading for two reasons. Firstly, Dixion exposed how social policies that are meant to do good ended up being useless, or even dangerous as in the case of Irma, to the population it targets. I wonder what had caused this gap between intention and impact. Was it a lack of care among policy-makers that’s to blame? or did this simply reflect how how policy-makers, who probably enjoy greater socio-economic privileges than rural women, are clueless about the actual challenges faced by these women and therefore, end up issuing ineffective programs despite their good intentions? If so, what would it take to move Mexico healthcare leaders toward a more representative decision-making process? Either way, Dixion’s writing reminds me to look at each policy from the perspective of its target group and go beyond its stated mission to analyze its impacts. Additionally, Dixion proves how anthropology can complement policy-making, I learn about the importance of taking a multidisciplinary approach to making social change.

Secondly, Dixion’s suggestion of the role of midwives as a bridge between the old and the new reminds me of my conversation with a Singaporean female, who leads a social enterprise, a few years ago at an ASEAN social impact conference. She talked about the idea of social change as an evolution instead of a revolution. Dixion’s argument seems to align with this idea-instead of abruptly forcing people to switch to a new system that fails to adequately care for them due to capacity constraints, the transition should be gradual and sustainable by providing people with temporary measures until the new system is fully ready.

While reading “Hindustan is a dream” I thought about how different words can be. How in this case, so many beautiful words can garner so much attention and praise, and at the same time, the words of those in power can have such negative effects on the lives of those they lead. Yet in many cases, words come out empty, hollow, lacking any meaning in them and by extension those who speak them. It seems to me that the power of these words comes from the intent and motivation behind them. All these poems, all these speakers, every word they have is precious because it’s the last one they may ever give. Thats why their words have so much meaning, because their intent is pure and straightforward. I like this explanation because it gives the sacrifices these people made for their goal of Hindustan mean so much more, but there are problems with this theory I cant ignore, like how do people who have no intention of following through on their words gain so much power from them? Either way, I appreciated how the article presents the ways words can be used to their fullest.

One of the main things that drew me to the field of anthropology is its truly holistic nature. I think of anthropology as the study of existence since humans have the privilege of creating the narratives by which we understand our existence. For this reason, I really appreciated the perspectives that Taneja focused on in the readings assigned. “Sharing room with sparrows” especially showed me how both poetry and philosophy can be integrated into the analysis of ethnographic research. I am currently in a German Art class and have been able to analyze the ways in which art and society are inextricably tied. Art is one of the most interesting sites (in my opinion) for anthropological analysis as it informs the values and opinions of those within a particular society. Philosophy, too, helps in the understanding of how people build and relate to the social worlds they find themself within. I had never thought of how the experience of temporality influences the prevalence and acknowledgment of social oppression and ecological disruption. In the concluding paragraph, Taneja says, “Many of the same historical forces and concepts that have led to the cheapening and making expendable of black lives have also cheapened and made expendable the lives of non-human such as birds.” This focus on the distribution of power between humans and between humans and non-human species was an unexpected connection. I hope to integrate these perspectives into my future research endeavors as well.

This week’s ethnographic readings really drew me in and made me interested in this subject in a way I had never thought about before. I have always been someone who really loves and enjoys literature but hadn’t really thought about it in the way that Taneja does through these readings. The ties and depth that can be drawn between literature and our lives seemed to explain some of the feelings that I would have when reading a really good book or reading poetry that sparked a certain mood while reading them. Taneja discussed how words were used in protests and the impact that they have on the ways people interact with their identities and that was something that I found especially impactful. However, this leaves me with a question of how can we use words to get closer to the ideal world we would like to live in? At the end of the Hindustan reading from Taneja, a time where different poets come together to discuss and exist with one another is described and I think that this holds part of the solution to our issues. If we’re able to talk more and find points of agreement together, I think it is possible for us to potentially become more unified, but this would not be a quick or smooth process at all.

I would say that this week’s readings really helped me to understand the value behind field notes and the deeper connections that they have. From Taneja’s description of how Hindustan is talked about and described through different interactions with people, whether it be at protests or through someone listening to Jaun Elia’s writings, the words of Urdu poetry have a definitive impact on people and this speaks to the power of words. Overall, this reading pushed me to want to make sure that I understand the importance of the words that I use to write about experiences and how I describe the people that I will be interviewing for my project. I think this also connects back to Shange’s ethnography from last week because you could see how carefully she was thinking about the way she chose to write about her students.

