Japanese wave in Malayalam Children's Magazine: Manga Series in Balarama - Part 3

                                                Amar Chitra Katha

The description of Amar Chitra Katha as a project for transmitting “Indian values” is supported by Karline McLain in “Whose Immortal Picture Stories?: Amar Chitra Katha and the Construction of Indian Identities,”  who explains that Anant Pai conceived the comics as a means of teaching “Indian themes and values” to Western-educated Indian children (McLain 1). McLain also records the series’ promotional description as “the route to your roots” (McLain 1). These statements substantiate its educational and cultural-national purpose, although “Indian values” should not be treated as a neutral or universally agreed category.

Deepa Sreenivas in Sculpting a Middle Class: History, Masculinity and the Amar Chitra Katha in India similarly observes that Amar Chitra Katha offered “knowledge, history, culture, national pride, recreation” in an accessible form (Sreenivas 1). She argues that the series “‘naturalised’ a certain tradition” and influenced readers’ assumptions about what counted as “Indian” (Sreenivas 2). Thus, Balarama’s circulation of Amar Chitra Katha material did more than introduce children to mythology and history: it also participated in constructing particular ideas of culture, nation, virtue, and Indian identity.

In The Classic Popular: Amar Chitra Katha, 1967–2007, Nandini Chandra examines how Amar Chitra Katha converts Hindu mythological and historical figures into national heroes by organizing Indian history around a recurring conflict between an indigenous community and an external enemy. Describing this narrative pattern, Chandra writes that “each issue had a superhero who attempted to wage war against foreign oppression, whether the ‘foreigner’ was the Asura, Muslim or British” (qtd. in Fernandes). The asura, the Muslim ruler, and the British colonizer belong to radically different mythological and historical contexts; Chandra’s point is that the comics frequently place them within a comparable structure of foreign aggression and heroic resistance.

Within this structure, the protagonist commonly defends Hindu rulers, communities, sacred territories, or cultural traditions, while resistance to the antagonist is presented as service to the larger nation. The comics thereby make the movement from Hindu identity to national identity appear natural rather than ideologically constructed. Chandra observes that Amar Chitra Katha’s patriotism draws selectively upon an idealized Hindu past and argues that its professed secularism is “defined along Hindu lines” (Chandra 206). Hindu mythology and kingship consequently provide the symbolic vocabulary through which national history, unity, courage, and belonging are represented.

Chandra further notes that this national framework does not treat all communities equally. In her analysis of medieval and Sikh narratives, Muslim or Mughal characters repeatedly occupy the position of the antagonist, while Sikh, Jain, Buddhist, Bhakti, and other traditions may be incorporated into an extended Hindu-centred national structure (Chandra 206–15). The process is therefore not simply the representation of Hindu mythology alongside Indian history; it is an ideological reorganization of images, myths, and historical narratives through which a culturally specific Hindu past is presented as the collective inheritance of the Indian nation.

Deepa Sreenivas in “Sculpting the Citizen: History, Pedagogy and the Amar Chitra Katha” argues that Amar Chitra Katha does not simply recover an objective or self-contained Indian past; rather, it reorganizes history and mythology so that they speak to contemporary ideas of nationhood, citizenship, and cultural identity. She describes ACK’s history as “presentist,” explaining that “its history and mythology have a contemporary frame of reference” (Sreenivas, “Sculpting the Citizen”). The apparently glorious past narrated by the comics therefore points towards a preferred model of the present: heroic figures from mythology and history become moral exemplars through whom children learn how an ideal Indian citizen should behave.

This national past is frequently structured through a Hindu or Brahmanical cultural framework. Sreenivas observes that ACK attempts to revive the “‘authentic’ traditions of India through a re-telling of history and mythology” and, in doing so, fashions “a nationalist, brahminized yet modern masculinity” for middle-class children (Sreenivas, “Sculpting the Citizen”). In narratives concerning Padmini, Shivaji, and Rana Pratap, regional and Hindu heroic identities are elevated into national models. As Sreenivas notes, “A Rajput identity very often emerges as the pan-Indian identity and the history of Rajasthan stands for the ‘glorious past’ of India” (Sreenivas, “Sculpting the Citizen”). The movement from Hindu or upper-caste cultural memory to national history is therefore not neutral; it presents one historically located tradition as the shared inheritance of all Indians.

Sreenivas further demonstrates that this process can marginalize Muslim, Dalit, and other non-dominant identities. She states that, within ACK’s ideological framework, “When the Muslim is excluded/Othered from the idea of the nation, it is because he does not share ‘our’ norms and values” (Sreenivas, “Sculpting the Citizen”). Even figures such as Ambedkar may be detached from the collective politics of caste and recast through narratives of individual merit and self-improvement. Sreenivas consequently warns that ACK’s history “might be deeply exclusionary for children from minority or non-middle-class communities” and may direct “an accusing look on the Muslim child or the Dalit child” (Sreenivas, “Sculpting the Citizen”). Her criticism is therefore not that minority figures are always entirely absent, but that they may be marginalized, stereotyped, selectively assimilated, or deprived of the political contexts central to their histories.

The lasting pedagogical force of this representation is evident in Sreenivas’s recollection that ACK “‘naturalised’ a certain tradition” and shaped her assumptions about “what is ‘Indian’ and what is not” (Sreenivas 2). She concludes that the series “moulded the self-image, character and imagination of hordes of middle-class children” in the 1970s and 1980s (Sreenivas 2). These statements substantiate the argument that ACK helped construct a culturally specific form of nationalist childhood by presenting selected mythological and historical traditions as common national knowledge. 

Children's Magazines in Malayalam

Kerala’s children’s literature developed within the state’s exceptional traditions of literacy, education, and oral storytelling. V. K. Ramachandran in “On Kerala’s Development Achievements” describes Kerala as a state characterized by “mass literacy (and near-total literacy among adolescents and youth)” (Ramachandran). Equally significant is its extensive Malayalam oral culture. Rubin D’Cruz in “Children’s Literature in Kerala: Traces and Trajectories” observes that “folk literature constitutes an integral part of the oral tradition in Kerala” (D’Cruz). Folktales, myths, lullabies, riddles, tongue-twisters, ritual performances, and regional ballads consequently formed an important cultural foundation for the later growth of written literature for children.

K. P. Kesava Menon’s Bilathi Visesham, first published in 1916, occupies an important position in the development of Malayalam travel writing. P. K. Parameswaran Nair in History of Malayalam Literature identifies it as “the first travelogue in modern literature” (Nair 275), while J. Sripadmadevi in “Exploring Children’s Literature in India with Special Reference to Roopa Pai’s Taranauts Series” more specifically describes it as “a travelogue for children” (Sripadmadevi 264). Taken together, these sources support describing Bilathi Visesham cautiously as an early modern Malayalam travelogue that has also been classified within children’s literature. The stronger assertion that it was definitively one of the earliest travelogues written expressly for children requires further bibliographical evidence.

