Stories from Ilahabad: The City's Intellectual Atmosphere and Cultural Peculiarities
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Aaj Tak
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Stories from Ilahabad: The City's Intellectual Atmosphere and Cultural Peculiarities

In the city of Ilahabad, formerly known as Illahabad, there exists a distinct intellectual atmosphere that manifests even in daily interactions. One day at Ilahabad University, two professors from Delhi, after finishing their business, left the university and asked an auto-rickshaw driver to take them to a hotel. During the ride, they began discussing literature.

The first professor stated that Kafka's sense of Alienation is not merely a social division but an existential state, as his characters are detached from their own existence. The second professor countered, arguing that Kafka's absurdity is not a literary device but an existential reality, citing Gregor's metamorphosis as a metaphor for dehumanization.

The first professor continued the debate, noting that the theme of dehumanization is more characteristic of Dostoevsky, whose worldview does not place human reason on any moral foundation. He emphasized that this forms Dostoevsky's psychological and philosophical universe. He then mentioned the story 'The Stranger,' where the protagonist, whose mother is dying, does not cry, and the world condemns him for it.

At that moment, the second professor tried to recall the author's name of this story but could not, feeling confused. Suddenly, from the next row of the auto-rickshaw, a voice rang out: 'Ah, Albert Camus wrote it!' Both professors were stunned, looking at each other, amazed by the knowledge of the Ilahabad auto-rickshaw driver. They asked him if he read literature.

The author notes that this is the 'Ilahabadi flavor'—the intellect inherent in the water of this city, where even a panas seller can share knowledge unavailable in books because this city is populated by educated people such as Akbar Ilahabadi and Jawaharlal Nehru.

Another story from Ilahabad is recounted: a delegate from Delhi, who was both a poet and a civil servant, approached Firak Gorakhpuri asking him to write a preface to his collection of poems. Firak agreed, writing a brief description of the author. However, the delegate requested the addition of a phrase stating that this poet had given a new direction to Urdu ghazal. Firak replied: 'Son, do not change the direction, or the ghazal will break. What is written is enough.'

This 'Ilahabadi spirit,' passing through Firak, Harivansh Rai Bachchan, and Shamsur Rahman Faruqi, reflects the mentality of a city where people dream of becoming bureaucrats (IPS, PCS). In Ilahabad, there are no unemployed people, only those awaiting results. At the same time, the city is full of people possessing street smarts.

The narrator recalls the times when the city was called Ilahabad and recounts moving to the city to work in a private company's sales department. The first visit was marked by the feeling that it was a small city lagging behind Mumbai, and that people could be easily deceived here because sellers tend to consider themselves smarter than those around them.

One evening, while walking in the park near his home, the narrator noticed a man sitting on a bench at the entrance, next to whom sat a little girl. The girl was reading a book, making notes with a pen. They looked like hundreds of other park visitors, but there was a noticeable sadness on their faces. The narrator ignored them and started running along the park paths.

After several laps, when he started to get breathless, his gaze fell again on the same pair. The girl continued to look at the book, and the man watched her with longing, seemingly wanting to start a conversation but stopping himself. When the narrator finished his run, the man looked at him. As the narrator crossed his path, the man stood up and began to follow him at a quick pace. The narrator became wary, but the man gestured for him to stop, showing despair. They approached a bench located a little further from the girl, and the narrator stopped.

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Youth interest in reading books grows in South Korea, moving away from K-dramas and Reels
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Youth interest in reading books grows in South Korea, moving away from K-dramas and Reels

In the era of streaming services, where most people watch Korean dramas filled with stories of love, thrillers, and suspense, South Korea is demonstrating a completely different trend. Instead of being completely absorbed by K-dramas, young people in the country are showing increased interest in reading books.

This new phenomenon has been named Texthip and has turned reading into a sign of cultural sophistication among youth. According to a report published by Bloomberg, the habit of reading is unexpectedly reviving in South Korea. In central areas of Seoul, people can be seen reading books in open spaces and along public waterways.

This shift occurs against the backdrop of a global decline in reading levels. Although the percentage of adults in South Korea who read books has dropped to 38.5%, the situation among young readers is the opposite. Data from the report shows that the proportion of Generation Z youth who read has increased by more than 75% compared to last year.

The interest in literature extends beyond bookstores and libraries; themed products, such as milk creams, are also becoming part of this phenomenon. Reading is perceived as a form of fashion, allowing young people to demonstrate their preferences and identity. The driving force behind this trend is the enthusiasm of the youth, which gives books new meaning, and young people actively participate in group meetings to discuss books.