While reading “Hindustan Is a Dream,” the main thing that stood out to me was the use of poems to accommodate the text. The poems, as well as anecdotes and quotes, add to the more objective narrative of the idea of Hindustan and Islamophobia in India with first-hand communication of the effects it had on people. The second poem recited by Haidry sets up a hopeful message of unity with the speaker being from different places. Then the next poem on pages seven to eight uses the “I am,” repetition to show the persecution of Muslims from the narrator’s perspective. I think the juxtaposition of these two poems is effective in contrasting what could have been with the reality of what it is. For the rest of the interspaced and analyzed poetry, the themes of violence and exclusion are continued, but the “I am a Hindustani Muslim” poem remained in my mind as I kept reading as it is the dream the title of the piece references that have not been achieved but is a dream the text argues is worth continued pursuit as the piece concludes that it is also thought of as a counter to nationalism “formed by relations across difference,”(pg 29). I think this setup was very effective with the poems being a key part of strengthening the argument towards Hindustan over nationalism.

I like to write my blogs as I’m reading so if it ever seems like I’ m missing stuff that’s why.

Anyways with that being said, starting with Munchinson chapter five, already having been present in my field of study on two occasions I already see myself adjusting what I take notes on and how I take notes. My first time, I wrote down everything, but I found myself not being responsive to my subject. Munchinson says its important to write down as much as posible so I’m still trying to find that balance of writing down notes and staying present and engaging with my subjects. I would just voice record our conversations but I really feel like that ruins the spaces purpose of being a place where they can be open and honest and vulnerable. The second time I took notes, I only really wrote down what I thought would be relevant for my paper but after reading the beginning of this chapter I’m seeing that doing this could limit my research. Finding the right balance of participation and pulling back to take notes will be difficult but I know I’ll figure it out. Especially because I have awful memory, when we began to learn about field notes in general the process of taking them stressed me out because I wanted to be present and engage but I also want to get really detailed, comprehensive notes. Like I said though, I’ll figure it out. I know for one thing instead of typing on my keyboard of my laptop I’m gonna use my phone because I can type a lot faster on that keyboard and I feel like its more natural among people my age to see someone on their phone during a conversation.

In regards to “just hanging out” I think that’s another thing I’m struggling with. The main field of study for my ethnography is a club that so far attendance has been extremely low and the only people that have come have been my good friends. Because of this, I think I’m gonna set up some posters with QR codes for surveys and maybe offer a gift card to people who participate. I want my data to not just be from a couple of my friends or a group of freshman, I would really like to get the perspectives of older black queer people at Vandy as well. I’m gonna look into doing some general surveys and maybe more in depth interviews where I’d have people list off places they consider safe as a black queer person at Vandy and do more in depth questions including the BCC and other stuff related to my study.

My role in this study as a participant observer is hard because it is a community I’m a part of; I don’t really feel like an outsider of any sorts. I guess in this sense I need to get better at being an observer in the sense of letting go some of the assumptions and understandings I have of the community that an outsider wouldn’t be aware of. Like I previously mentioned, sometimes the only person in the club is me and the leader so it’s hard to not participate. Especially because I already know a lot of these people I need to take more time to make note of things I would find interesting if I didn’t already know them. I think if I spend more time in the BCC outside of the designated queer black hangout, I will be able to observe more and also get access to those different perspectives I’m lacking as of now.

Moving on to the other methodology reading, I think its interesting that these authors are okay with people taking relatively long periods of time to participate before writing down notes as the other author clearly discourages that. So far in my research, I’ve been focused on getting my complete field notes done while in the field and didn’t stop to consider jotting down shorter phrases and elaborating after the fact. I think this will help me balance the time I spend recording and engaging. To write faster I’m gonna start turning off autocorrect when I take field notes so I can start using my own abbreviations for common wordsS

I enjoyed readings Taneja’s works as it made me appreciate those who study and create the arts as I often forget how much art contributes to politics, especially literary works. As I was reading his papers, I was confused as to why he included romanized versions of Urdu, until the one instance where he explains the ways in which he defines one of the words that shows up twice in one of the couplets. I often forget the importance of language especially because so much of language is contextual and cannot be directly translated.