Translation, adaptation, abridgement, and retelling have played a central role in the formation of Malayalam children’s literature. D’Cruz reports that “more than half of Kerala’s children’s literature comprises translations, adaptations and abridgements” (D’Cruz). Early printed texts included Christian moral stories translated from English, while later publications introduced Malayalam readers to the Panchatantra, the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, Aesop’s fables, European fairy tales, English classics, and Soviet children’s books. These textual exchanges expanded the available genres and subjects while also encouraging the development of original Malayalam writing for young readers.

Mathew M. Kuzhiveli made a substantial contribution to this publishing culture through Balan Publications, established in 1941 and devoted specifically to children’s books and the periodical Balan. The publishing house issued approximately three hundred children’s books, around sixty of which were written by Kuzhiveli himself. Nevertheless, the claim that Balan was the first Malayalam children’s magazine, launched as a weekly in 1948, should be omitted because the available historical accounts disagree about its date and periodicity. Among the prominent writers associated with twentieth-century Malayalam children’s literature were Mali Madhavan Nair, known for his adaptations and adventure writing, and Sumangala, whose works include Midhayippothi.

Institutional support was strengthened by the establishment of the Kerala State Institute of Children’s Literature in 1981. Operating under the Government of Kerala’s Department of Cultural Affairs and based in Thiruvananthapuram, the Institute publishes Malayalam books and periodicals, promotes reading among children, organizes training programmes, and presents awards for writing and illustration. D’Cruz describes it as “the first state-run institute for children’s literature in the country” (D’Cruz).

Kerala has supported a diverse culture of children’s periodicals issued by newspaper establishments, commercial publishing houses, scientific organizations, and religious and cultural associations. Although several early publications had limited runs, it would be inaccurate to characterize every earlier venture as unsuccessful. R. Gopalakrishnan in “When Our Hearts Leapt Up” notes that the children’s magazine Chilamboli, launched in 1961, “was short-lived,” while Balayugam, introduced by Janayugam in 1969, continued for approximately twelve years (Gopalakrishnan 40). These ventures created an important foundation for the later expansion of Malayalam periodical publishing for children.

A decisive stage in this development was the appearance of the illustrated children’s magazine Poompatta in 1964. Noorunnida argues that it “established successful readership figures for the first time” among Malayalam children’s periodicals (Noorunnida). Gopalakrishnan similarly identifies it as “the most famous and highly popular children’s magazine in Malayalam” and maintains that “a transformation in children’s literature was initiated by ‘Poompatta’” (Gopalakrishnan 40-41). Its significance therefore lay not merely in being another magazine for children but in establishing a commercially successful and visually influential model that encouraged other publishers to enter the field.

The identity of the magazine’s original founder requires cautious presentation. Noorunnida names Achutha Variyar, whereas Gopalakrishnan’s account identifies P. O. Warrier; other bibliographical sources use P. A. Warrier. In the absence of verification from the original 1964 issue, it is safest to state that Poompatta was founded in Thiruvananthapuram in 1964 by Warrier. In 1978, its publication was taken over by the Ernakulam-based Pai and Company, generally known as PAICO (Gopalakrishnan 41). The PAICO period became the magazine’s most influential phase: its circulation expanded considerably, it became a fortnightly publication, and its content, graphic design, and page layout established standards subsequently followed by other Malayalam children’s magazines.

Gopalakrishnan identifies S. V. Pai as the publisher and N. M. Mohan and R. Gopalakrishnan as the editors principally responsible for the magazine’s success during the PAICO period (Gopalakrishnan 41). N. M. Mohan later moved to Balarama, where he became a major figure in the development of Malayalam comic publishing (Noorunnida). The movement of editors, illustrators, serialized characters, translations, and publishing practices between magazines demonstrates that Malayalam children’s periodical culture developed through professional and creative networks rather than through isolated publications.

After the PAICO period, Poompatta passed through other publishing establishments and was eventually issued from Thrissur by Suryaprabha Publications. Later publication histories indicate that the Suryaprabha edition ceased publication in 2008. Thus, Poompatta is best understood as a historically significant but currently discontinued Malayalam children’s periodical whose success transformed the content, circulation, and visual culture of children’s magazines in Kerala.

Emergence of Balarama

Balarama is a Malayalam children’s comic magazine published from Kottayam by M.M. Publications, part of the Malayala Manorama Group. Noorunnida records that it “started out as a monthly in 1972,” became a fortnightly publication in 1984, and was converted into a weekly in 1999 (Noorunnida). A retrospective commemorating the magazine’s fiftieth anniversary reproduces the inaugural editor’s declaration: “We are extremely glad to present our first book of Balarama to the youth of Kerala” (Madhavan). This wording indicates that the earliest issues were directed primarily towards older children and adolescents, although younger children subsequently became the magazine’s principal readership.

Over time, Balarama achieved substantial commercial and cultural visibility. Noorunnida describes it as “one of the most widely circulated children’s magazines in Kerala” (Noorunnida). Its appeal was expanded through a combination of Malayalam stories and comics, characters obtained through Indian publishing networks, and licensed international comic material. Balarama published American and other international comic strips, characters, and Disney adaptations. A Malayala Manorama retrospective confirms that Disney material began appearing in August 1985 and identifies Todd and Copper as the first story, followed by adaptations such as The Jungle Book, Sleeping Beauty, Pinocchio, and Cinderella. Spider-Man, Batman, Phantom, Mandrake, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and other international characters also appeared in the magazine at different periods. Abridged versions of Dracula, Les Misérables, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame were also published separately as Balarama’s sister magazines.

M.M. Publications also developed a long-running association with Amar Chitra Katha evidenced by the separate Malayalam publication Balarama Amar Chithra Kadha. Malayala Manorama describes this publication as presenting “the rich heritage of Indian culture and mythology” through comics (Malayala Manorama).                   

Balarama’s association with Amar Chitra Katha extended this cultural material to Malayalam-reading children. M.M. Publications continues to market Balarama Amar Chithra Kadha as presenting “the rich heritage of Indian culture and mythology” through the comic-book form (Malayala Manorama). It is therefore reasonable to argue that this publishing relationship helped circulate ACK’s particular versions of heritage, history, and national identity within Kerala. However, the existence of a publishing partnership does not by itself prove that Balarama endorsed every ideological feature identified by Sreenivas. 

Popular children’s magazines in Kerala construct different models of childhood through their selection of stories, characters, cultural practices, and forms of knowledge. In Noorunnida’s fieldwork, the editors of Eureka criticized Balarama and similar commercial magazines on the grounds that they “try to create a fantasy-oriented and mythological childhood” (Noorunnida). This assessment should not be treated as an objective description of every item published in Balarama; nevertheless, the magazine has regularly circulated fantasy narratives, comics, and stories connected with Hindu mythology and ritual culture.