A significant event for the country's literary world was the awarding of the 'Nobel Prize in Literature 2024' to Korean writer Han Kang. After the announcement of the award, sales of her books reached approximately one million copies in a single week. However, the report emphasizes that the growing popularity of reading among young people is not limited to the success of one author.

The government also supports reading through public initiatives. There are about 300 open libraries operating in South Korea, where books are available in public places, some of which are provided free for outdoor reading. Despite the continued influence of short videos and social media on how youth consume content, the Texthip trend in South Korea presents a different picture, attributed to Lodis Bel from Unsplash.

Stories from Bhopal: Features of Local Narration and Folklore
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Stories from Bhopal: Features of Local Narration and Folklore

There is an old story about an armed robbery of a mansion in Chandni Chowk. Four or five robbers entered with weapons, committed the robbery, but the police received news and arrived. By that time, the robbers were already fleeing. One of the policemen opened fire, wounding one of the criminals, after which they disappeared. An investigation began to find out their origin and identity, but there was no evidence. When the police recreated the scene, they remembered that the wounded robber shouted: 'Are Khan, you shot!' The police assumed that 'Khan' was a word used in Bhopal, and the idea arose that they might be from Bhopal. After this, the investigation was conducted in Bhopal, and six months later, the robber was found and arrested by the police specifically in Bhopal.

It is unknown whether this story is true or fictional, but many people pass it on, associating it with Bhopal. Undoubtedly, it is about the fact that the Bhopal dialect is very melodious, but if you listen closely, you can notice that it is a language of storytelling, a language of exaggeration. That is, it is a language that uses excessive generalization to bring pleasure to the listener.

This dialect has developed in such a way that it allows a story to be told in a way that interests the listener. For example, if someone asks: 'What happened, Khan, why did you come so fast? Did you avoid traffic jams?' The answer might sound like this: 'Once my brother Sahu... It happened that the Nawab's helicopter broke down. It was a brand new machine. Many mechanics were called, engineers came, but nothing worked. Then the Nawab called us and said: 'Come and see what the problem is. The Nawab valued us greatly. We started looking: look, the helicopter engine starts, but when you try to engage the gear, it remains motionless.'

I also told the Nawab: 'Nawab, we sat under the sun for a long time thinking about it. We ourselves have managed large helicopters and made them old. We brought our wrenches, disassembled the parts, but... the matter is unclear. We looked for a long time, then he hit his palm on the hood, and the hood... And we immediately understood that the fan belt had broken.' The Nawab was pleased and said: 'Mian, you surpassed great engineers.' He asked: 'What is your fee?' I replied: 'Nawab, do not humiliate me. The fee is taken from outsiders.' He said: 'We will not let you leave empty-handed. Alright, take this. Here is fuel for our helicopter; there were two barrels. Take it.' I swear, I took both these containers of helicopter fuel home and poured it into my motorcycle. Now my motorcycle is running two feet above road traffic for three days, so I arrived quickly.

This story is called 'patiyabazi'—it is a feature of the Bhopal dialect and its amusing stories. Today in Storybox, I will talk about the Bhopal language and some famous stories told in it.

Every city has its own culture. For example, if you go to Lucknow, you will find food lovers and refined Urdu culture. In Banaras, the culture is different—a spiritual atmosphere. Similarly, Hyderabad has its own culture. What about Bhopal? Here, the 'patiyabazi' culture means that 'paties' (sitting places) are set up on the streets, intersections, and tea stalls where people gather and tell stories. The interesting thing is that both the storyteller and the listener know that the story is fictional, but it brings them pleasure. They will tell you a story so exaggerated that you will like it, and lie so skillfully that you will believe it as truth, even knowing it. As Sher Vasim said, he lied very skillfully. If I didn't trust, what would I do?

This is a fading art of the people of Bhopal, but today there are still people who support this 'batolebazi' art. The idea to talk about this in Storybox came after meeting one of such storytellers two days ago. We talked about the weather, and he said that it would soon get cold, and this time it would be cold. He said: 'Mian Jamshed Bhai, it is getting cold now. In our time, it was so cold that both the big pond and the small pond froze. The situation was such that we could play cricket on the pond, bro, and the fours and sixes we hit flew to Areera Colony. And one shot flew to Saket Nagar. One ball fell three kilometers from Indore.'

I laughed and asked: 'When you throw like that, why do you throw the ball three kilometers from Indore? Why not throw it right in Indore?' He answered: 'Okay, can we lie three kilometers now?'

Another story told by our friend Salim Nasheedi, an addict. In Bhopal lived a gentleman named Salim Nasheedi, who lay in his room all day using drugs. He had no connection to work or affairs and never cared about hygiene. One day some 'jamatis' came to him—men with beards who guide lost people and explain to them that they need to work, build something in life, take care of cleanliness, and observe prayers and fasting.'

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