I can’t remember which reading specifically also talked about redefining ties to certain areas or countries but I appreciated the introduction to watans  Taneja gave. Especially because of the harmful nature of nationalism, as well as the unique relationship to the land we are born in we all have,  I think its important for us to redefine our relationship in terms of citizenship and belonging. Rights to land and claims over land are so incredibly divise and have been sources of conflict since the beginning of civilization. I thought of the Israel Palestine conflict when hearing this definition. This reading also just made me angry  because it is another instance of how people are still losing their lives as a result of colonization, meanwhile the colonizers are doing just fine. I feel like a lot of Americans and people living in western countries who like to think that people of color stopped being affected by colonization when they gained independence.

“Sharing a Room with Sparrows” interestingly focuses on time. I think it is especially interesting how Taneja noticed the switch between present, past tense, and future subjunctive, which is an really interesting perspective. I also have mixed feelings about the pandemic. Whenever I live, whether in China or in the US, but China especially, I have a strong sense of how people want to do everything “fast”: people want fast train, fast internet speed, fast production, fast food delivery. I feel rushed living in such a society that I always wish that my life could slow down. I have also thought about the fact that certain issues are not being taken seriously because people are living such a fast life. I spent my high school in Virginia and was taught to think about various global and societal issues. However, whenever I talk to my friends in China, none of them really consider issues besides little things that are related to their lives. I have wondered why and I came to the conclusion that people in China are so busy just “surviving” through the competition: students are trying to get into good college, graduates are trying to get a good job and reside in a big city, parents are busy giving their children the best education, etc. No one have the time to think about human rights, climate change, and economic crisis. I always thought that this problem only exists in China because of the large population and inevitable competition. However, it is not until I read this reading that I realized this problem possibly exists in every country. Why is this society developing so fast that sometimes it seems so coldblooded and so distant? Can we slow it down? Are you also tired of being in the never-settling current?

The two readings from Taneja this week were very captivating to me personally, particularly because they offered knowledge and perspective on a time in history that I didn’t know much about. The first reading provided interesting theological frameworks and historical context for her second reading that was more oriented around primary examples of writing from that specific decade/era. In Hindustan is a Dream, Taneja utilizes Urdu poetry, as reflected through the life and writing of Jaun Elia, who was a particularly popular Urdu poet. I liked the way in which he described the works of Elia as melancholy but also hopeful— harboring a “sense of mourning”, yet still seeing a “potential for its [Hindustan’s] recovery” (4). I think this was well reflected in her analyses later during the reading, especially as she gets into the discussion about sense of self. Another aspect of Taneja’s first reading that I really appreciated was the way in which he provided a historical framework for religious discrimination in the era. He did this by outlining the ways in which the previously secular Indian Constitution of the era began to become theologically biased through the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA). This act, from Taneja’s description, essentially made it easier for refugees of Hindu, Sikh, Christian, Parsi, and Buddhist religions to obtain citizenship. The way in which he described this act characterized it as a pivotal point in Indian history as it became the first time a theological qualification for becoming an Indian citizen was added to their constitution. This set the stage for the rest of the reading and the larger theme of the exclusion of Muslims at large. In the second reading, Sharing a Room with Sparrows, Taneja recounts the writings of Maulana Azad, specifically commenting on his literary use of time throughout letters 19 and 20. His main comment on Azad’s letters was that his use of various verb tenses was unique. Taneja asserts that “he switches […] from past tense to present, to future subjunctive”. He elaborates upon this as he describes Azad’s personal accounts with sparrows, and how this relationship contributed to his sense of self. Specifically, how Azad’s spending time with the sparrows made him grow softer, a stark contrast to his former, more hard-shelled self. 

A possible question  that I’d pose after engaging in Taneja’s readings would most likely pertain to India’s legal and societal history of religious discrimination, as I became more interested in this aspect after reading her first article— In what other instances do we see religious discrimination reflected not only in India’s consitution and legal frameworks, but in their society today? 