Noorunnida illustrates this tendency through “Hari Sree,” an article published in the September 1977 issue of Balarama. The article depicts a child’s vidyarambham ceremony and associates the beginning of education with an invocation to Ganapathi. According to Noorunnida, it presents an “‘ideal’ way of starting schooling” and an “‘ideal’ student who prays to Lord Ganapathi for a successful education” (Noorunnida). Mythology and religious ritual therefore function not merely as entertaining narrative material but as cultural frameworks through which proper childhood, learning, and conduct are imagined. The continuing importance of such content within the wider Balarama publishing network is confirmed by M.M. Publications’ description of Balarama Amar Chithra Kadha as presenting “the rich heritage of Indian culture and mythology” in comic-book form (Malayala Manorama).

Other Malayalam children’s magazines construct childhood through contrasting intellectual, religious, and ethical frameworks. Eureka, published by the Kerala Sastra Sahitya Parishad, sought to cultivate a scientific and rational disposition; its January 1972 editorial maintained that increasing a pupil’s “scientific consciousness” would also “make them more human” (qtd. in Noorunnida). By contrast, editors associated with the Muslim children’s magazines Kurunnukal and Malarvadi stated that these publications were established “to teach goodness to children” and offered prophets, imams, and caliphs as culturally recognizable role models (qtd. in Noorunnida). These magazines consequently do not address a single, culturally neutral child. Each constructs a preferred childhood through particular combinations of entertainment, education, mythology, religion, science, morality, and community identity.

The simultaneous circulation of these publications demonstrates that multiple and sometimes competing conceptions of childhood can exist within the same historical and geographical setting. Sultana Ali Norozi and Torill Moen in “Childhood as a Social Construction” observe that “childhood differs even in the very same society” according to factors such as gender and social class (Norozi and Moen 75). In Kerala’s periodical culture, organizations likewise employ narratives about childhood to advance different ideas of knowledge, morality, identity, citizenship, and social development. These constructions should not be understood as completely isolated or mutually exclusive: fantasy, mythology, scientific reasoning, secular education, and religious ethics may overlap, conflict, and negotiate with one another within the same public sphere.

In the early 2020s, Balarama’s reported introduction of manga reflected the growing transnational movement of Japanese popular culture into regional-language publishing. The series selected by the magazine was “Anjamathe Aayudham (The Fifth Weapon)”. The appearance of a manga-form narrative in a Malayalam children’s periodical may therefore be interpreted as part of a broader process through which locally established magazines incorporate international visual and narrative conventions. Anne Cooper-Chen observes that the international circulation of Japanese comics “occurred worldwide” and identifies translation as a crucial pathway through which Japanese illustrated narratives crossed linguistic boundaries (Cooper-Chen 89).

Manga itself should not be treated as a single genre. It includes a range of demographic and thematic categories, including shōnen and shōjo manga, as well as sports, fantasy, romance, adventure, everyday-life narratives, and isekai fiction. Deborah Shamoon emphasizes that manga genres are flexible formations that continually develop in response to readers’ interests. The introduction of such forms into Malayalam periodical culture may consequently expose young readers to unfamiliar methods of visual composition, characterization, pacing, and serial storytelling, although the stronger assertion that this automatically fosters creativity requires evidence from reader-response or educational research.

Balarama translated the dialogue and adapted the artwork for its Malayalam readership through this new series. This process can be understood as localization rather than as literal linguistic translation alone. Federico Zanettin defines comics localization as encompassing “both ‘translation’ and ‘visual adaptation’” and explains that visual adaptation may include alterations to “publication format, layout, pictures” and lettering. Accordingly, if Balarama modified verbal and visual features of the series, the Malayalam version would constitute a localized cultural product designed to make a transnational comic intelligible and commercially accessible to a regional audience. The series demonstrates the circulation and possible localization of manga conventions within Malayalam children’s publishing through this endeavour. 

 

Japanese wave in Malayalam Children's Magazine: Manga Series in Balarama - Part 2

 The Cultural Value of Children's Literature

Children’s literature is among the earliest narrative forms through which young readers encounter, organize, and interpret experience, and it therefore exercises considerable influence over their understanding of themselves and the social world (Reynolds 4-5). Anjali Adukia and her co-authors in “What We Teach About Race and Gender: Representation in Images and Text of Children’s Books” state directly that “Books shape how children learn about society and norms” (Adukia et.al 2225). Stories provide images, language, attitudes, values, narrative patterns, and explanatory structures through which children may contemplate unfamiliar experiences and position themselves in relation to other people. As Rudine Sims Bishop in “Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors” observes, “Literature transforms human experience and reflects it back to us” (Bishop ix). Through this reflective process, literature can affirm readers’ existing identities while also exposing them to lives, environments, and cultural experiences different from their own.

Because literature produced for children has traditionally been associated with formal and informal education, it also functions as an important medium of cultural transmission. Children’s stories do not merely entertain; they introduce readers to social relationships, moral expectations, historical narratives, religious beliefs, scientific knowledge, and culturally approved forms of behaviour. Kerry Mallan in “Children’s Literature in Education” describes imaginative storytelling as a means that “brings the world into the classroom and takes the classroom out into the world” (Mallan). Children’s literature consequently connects education with imaginative experience, communicating information while also shaping the emotional and conceptual frameworks through which that information is understood.

The long history of writing for children further makes it an especially productive source for cultural and historical research. Children’s literature moves between home and school, private reading and institutional instruction, official and unofficial discourse, and elite and popular culture; it also frequently combines verbal and visual representation (Reynolds 4-5). Its texts and illustrations can therefore provide evidence about changing ideas of childhood, clothing, domestic environments, shops, servants, family structures, illness, medicine, religion, warfare, migration, scientific development, exploration, and everyday material life. Adukia and her co-authors similarly examine a century of children’s books while “documenting what has changed and what has endured over time” (Adukia 2225).

Such works must nevertheless be read critically rather than treated as transparent records of historical reality. Children’s books reveal not only how people, places, and events were represented but also the ideological assumptions through which writers, illustrators, publishers, teachers, and other adults interpreted them. They are therefore valuable historical sources both for the information they contain and for the cultural values, silences, hierarchies, and educational priorities embedded within their verbal and visual forms.

Children’s literature maintains complex links with the past because stories encountered during childhood continue to influence individual memory, cultural identity, and the organization of social life. Just as childhood experiences persist into adulthood, texts written for young readers may continue to shape the assumptions through which societies understand authority, family, gender, race, morality, and acceptable behaviour (Reynolds 5). Children’s literature is therefore not merely a reflection of society; it participates in transmitting, legitimizing, and occasionally transforming the values by which society is structured.

