It’s hard not to love Apu. The reader, as the viewer, grows up with him through Pather Panchali; leaves the nest as he does in Aparajito, braving death and the jungle of an unknown world, falls in love as he does in Apur Sansar, and finally goes on an eternal search for the self, culminating, [...]

The figure of Sita becomes the point of highlight in the narration as Paley compares her own break up with her husband with Sita’s separation from Rama. Paley’s witty narrative hints that the comparison of a liberated, modern woman from the 21st century with a mythical woman who is hailed as a goddess becomes possible through one defining, parameter: their devotion and love towards a man. Sometimes, the blues become a little excessive but it puts forward and sums up many of themes that this imaginative retelling tries to evoke.

Undoubtledly, Rukmini Devi Arundale did Bharatanatyam a lot of good. She in fact rescued it from the thralldom of an uncompromising “upper class”. But how? By modifying the dance to suit the conceptions of femininity that the upper classes held. What Arundale did in her revision of Bharatanatyam style was to remove the Dasi from the Attam and replace her with the more demure, less vigorous and outgoing typical upper caste woman. Is this the “pristine” form of the dance?

Parvati, Devdas’ childhood sweetheart, is one unfortunate soul. She is in love with a weak, indecisive brat and also has the misfortune to be born into a family poorer than Devdas’ mother envisages for her son. Humiliated by her love’s inability to stand up to society, she follows the only course allowed to a woman in early 20th century Bengal – marriage to a wealthy zamindar many years her senior. In the novella, she is not even allowed to step out of her husband’s zenana to see the dying Devdas. The story is hence considered a poignant portrayal of society’s constraints.