I loved this week’s reading, particularly Taneja’s “Sharing a room with sparrows: Maulana Azad and Muslim ecological thought.” I think this is my favorite reading so far other than the reading about the mushrooms. The connections that were made between ecological thought, the pandemic, and minority rights were very interesting and important. Before the connection to the pandemic was even made, I noticed that the experience that Azad had of isolation and imprisonment had many parallels. While obviously imprisonment is a worse punishment than quarantining for months, the psychological impacts and transformations that arise from an extended period of isolation are quite similar. Azad began by being an aggressor, he viewed the sparrows as an unwanted guest in his space. It was not until he realized that he would benefit from connecting to his environment that he began to form an intimate relationship with the sparrows, naming them and personalizing them. This provides us with an important message about our relationships with others as when we are forced to spend an extended time alone, any sort of company will suffice–humans need intimacy and interaction to thrive. I believe that the connection to democracy that Taneja makes is especially important as well. The idea of ecological thought shows us that when we can look past all positions of power, class differences, racial/ethnic differences, gender differences, and more, it is similar to the relationship that a human has with any non-human entity. In this case, Azad simply yearned for an intimate connection with anyone and anything as he was forced to live in isolation. It did not matter that Azad was human and the sparrows were birds–the company of the sparrows was enough. One of my favorite quotations from the text was ‘”The ecological thought doesn’t just occur “in the mind.’ It’s a practice and a process of becoming fully aware of how human beings are connected with other beings – animal, vegetable, or mineral. Ultimately, this includes thinking about democracy. What would a truly democratic encounter between truly equal beings look like, what would it be – can we even imagine it?” (239.) This concept truly makes the reader think about the possibility of having a true democratic encounter with another and makes me wonder: do we think this is truly possible? Is there any instance where one can have an encounter with another individual and put all other factors (gender, race/ethnicity, age, class, sexuality, etc.) aside?

I also thought the end of the reading was very important and interesting. Taneja demonstrates to the reader that the concepts of ecological thought, the pandemic, and minority rights are all connected and parallel each other. During a period of isolation, such as a long imprisonment or quarantine during the pandemic, one’s concept of time changes and people’s outlooks are transformed. I had never really thought about the connection between our altered perceptions of time during the pandemic and the growth in strength of the Black Lives Matter movement. I thought that Taneja’s discussion of this was very significant and I would be interested in reading more pieces that further discuss the relationship between the pandemic and movements for minority rights.

In Hindustan is a Dream, Tanajea discusses the experience of Muslims living as a religious minority in India through three different mediums: the life and poetry of Juan Elia, a critique of Hindu nationalism by Maukana Abdul Hameed Nomani, and contemporary experiences such as CAA public protests. This reading really opened my eyes to the endless possibilities of ethnographies. Depending on scale and logistical restrictions, one can utilize a multitude of methodologies and seamlessly weave them together, even if they seem to not connect on the surface. I think the fact that Taneja used starkly different methods made the argument all the more convincing- this issue permeates every facet of life today, as well as throughout history. I’d love to know if there were other methods or accounts Taneja had to leave out of this work.
Sharing a Room with Sparrows only focused on one medium: personal writing accounts from the 1940s. This was also really interesting for me to read because when I think of important, cutting-edge research, I think of brand new experiments and ideas. This really showed me that there are so many historical accounts worth reading about, and that they will always be relevant to the present. The emphasis on the connection between man and nature, as well as the anti-capitalist sentiments, reminded me of the Tsing reading as well. The following quote stuck out most to me: “His writings holds open potential for us to rethink our relationships to humans and non-humans, as we are all collectively undergoing similar experiences of human disruption, because of a pandemic caused by increasingly exploitative human-animal interactions and accelerated velocities and interconnections of global capitalism and the carbon economy.” It’s a bit eerie reading about the lessons and experiences of the pandemic and we still live through it.