This transmission is not necessarily straightforward or ideologically uniform. Traditional assumptions may be preserved in older texts, consciously promoted in contemporary conservative works, or unconsciously repeated in books that reproduce dominant social attitudes without critically examining them. At the same time, contemporary writers and illustrators frequently return to myths, fairy tales, legends, and other inherited narratives in order to expose and revise the conceptual frameworks through which readers interpret the world. John Stephens and Robyn McCallum in Retelling Stories, Framing Culture: Traditional Story and Metanarratives in Children’s Literature explain that retellings may operate “either to reproduce or contest significance” and may constitute “a new negotiation between the already given and the new” (Stephens and McCallum 8). Retelling thus creates a dialogue between cultural continuity and ideological revision: familiar plots and characters are retained, but their assumptions about gender, power, race, class, disability, childhood, and authority may be challenged or reconstructed.

This capacity to revise inherited narratives gives children’s literature an important role in discussions of equality and diversity. Representation can either confirm the social visibility of young readers or communicate their marginality. Bishop warns that “When children cannot find themselves reflected in the books they read . . . they learn a powerful lesson about how they are devalued” (Bishop ix). Inclusive and revisionary children’s literature can therefore question exclusionary traditions, expand the range of identities represented in culture, and encourage young readers to imagine social relationships differently. Such literature does not produce social change automatically, but it can provide the vocabularies, images, and alternative perspectives through which change becomes conceivable.

The radical potential of cultural work involving children was also important to Walter Benjamin. In his “Program for a Proletarian Children’s Theater,” Benjamin describes children’s performance as “the radical unleashing of play” (Benjamin 205) and locates “what is truly revolutionary” in “the gesture of the child” (Benjamin 206). Although this essay concerns children’s theatre and political education rather than children’s books alone, it illuminates Benjamin’s belief that children’s creativity could resist the authoritarian assumptions reproduced by conventional bourgeois schooling. His emphasis on play, collective production, and children’s expressive agency helps explain why Reynolds associates his thought with the capacity of writing and cultural activity for the young to radicalize future generations.

Whether a work is radical or conservative, aesthetically distinguished or commercially formulaic, children’s literature both records culture and actively contributes to its development. Its narratives preserve historical assumptions, register contemporary conflicts, and sometimes formulate alternatives to established systems of thought. It is consequently, as Reynolds observes, “a rich but for long undervalued source of information about culture” (Reynolds 5), as well as a significant force in the continuing production and transformation of cultural values.

Children’s literature has frequently occupied a marginal position within literary institutions and the established canon. Its perceived association with childhood, simplicity, and entertainment has often caused it to be treated as less intellectually or aesthetically significant than literature written for adults. M. O. Grenby in Children’s Literature notes that the academic study of children’s literature was once regarded as “beneath the dignity of serious students and academics” (Grenby 199). Such attitudes reveal how the presumed immaturity of children has been extended to the texts written for or associated with them.

The narratives, experiences, and voices of children are also conventionally framed through adult assumptions about innocence, immaturity, dependence, and incomplete development. Rose challenges this apparently natural conception of the child reader, observing that “Children’s fiction rests on the idea that there is a child who is simply there to be addressed” (Rose 1). Her argument demonstrates that the child presented in literature is not necessarily a transparent representation of real children but is often an imaginative construction created by adults. Ideas such as innocence and immaturity may therefore function as cultural frameworks through which adults define what childhood ought to be.

A similar reductive approach shapes conventional understandings of children’s magazines, which are frequently classified as serving either entertainment or didactic instruction. Grenby identifies a long tradition of books designed to “offer children entertainment intertwined with education” (Grenby 12). Although entertainment and education are important functions, reducing children’s magazines to this binary can obscure their broader cultural, ideological, and political roles. Such publications also transmit ideas about morality, citizenship, family, gender, religion, social behaviour, national identity, and the qualities considered desirable in an ideal child.

According to M. Noorunnida in “Children’s Magazines and Different Childhoods in Kerala” children’s literature and magazines therefore participate in the construction of historically and geographically preferred forms of childhood rather than merely representing childhood as it naturally exists (Noorunnida). This becomes especially problematic when childhood is treated as a homogeneous and universal condition. Allison James and Alan Prout in “A New Paradigm for the Sociology of Childhood? Provenance, Promise and Problems” state that “Childhood is understood as a social construction” and maintain that comparative analysis reveals “a variety of childhoods rather than a single and universal phenomenon” (James and Prout 8). They further argue that childhood cannot be separated from variables such as “class, gender, or ethnicity” (James and Prout 8). The experiences of children are consequently shaped by social location, historical circumstances, political institutions, economic conditions, and cultural identities.

Dominant children’s narratives may nevertheless present the experiences of socially privileged children as representative of childhood as a whole. By universalizing one version of childhood, such texts can conceal differences produced by religion, caste, class, gender, race, disability, language, region, and community. In “Telling Different Tales: Possible Childhoods in Children’s Literature”, Deepa Sreenivas’s examination of stories situated within Dalit and minority communities seeks to “problematize the normative grids through which we view ‘childhood’” and draws attention to “the material conditions of their marginality” (Sreenivas 316). These narratives challenge the assumption that all children encounter family, education, labour, poverty, discrimination, violence, and social belonging in the same ways.

The exclusion of diverse childhoods has significant consequences for young readers. A critical study of children’s literature and magazines must therefore examine not only the childhoods that are represented but also those that are normalized, simplified, marginalized, or erased. Rather than understanding childhood as an innocent and universal stage of life, children’s literature should acknowledge the multiple and intersecting social conditions through which different childhoods are experienced.

Sreenivas examines how dominant Indian children’s writing frequently privileges a normative, middle-class and upper-caste model of childhood. Rather than claiming that every Indian children’s text addresses the same reader, she identifies a recurring framework in which childhood is organized around particular economic resources, domestic relationships, food practices, schooling, language, and cultural experience. In her related essay “Language and Lifeworlds,” she observes that mainstream narratives commonly centre on “children from middle class backgrounds” and that their apparent innocence is mediated by an “upper caste middle class point of view” (Srinivas 40). Such literature may therefore present a socially located experience as though it were the ordinary or universal form of Indian childhood.

Children from Dalit, Adivasi, minority, working-class, or disabled backgrounds may appear within these narratives, but their inclusion is often conditional. Sreenivas states that children from non-mainstream settings “must strive to establish their exceptionality in order to be accepted” (Srinivas 40). In other words, marginalized children are frequently required to demonstrate extraordinary courage, intelligence, talent, usefulness, or resilience before the dominant social world recognizes them. This is especially apparent in Sreenivas’s discussion of Kali, whose forest knowledge must be “translated into a story of individual heroism” before he can gain acceptance among his classmates (qtd. in Easo).

Sreenivas’s argument, however, is not simply that marginalized children possess some special or inherent “extra power.” Her concern is that mainstream narratives impose exceptionality as a condition of recognition, thereby leaving the social structures responsible for exclusion largely unexamined. The stories collected in the Different Tales series instead “problematize the normative grids through which we view ‘childhood’” (Sreenivas 316). They depict children negotiating caste, poverty, labour, discrimination, disability, language, and minority identity while drawing strength from family relationships, community knowledge, occupational practices, and collective histories. Childhood consequently emerges not as a single or uniform experience but as a plurality of materially and culturally situated childhoods.

Philippe Aries’s historical study of childhood in Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life challenged the assumption that childhood is a natural, timeless, and universally experienced category. Aries famously argues that “in medieval society the idea of childhood did not exist” (Aries 128). By this statement, he does not claim that medieval societies lacked children or affection for them; rather, he refers to the absence of a distinctly modern awareness of childhood as a separate stage of life. Although aspects of Aries’s thesis have been debated by later historians, his work was foundational in demonstrating that prevailing understandings of childhood have developed historically. This position is expressed more precisely by James and Prout, who state that childhood is “neither a natural nor universal feature of human groups” and that comparative analysis reveals “a variety of childhoods rather than a single and universal phenomenon” (James and Prout 8).

Because childhood is culturally and historically constructed, representations of children can also serve political and ideological purposes. Children’s literature does not merely reflect pre-existing ideas about childhood; it may actively produce preferred models of identity, citizenship, morality, nationhood, and social belonging. As Robyn McCallum and John Stephens assert in “Ideology and Children’s Books”, “no book is innocent of ideological implications” (McCallum and Stephens 359). Texts for young readers may therefore naturalize a society’s dominant beliefs or provide alternative narratives that challenge them. It is more accurate, however, to attribute this argument to children’s-literature and childhood-studies scholars generally rather than to Aries alone, since Aries’s central concern was the historical development of the concept of childhood.

The representation of Palestinians and Arabs in some Israeli and Hebrew children’s books provides a significant example of the relationship between children’s literature, ideology, and national identity. In his study of commercial Hebrew children’s literature in “The Portrayal of Arabs in Hebrew Children’s Literature”, Fouzi El-Asmar observes that “The Bedouin is the principal Arab character in children’s books which portray the people who inhabited Palestine before 1948” (El-Asmar). Such representations may associate Palestinians with nomadism and thereby weaken their perceived historical connection to a particular territory. More recent scholarship similarly examines how Palestinian characters and landscapes are positioned within Israeli national narratives. Gila Danino-Yona in “The Palestinian ‘Other’ in Israeli Children’s Books” argues that, in the books she analyzes, “stereotypical landscape images represent a ‘national’ landscape” and contribute to “forming the national imagination” (Danino-Yona 36). These studies demonstrate how children’s literature can construct social hierarchies, define national belonging, and shape young readers’ perceptions of minority communities and their life-worlds. The claim should nevertheless be limited to the particular texts and corpora examined by these scholars rather than generalized to all Israeli or Hebrew children’s literature.

Part 3

Ranajit Guha & Subaltern Studies

This article will be exploring Ranajit Guha and Subaltern Studies, the significance of Guha's contributions to historiography and the emergence of the Subaltern Studies collective and the relevance of understanding subaltern perspectives in postcolonial studies and challenging dominant historical narratives. This is not just an academic pursuit - it holds relevance and impacts our lives in various ways. So, let's explore together how it connects to our experiences, challenges our perspectives, and opens new avenues for understanding.

Ranajit Guha was an influential Indian historian and one of the founding members of the Subaltern Studies collective. Born in 1923, Guha played a crucial role in developing the field of Subaltern Studies, which emerged as a significant intellectual movement in the 1980s. He played a central role in the development of the Subaltern Studies project, a significant historiographical endeavor focused on the history of colonial India. The project spanned twelve edited volumes of historical scholarship published between 1982 and 2005. Guha edited the first six volumes, and subsequent volumes were edited by other scholars associated with the project, many of whom he had mentored or influenced.

The Subaltern Studies collective aimed to challenge traditional historiography and provide an alternative perspective on the history of South Asia by focusing on the experiences and agency of marginalized groups. The term "subaltern" refers to individuals or groups who are socially and politically marginalized, often belonging to lower castes, indigenous communities, peasants, or other disadvantaged sections of society. Guha's work and ideas played a pivotal role in shaping the theoretical framework and direction of the Subaltern Studies project.

Subaltern Studies emerged as a prominent current in historical thought during the late 20th century and was responsive to changes in the prevailing intellectual climate. While initially associated with the "history from below" approach, which emphasized the study of marginalized and oppressed groups, the project also drew inspiration from structuralism, poststructuralism, and post-colonial theory. The endorsement of the project by Edward Said, the influential postcolonial theorist, and the significant dialogue between Guha and Gayatri Spivak, another leading postcolonial theorist, further contributed to the project's influence and its alignment with post-colonial theory.

Subaltern Studies can be understood as a sustained dialogue, sometimes contentious, with the powerful and influential Marxist legacy in South Asian historical scholarship. Many of the project's leading historians had established their reputations within a broadly Marxist scholarly milieu. However, Subaltern Studies positioned itself as an internal critique of both Left scholarship and politics.

To understand Guha's trajectory and the development of Subaltern Studies, it is important to consider the intellectual and political context in which he operated. Guha was born in 1923 in East Bengal, which is now part of Bangladesh. He was educated in Calcutta and became involved in left-wing student activism during the 1940s, the final years of British rule in India. After India gained independence in 1947, Guha was sent to Europe as a student representative by the Communist Party of India. His travels and exposure to different political and intellectual currents shaped his thinking.

Two crucial processes influenced Guha during this period. The first was the spread of radical historical scholarship, particularly associated with the "history from below" approach and the work of scholars like Eric Hobsbawm, E.P. Thompson, and George Rude in the United Kingdom. This approach emphasized studying the experiences of oppressed groups, such as workers and peasants, on their own terms and understanding their struggles against oppression and resistance. Guha was also deeply influenced by the Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci, who emphasized the importance of a Marxist politics that extended beyond the industrial working class to include all subordinated and oppressed groups. Gramsci's concept of the "subaltern" as a bloc of subordinated classes resonated with Guha's understanding of Indian realities, where social relations and oppositions were complex and could not be reduced to a simplistic binary between bourgeoisie and proletariat.

The second process that shaped Guha's trajectory was the political and intellectual churning on the left in the post-World War II era. While the working class in the industrialized West appeared to be integrated into liberal-democratic capitalism, revolutionary movements dominated by peasants and tribal groups were emerging in many parts of the Third World. Maoism gained popularity during this period, and its emphasis on revolutionary violence and engagement with the poorest of the poor appealed to many activists and scholars in societies marked by extreme exploitation and social inequalities. In India, the Naxalite movement, inspired by Maoism, sought to mobilize peasants and agricultural laborers in armed resistance against oppressive landlords and the state. Guha's encounter with young Maoist militants in the early 1970s deepened his interest in peasant studies and the history of rural radicalism.