I thoroughly enjoyed the readings for this week, in particular Anand Taneja’s “Sharing a room with sparrows” and his characterization of and elaboration on the “ethics of the garden” (230). Azad’s readings elucidate a new way of defining our relationship to the natural world that emphasizes our connection to more than human life; it further, through the process of changing our perceptions of the non-human world, challenges our current consumerist and capitalist ideologies defending the degradation of the environment. Being confined in a cell with birds first, unsurprisingly, led to frustration and anger stemming from Azad’s predisposition that the space belonged to him. After futilely attempting to get rid of the animals, Azad’s individual transformation began to occur, and the animosity that dominated his relationship with the birds metamorphosed into a profound connection. Taneja’s translation: “‘it is not right that we live in one home, but we live as strangers’” describes the realization that triggered Azad’s evolution of self (233). This line also attracted my attention as the moment Azad realized the misconstrued nature of his predispositions, thus triggering the reconstruction of his relationship to the birds, and the ecological world at large. The use of “strangers” here resonates deeply. Many of the ways we interact with the more-than-human world we surmise are independent of the environment. We often see ourselves as separate from the natural world, despite being entirely entangled in it. Ignorance and an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fallacy have further supplemented this ideology. Our current way of thinking, strengthened by industrialization and a capitalist economy, has rendered us strangers to the ecological world that surrounds us. Azad’s experience, and Muslim ecological thought, that practices “becoming fully aware of how human beings are connected with other beings” (237), reveals as well issues of environmental justice and the disproportionate exposure of environmental harm to communities deemed as dispensable: people of color, indigenous communities, low-income communities, women, people with disabilities, the elderly, non-human species, etc.. Taneja’s “Hindustan is a dream,” additionally, presents questions regarding one’s sense of self and the ways that one is perceived by others that further discusses how we, despite all being “formed by [our] relations with this land and with the others who make up this land,” currently detach ourselves from a meaningful connection with it (8). Reimagining these relationships, as he discusses, can help us transcend past malicious exclusion and marginalization on the basis of religious affiliation. Moreover, this framework provides insight into establishing thoughtful personal, social, and ecological connections in place of deliberate ignorance and oppression–both individually and systematically. The “self-examination and self-transformation” needed to rescind predispositions and prejudices, Taneja argues, is even more possible through an altered experience of time (240). Azad’s experience confined to jail, and the time in lockdown we spent during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, I agree, offered the unique temporal qualities needed to foster those transformations. However, Azad’s experience remains distinct from ours, in its ability to rebuild his ecological relationship, because of its inevitability. In our current lives, we have countless distractions and ways of avoidance that keep us disconnected from the natural world (i.e. urbanization and technology). Because our interaction with the environment is a choice, I wonder what (if anything) can trigger the same individual transformation that Azad experienced? Is there a way to force a confrontation with our predispositions like the sparrows did?

I really love the “ethics of the garden” connection and framework that Taneja employs throughout the Sharing a Room with Sparrows piece. It reminds me of some Amazonian (and some Andean) Ecuadorian Kichwa ways of thinking about the world. Sumak Kawsay, which translates roughly to the “good life,” requires a healthy relationship with nature and also comes with a set of human responsibilities. For example, (I was told) when you begin a hike, you must bring a rock with you from the bottom of the trail to place it as an offering to the mountain at the top. Carrying the stone shows that you are willing to suffer/ struggle for the mountain and land you’re walking on, and it also allows communication between the bottom and top of the mountain, tapping into the idea that nature is all interconnected. It also reminds me of Eduardo Kohn’s book, How Forests Think, which talks about how non-human species communicate and coexist. Kichwa ontology is so grounded in the interconnectivity of the human and non-human worlds, not even really separating them sometimes, that it’s interesting to read about how Indian Muslim discourse shares some of the same thoughts.

I wonder why Western scholarly attention has not focused much on the elevated moral status given to animals and plants in the Quran until recently? What changed to make this so?

I also really enjoyed the way that Anand Taneja drew parallels between the altered temporality that Azad experienced and the early COVID lockdown that we experienced in 2020. The altered relationship to time, she argues, allowed Azad to observe nature, in this case, birds, in different ways and think about new ways of existing that were not possible before. She points out that COVID lockdowns, in some ways, offered her similar pause to do the same. I like how she called the time in lockdown a time to pay attention that was not “dominated by relentless cycles of productivity and entertainment” (239). This description really struck me–the way that we do boomerang from productivity to entertainment (at least, I do!) during the day–from working to social time or social obligations and back again–really do make up most of our lives. The sentence, “When George Floyd was killed, the world paid attention” (239) was especially striking. You couldn’t escape this news. It wasn’t lost in the news cycle or drowned out by the cycle of life’s other demands, the way that it could normally be for populations privileged enough to ignore this kind of news. I wonder, how exactly do we get the world to keep paying attention? How do we keep intertwining minority rights and ecological thought together with shared language, like Taneja points out? Once (and now that it is) the world spins into action again, how do we resist the temptation to throw ourselves back into the cycles of entertainment and productivity again? Or maybe this is a futile attempt in a capitalistic world, and the better question is, how do we take the lessons of ecological observation and rest from COVID and apply them to our reality?