Guha and his fellow scholars within the Subaltern Studies collective sought to give voice to these marginalized groups by examining their experiences and perspectives. They critiqued dominant narratives that tended to focus on the actions and motivations of the ruling elites, arguing that such narratives overlooked the agency and resistance of subaltern groups.

Guha's own contributions to Subaltern Studies were significant. In his influential book Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency in Colonial India (1983), he analyzed various peasant uprisings during British colonial rule in India. In this work, Guha challenged the prevailing notion that peasant uprisings during British colonial rule were primarily driven by economic factors. Instead, he argued that these uprisings should be understood as political acts and cultural expressions of resistance. His work highlighted the agency of subaltern groups and emphasized the need for historians to pay attention to their voices and experiences. Guha advocated for a historical methodology that incorporated a more nuanced understanding of power relations, cultural practices, and the complex dynamics of resistance.

The Subaltern Studies collective, including Guha's contributions, had a profound impact on the field of postcolonial studies and influenced scholars across various disciplines. It challenged traditional historical narratives, promoted the study of marginalized communities, and fostered a more inclusive approach to understanding the complexities of colonial and postcolonial societies. Guha examined the narratives of various peasant uprisings and emphasized the agency and consciousness of the subaltern groups involved. He argued that these movements were not mere reactions to economic hardships but were deliberate acts of defiance against oppressive colonial structures. Guha emphasized the significance of local, cultural and ideological elements in shaping the nature of resistance.

Furthermore, Guha introduced the concept of "dominance without hegemony" to understand the relationship between the ruling elites and subaltern groups. He argued that the colonial state in India maintained its dominance through force and coercion rather than through a genuine acceptance or incorporation of the dominant culture. This concept challenged the prevailing notion of cultural hegemony and highlighted the ways in which power was exercised and resisted in colonial societies.

Guha's work also emphasized the importance of grassroots sources and narratives in reconstructing the history of the subaltern. He advocated for a historiographical approach that took into account oral traditions, folklore, songs, and other forms of popular culture as valid sources of historical understanding. This emphasis on alternative sources and perspectives was crucial in challenging the biases and limitations of official records and mainstream historiography. Overall, Guha's contributions to Subaltern Studies helped reshape the field of South Asian history and influenced scholars across disciplines. His emphasis on the agency, consciousness, and cultural dimensions of subaltern groups provided a foundation for the study of marginalized communities and their resistance against colonial domination.

History is not confined to the past; it intertwines with our present and shapes our future. The stories of the subaltern, often obscured or forgotten, remind us of the resilience, the aspirations, and the untapped potential that lies within every marginalized individual and community. May everyone be inspired to dismantle oppressive structures, amplify unheard voices, and forge a path towards a more equitable and inclusive society. 

In the realm of Ranajit Guha and Subaltern Studies, we are confronted with a profound challenge and an extraordinary opportunity. By embracing the subaltern, we illuminate the hidden corners of history, giving voice to the silenced and agency to the marginalized. Let us continue to excavate the narratives of the oppressed, challenge hegemonic discourses, and strive for a world where the subaltern triumphs, and justice prevails.

Stories from Down Under: Rediscovering the Status of Aboriginal Women in Tara Shannon's “Always Told I was a White Girl"

Abstract

For Australian Aboriginals, memory has a political and cultural significance different from both the settlers and immigrants. Aboriginal communities were highly developed and their communal life was grounded in rich tribal mythology tied to their land. Losing their land was the equivalent of losing their own culture. Many settlers believed that the Aboriginals were an inferior race and, therefore, doomed.  One place where Aboriginals found sensitivity to their history and recognition of injustices done to them was in Australian fiction. Later, Aboriginals themselves started telling their own stories. Aboriginal writers are reclaiming the place that is theirs by birth and talent. Australian Aboriginal women writers started writing against gender issues and the dual discrimination they faced. They are thrice discriminated – from the settler's society, from within the Aboriginal Community due to their status as Aboriginal women and the racial discrimination they faced from the settlers. Racism was also a significant factor for discrimination - either because of the dark complexion of the Aborigines or of the unusual fair complexion they possessed. This paper tries to study Tara Shannon's poem “Always Told I was a White Girl”, in which the poet talks about the racism she faced from the settlers because her skin tone was white.

Keywords: Aboriginal women poetry, Tara Shannon, Misogynist Australian tradition, Triple Discrimination, Aborigines

Introduction

Contemporary Australia is a nation formed by colonization and immigration. It is a stage for their disinheritance, displacement and dispossession of both indigenous and immigrant people. Independence has provided the opportunity for self - determination in secular countries. However, Australian indigenous people remain culturally colonised and subordinate.

The first Australians were Aboriginals, the indigenous people, who were later displaced and exploited by the later settlers who started mastering the “Land Down Under”. For them memory has a political and cultural significance different from both of settlers and immigrants. Aboriginal communities were highly developed and their  communal life was grounded in rich tribal mythology tied to their land. Losing their land was the equivalent of losing their own culture. Many settlers believed that only the strongest races were programmed to survive. They decided that the Aboriginals were an inferior race and, therefore, doomed.

In their writing, the settlers painted the picture of Aboriginals with the feelings of contempt, disgust and horror. A writer in the Hobart Town Gazette in 1825 refer to the wild and gothic mind set, savages cradled in wilderness amidst the horrors of houseless and garnerless vagrancy. One place where Aboriginals found sensitivity to their history and recognition of injustices done to them was in Australian fiction. But as the years changed the Aboriginal writers also came to the forefront.  Later, Aboriginals themselves started telling their own stories. Aboriginals themselves started telling their own stories. Aboriginal writers are reclaiming the place that is there is by birth and talent. Aboriginal people started to define aboriginality through their writings.

Australian feminist scholars see a strong misogynist tradition in Australian society, art and literature. Thus, Aboriginal women writers started writing against gender issues and the Triple discrimination they faced. They are thrice discriminated - from the settler's society, from within the aboriginal Community due to their status as Aboriginal women and the racial discrimination they faced from the settlers.

“Always Told I was a White Girl”

Many works by Aboriginal women writers in Australia are reactions to the roles and positions of women. They explored women's lives and functions in contemporary society through their literary pieces. Racism was also a significant factor for discrimination - either because of the dark complexion of the Aborigines or of the unusual fair complexion they possessed. In Tara Shannon's poem “Always Told I was a White Girl”, the poet talks about the racism she faced from the settlers because her skin tone was white.

Tara Shannon is an Australian Indigenous poet born in New South Wales. She focuses her poetry in Aboriginal culture. “Always Told I was a White Girl” is her 2020 poem which expressed the discomfort and feeling of discrimination that the poet has felt all her life because of her white skin tone. She struggled with this issue of being discriminated all her life. As a young child up to an adult she was always called a white girl because of the tone of her skin. She tries to teach all of Australia a lesson through her poem.