In the last section, Taneja describes Christian Cooper’s graphic novel outlining his experience of getting the cops called on him while bird watching in Central Park. Jules, the character, sees the faces of black people killed by police violence while looking through the binoculars. I wanted her to extend this metaphor of the binoculars further–how does this idea intersect with Azad’s experience with the birds and possibly, his greater political project in writing down his thoughts? Even though Taneja disagrees with Mufit’s reading of Azad as being purely allegorical in service to politics, I wonder if Taneja does think that Azad had some kind of political project in mind when writing them?

Dr. Anand Vivek Taneja beautifully argues how the renewed interest of Hindustan is indicative of residents’ hope of India as the potential for Muslim belonging in a future India. Although contemporaneously associated as a Muslim North Indian practice, the historical use of Hindustan is a  place that contains multitudes of faiths and polities. This is  why Amir Aziz quoted her grandfather as saying “Hindustan is a dream.” Due to continuous lynching, political exclusion, and daily discrimination of Muslims in India, Muslim residents are actively working towards this dream. To buttress this argument, Dr. Taneja looks at poetry as both a symbol for hope of Hindustan but also as a form of discourse between community members with those on the outside.

Collecting data from  January 2018 and March 2020, Urdu poetry stood out as an effective tool. First, he accounts the history of Urdu poetry which was once formerly excluded from Indian educational curriculums. Around 2013, when a website began to make Urdu poetry accessible, Urdu poetry begin to see a reawakening. Because it is free from constraint, Urdu poetry has been connected as a method of identifying belonging which is especially needed for the Muslim community who are often excluded and even require documentation to go to certain areas of the country. Urdu poetry has garnered popularity in Anti-CAA protests and even informal gatherings such as mushaira. In December of 2019, Urdu poetry was on center display as young men began chanting while walking down the street in response to a video put on social media. Although most contention surrounded the Muslim rhetoric portion, not as much was given to the part of what is our relationship. The author connects this question to intimacy between religions. He then uses poetry to buttress this claim

Dr. Taneja uses a mixture of interviews, participant observations, and historical mapping to develop his argument surrounding Hindustan and poetry. He does a beautiful job in respecting his participants and paining them in a light not often seen in the United States’s view of India and especially Muslim individuals.  He also describes the political and cultural landscape very nicely as I myself did not have many problems following alone even though I am not fully knowledgable about India or Muslim practices and sects. Personally, I love the focus of poetry as data to describe the hopes and goals for Hindustan especially since poetry was at the center of two major Anti-CAA protests. At times, I was curious about how he was making his connections. For example, how did he know that “what is the relationship” was connected to intimacy between different regions? I am curious did he interview some of the protesters or was this a widely known concept for the community at the time. Furthermore, in Sharing a Room with Sparrows, Dr. Taneja is able to beautifully connect multiple concepts such as Azad’s letters and experience to time with the murder of George Floyd and why the eight minutes and forty-six seconds were so meaningful.  All in all, this is one of my favorite ethnographies we have read in class. I can’t wait to meet the author.

As I read ““Hindustan Is a Dream”: Urdu Poetry and the Political Theology of Intimacy”, which revolves around poetic attempts to resist exclusionary practices against Muslims in India, I found myself following the portrayal of women throughout the text and wondered whether they, similar to Muslims, are also pushed to the outer circles of the Indian society, though less explicitly. From Hussain Hardry to Jaun, we continuously encounters key poets who are all males. In talking about Hindustan’s meaning and related issues, the author wrote “Hindustan Doesn’t Belong to Anyone’s Father”. The author later went on making her point about intimacy from observing the gathering of male poets. The names, the people, the actions (citing poems, smoking on the streets), the attention seem to be entirely centered on males. The lack of women presence causes me to wonder. Why not “Hindustan Doesn’t Belong to Anyone’s Mother” instead of “Hindustan Doesn’t Belong to Anyone’s Father”? Why Jaun and Haidry instead of female poets? Did women not write or was it the case that their writing did not receive attention? If they did not write, then why might that happen? Did they have access to resources that might have enabled them to?

The first major appearance of women in the text comes from Sita, Maryam (Mary), and
Ayesha. Yet, not only are their roles constrained to those of wives and lovers, but their appearance also simply serve as backgrounds for a central male character-the godking Rama. The next portrayal of women is on page 27, when the author wrote “Mothers pray constantly for the safety of their sons, because young Muslim men are particularly
vulnerable in Modi’s India”. Again, women are to be attached to some men and restricted to their traditional roles. Similarly, in talking about the story of a young girl named Priyanshi, the author attached her identity to her father’s, elaborating on how the father was a hero.