What makes her poem so powerful and significant is that she addresses an issue that is all around the world and not just Australia that is, racism. “When is all the racism and discrimination all going to end I wonder.” (Shannon, line 15). She wants everyone to know that just because someone's skin is of a certain tone, it doesn’t mean they don’t have a different culture or they don’t inherit the Aboriginal culture inside them. Rhetorical questions are used to make the reader think about what the poet is asking. “Who are you to say I’m not Aboriginal? / Because the colour of my skin is white?” (Shannon, lines 6-7). “Did your mother not tell you, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?” (Shannon, line 12).

She is pointing out that even though her skin tones different she is still Aboriginal in blood. “I’ve got black through my blood and through every inch of my veins.” (Shannon, line 11). She wants people to know that it’s route to redefine someone by their skin tone. “Constantly criticised on my Appearance.” (Shannon, line 4). Both coloured as well as white skin tone is a problem for the settlers. It is clear that the real problem is not the skin tone but them being an Aboriginal especially Aboriginal women. Having white skin tone, they doubts the identity of the poet. But the settlers forget about the identity of themselves, - they being settlers who colonised and east trying to control natives of the land down under, the Aboriginals.

 The poet address is not only her problem but of her community to that is Wadijuri. “On behalf of my mob and community, / this is for you, / Wadijuri” (Shannon, lines 21-24).She calls for a change in the attitude of the Australians. She hopes that the new generation shouldn’t be like this. “Educate your kids, Australia, get them to change their behaviour.” (Shannon, line 8).

Even in the 21^st century when there is development and technological innovations human nature still remains the same. Colour consciousness is still in human. Even though human race seems progressive they are narrow minded. So this work by Tara Shannon is a call for change by advocating the ethnic community.

 *****

Co-Author: Aiswarya A.S

Paper 1st presented in the International Webinar on Stories from Down Under: Gender Discourses in Australia conducted by Centre for Australian Studies, Institute of English, University of Kerala in 2022

References

Edelson, Phyllis Fahrie. Australian Literature: An Anthology of Writing from Land Down Under. Ballantine Books, 1993.

Ferguson, Susan J. Race, Gender, Sexuality and Social Class: Dimensions of Inequality. Sage Publications, Inc., 2013.

Shannon, Tara. “Always Told I Was a White Girl.” Edited by Jens Korff, Creative Spirits, 12 Aug. 2020, https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/poems/always-told-i-was-a-white-girl.

 

Redefining 'Bahu' in the Age of AI: The Humanoid Daughter-in-Law in Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant

 

Abstract

In the ever-evolving world of popular culture, the portrayal of traditional family dynamics encounters a remarkable transformation in the Indian television soap opera Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant. This research paper embarks on a captivating journey through the realms of posthumanism and gender dynamics by placing the spotlight on the character of Rajni (Randomly Accessible Job Network Interface), a humanoid daughter-in-law within the soap opera. The paper initiates with an exploration of the multifaceted concept of posthumanism and its relevance in an era characterized by technological advancements. It then delves into an in-depth analysis of Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant, unraveling the portrayal of AI and robotics and their influence on the boundaries between humans and machines. Through a meticulous examination, this study explores how the show ingeniously challenges and redefines traditional gender roles and expectations in the domestic sphere.

Moreover, this research discusses the ethical and moral dilemmas woven into the narrative, revealing how the presence of a humanoid character fosters profound reflections on human-technology interactions. Within the context of Indian culture and society, the soap opera acts as a mirror reflecting evolving attitudes toward technology, artificial intelligence, and posthumanist themes. Redefining 'Bahu' in the Age of AI brings to light the transformative power of popular culture to question established norms and reimagine familial structures. By examining the soap opera through the lens of posthumanism and gender, this research paper contributes to the ongoing discourse on how AI and technology are reshaping traditional roles and relationships in contemporary society.

Keywords: Hindi serial, Humanoid Bahu, Posthumanism, Cyborg theory, Posthuman Subjectivity, Nomadic Self

Introduction

In an era characterized by rapid technological advancements, the concept of posthumanism has emerged as a powerful lens through which we explore the evolving relationship between humanity and technology. At its core, posthumanism challenges traditional notions of what it means to be human, blurring the lines between flesh and machine, biology and artificial intelligence. It is within this context that we embark on a captivating journey into the world of popular Indian culture, as exemplified by the television soap opera Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant. Intriguingly, Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant introduces viewers to Rajni, a character who defies conventional definitions of a daughter-in-law. She is not merely a human family member but rather a humanoid creation equipped with artificial intelligence, programmed to fulfil domestic responsibilities. The soap opera, in this regard, becomes a unique canvas upon which posthumanist themes are intricately woven into the fabric of everyday familial life.

The relevance of posthumanism to Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant lies in its ability to challenge the boundaries of human identity and agency. As we delve into this televised narrative, we encounter a world where technology and human existence converge in a manner that prompts us to reconsider deeply entrenched norms, especially those surrounding gender roles within the domestic sphere. The humanoid daughter-in-law, Rajni, disrupts traditional expectations, challenging the very essence of what it means to be a 'bahu' (daughter-in-law) in Indian society. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant serves not only as entertainment but also as a thought-provoking mirror reflecting the profound transformations occurring in our increasingly technologically mediated world. This exploration promises to unveil the intricate world of posthumanism and gender dynamics that weaves through the storyline, offering valuable insights into the evolving contours of contemporary Indian society.

Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant is an Indian television soap opera that originally aired from 2016 to 2017. The program revolves around the eccentric Kant family and their unconventional daughter-in-law, Rajni. Dr. Shantanu Kant, a brilliant scientist, creates an advanced humanoid robot named Rajni to assist humanity. Rajni possesses a human-like appearance, a charming face, and a brain with processing power surpassing 100 computers. Initially, her primary purpose is to serve and help humans with various tasks. However, the scientist's life takes an unexpected turn when he ends up marrying Rajni, not realizing the complexities and humour that this union would bring. The Kant family, unaware of Rajni's true nature as a robot, becomes embroiled in a series of comedic and thought-provoking situations as they navigate life with their unusual daughter-in-law.

The soap opera cleverly explores themes of artificial intelligence, posthumanism, and the blurring boundaries between humans and technology within the context of a traditional Indian family. Rajnikant's character challenges traditional gender roles and expectations, leading to both humorous and insightful moments. As the show unfolds, viewers are treated to a delightful mix of humor, drama, and social commentary, making Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant a unique and engaging addition to the world of Indian television. Rajnikant, a humanoid robot with advanced artificial intelligence represents a classic posthuman element - the merging of human and machine. Rajnikant's physical appearance, human-like behaviours, and cognitive abilities blur the lines between what is traditionally considered human and artificial.