Another point I find interesting about the text is the discussion on watan, defined as an “idea of emplaced belonging, and of topophilia, cultivated not just through birth, or ancestry, but through relations with the sometimes radically different others with whom one shares space.” This idea relates to the metaphor of garden discussed in the ‘Sharing a room with Sparrow” reading. As a Vietnamese student in the US, I wonder whether it is possible to cultivate this idea of watan within the context of Vanderbilt, and if so, how to go around doing this. My project, which investigates the relationship between acculturative stress (the stress associated with transitioning to a new culture) and mentorship among Vietnamese international students will hopefully become one way to delve deeper into this idea.

What I thought most interesting about this reading was the concept that the perception of time changes and adjusts based on a person’s situation and the dynamics of their immediate world. Taneja writes about Azad’s experience spending time with sparrows and how his relationship with them began to affect both his outward and internal perspective. His interactions with the birds led to a “transformation in Azad, a move from agitation and aggression to stillness and vulnerability” (238). Such confinement allowed him both the space and time to turn violence into understanding – “a gradual rescinding of earlier fears and prejudices” (238). Azad’s initial notions and preconceptions of the birds were appeased as he grew an inter-species understanding that he had previously unknown.

Taneja eventually relates this transformation / internal and external dynamic with the current pandemic. It seems that with the forced quarantine, time slowed down… when people are forced to slow down, they are better able to pay attention to both themselves and the world around them, finally enabling a desperately needed dialogue between humans and current social issues. This is important, but it also appears that the world only paid attention to issues like Black Lives Matters to the extend that it did because of the fact that everyone was forced to slow down. Taneja suggests that it is “because the altered experience of time as a shared global phenomenon has already brought about a
moral reckoning in human relations” that people decided this movement was worth their energy (239).

While the pandemic has allowed us to have time to reflect and understand the world outside of its external factors, our relationship with our own personal “sparrows” should ideally be in existence regardless of the pace of our surroundings. Thus, if our time and space must be altered in order for us to transition from “aggression to stillness,” what can we do to actively achieve stillness and a deeper dialogue with the world around us without this alteration? How will it improve society’s outlook on current social issues?

   Reading “Sharing a Room with Sparrows” was particularly impactful because of the way Taneja connects Azad’s imprisonment to our shared experience of the pandemic. The “spiritual journey” that Azad takes on alongside the sparrows is a deeply convicting reflection on life and how our perception of time affects the focus of our attention. I was particularly struck by Taneja’s connection of Azad’s writings to George Floyd and the nation’s reaction in the summer of 2020. Taneja writes, “Perhaps only because the altered experience of time as a shared global phenomenon has already brought about a moral reckoning in human relations” (239). In truth, I had not considered how our perception of time during the pandemic influenced the attention and subsequent response given to the atrocities committed against George Floyd, “giving people the time” to sit and watch in horror for the entirety of the nine minute video. Suddenly, we, as a nation so focused on being busy and getting things done, had the time to care about the horrific violence and racism persistent in our society. I thought this was an incredible comparison and application of Azad’s writings with the sparrows.

Additionally, this reading made me think about the role of translation in research. As an English speaker myself with no knowledge of the language in which Azad writes (Urdu, correct?), I have to rely entirely on the translation of Taneja, and this author has the impeccably difficult job of translating poetic text from another century in a way that carries the same meaning. This challenge is evident in her lengthy explanation of her translation of peace/accommodation on page 233. How does not reading the text in its original language impact our understanding of it? Are we missing elements because we are reading a translated version? Sometimes, certain sentiments or ideas cannot be easily changed from one language to another, and I imagine this is a particularly difficult and recurring issue present when studying such poetic writing in one language and publishing articles about it in another language.

  Looking to “Hindustan is a Dream,” I was left with many curiosities regarding Taneja’s extended ethnographic research project in India. How did she begin working with Urdu poetry? What did her time in India look like? She hints at attending poetry readings and even a protest, but I am very curious as to what other events she observed and how she conducted interviews. She also references social media posts such as on Twitter and Facebook (21)—was this an important part of her study? How much time did she spend online as an observer? I look forward to hearing more about how she conducted this research as well as how she protected her informants/herself while studying Islamaphobia at such a tense, violent time for Muslim people in India.