Posthumanism often explores the idea of boundaries between humans and technology becoming less distinct. In the show, Rajni's integration into the Kant family challenges these boundaries. She is treated as a family member, performing both household tasks and emotional roles typically associated with humans. This blurring of boundaries is a central theme, highlighting the posthumanist notion of technology becoming an integral part of human life. The show delves into the complexities of human-technology relationships. Dr. Shantanu Kant's decision to marry Rajnikant raises questions about the nature of romantic and emotional connections with AI and robots. The show explores how humans interact with technology on both practical and emotional levels, reflecting the evolving dynamics in a posthumanist world.

Posthumanism often grapples with ethical dilemmas related to advanced technology. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant presents viewers with ethical questions about Rajni's existence. Is she merely a tool to serve the family, or does she have rights and autonomy? The show's characters confront moral quandaries related to AI and robotics, which align with the ethical discussions prevalent in posthumanist discourse. Posthumanism acknowledges that technology can be a catalyst for societal change. Rajni's presence challenges traditional gender roles within the Kant family. Her ability to perform both domestic and intellectual tasks underscores the transformative potential of technology, reflecting broader discussions in posthumanism about how technology reshapes societal norms.

The presence of Rajni as a humanoid robot within the Kant family immediately challenges traditional family and gender norms. This raises ethical questions about how society defines the roles of daughters-in-law and the expectations placed upon them. The show confronts these norms head-on, highlighting the ethical dilemma of conforming to tradition or embracing change. As Rajni exhibits human-like emotions and behaviours, the Kant family faces ethical questions concerning her rights and autonomy. Does she have the right to make choices, particularly in matters of her own existence and relationships? The show explores the ethical complexities of AI personhood, echoing broader discussions in the field of AI ethics.

Rajni's advanced capabilities, including her ability to monitor and control household systems, introduce concerns related to privacy and surveillance. The Kant family must grapple with the ethical implications of having an entity with such powers within their home. This reflects contemporary debates about privacy in an increasingly technologically connected world. The show uses these ethical dilemmas as a platform for both humour and reflection. It doesn't shy away from the moral complexities but rather presents them in a way that encourages viewers to contemplate their own changing relationship with technology. In doing so, Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant underscores the transformative potential of advanced technology and its capacity to challenge established moral and ethical frameworks.

The show challenges deeply ingrained gender roles and expectations in Indian society. The portrayal of Rajni, a humanoid robot, as a daughter-in-law who can seamlessly balance household chores and intellectual tasks subverts traditional notions of the 'bahu' (daughter-in-law). This reflects evolving attitudes in India towards redefining gender roles and acknowledging the multifaceted capabilities of women. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant cleverly juxtaposes tradition with cutting-edge technology. The Kant family's traditional values and rituals often clash with the presence of Rajni. This mirrors the broader Indian context, where traditional cultural practices coexist with rapid technological advancements, prompting a dynamic cultural dialogue on how the two intersect and influence each other.

The show introduces viewers to AI, robotics, and advanced technology in the context of everyday life. Through Rajni's character, it highlights how AI can seamlessly integrate into domestic spaces, helping with chores, decision-making, and even emotional support. This mirrors the growing integration of AI in daily life in India, from virtual assistants to smart home devices, and prompts viewers to reflect on the implications of this technological shift. The show utilizes humour and satire to comment on societal norms and values. It playfully critiques the idiosyncrasies of familial relationships, human behaviour, and societal expectations. This comedic commentary provides a lens through which viewers can engage in discussions about societal changes and the impact of technology on everyday life. Through its storytelling, the show invites viewers to contemplate how technology is reshaping Indian culture and society while challenging long-standing norms and values.

Donna Haraway's Cyborg Theory is highly relevant to the character of Rajnikant in Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant. Haraway's theory challenges the conventional boundaries that separate humans from machines and emphasizes the hybrid nature of identity. Haraway's Cyborg Theory contends that humans and machines are not distinct entities but interconnected and intertwined. Rajnikant, as a humanoid robot with human-like appearance and behaviour, embodies this blurring of boundaries. She challenges the traditional notion of a daughter-in-law and, by extension, the boundaries of what is considered human within the Kant family. In Haraway's theory, the cyborg represents a hybrid identity that defies rigid categories. Rajni, being both a machine and a family member, embodies this hybridity. She takes on the roles of a traditional daughter-in-law while having the capabilities of a machine, which challenges the fixed roles and identities expected in a family.

The presence of Rajni disrupts the established norms and roles within the Kant family. Her ability to perform household tasks and solve complex problems defies the traditional gender roles, and her marriage to Dr. Shantanu Kant challenges conventional expectations of human-human relationships. These disruptions align with Haraway's idea of the cyborg destabilizing societal norms. Haraway's theory highlights the reconfiguration of social structures and relationships. In Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant, Rajni's presence prompts a re-evaluation of family dynamics. Her interactions with other family members, including Dr. Shantanu, his parents, and siblings, lead to both humorous and thought-provoking moments as they navigate their relationships with this hybrid entity. Haraway's Cyborg Theory also touches on the potential for new forms of existence and the dissolution of traditional boundaries. Rajni's character embodies the posthuman potential of human-technology integration, showcasing the transformative possibilities that advanced technology can bring to domestic life.

Rosi Braidotti's theoretical framework on posthuman subjectivity and the nomadic self provides a valuable lens through which to analyze how Rajnikant's existence challenges conventional subjectivity and gender roles within the Kant family in Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant. Braidotti's work emphasizes the fluid and multiple nature of subjectivity in the posthuman context. Rajnikant's character, with her ability to seamlessly switch between domestic roles and advanced technological functions, exemplifies this fluidity. Her identity shifts between being a daughter-in-law and a technological entity, challenging the fixed subjectivity traditionally associated with family roles. Braidotti's concept of the nomadic self suggests that identities are not centered or fixed but are constantly evolving and influenced by external factors. Rajnikant's presence within the Kant family introduces a non-centralized form of identity. Her ability to adapt to various situations, solve problems, and even make decisions challenges the conventional notion of a fixed and centralized self within the family structure.

Braidotti's framework allows one to analyze how Rajni's existence disrupts traditional gender roles. She can perform tasks typically assigned to male family members, such as handling technical issues, without challenging her identity as a daughter-in-law. This reconfiguration of gender roles aligns with the nomadic self's ability to traverse and adapt to diverse roles and situations. Braidotti's work emphasizes the transformative potential of posthumanism. Rajnikant's character embodies this potential by showcasing how advanced technology can reshape not only individual subjectivities but also family dynamics. Her presence prompts the Kant family members to adapt to a new form of subjectivity, one that integrates technology into the core of their family life. Braidotti's framework encourages the exploration of how technology intersects with identity. Rajni's character serves as a nexus where technology and identity converge.

Rajni vs AI in Popular Films

Comparing and contrasting the themes and ideas in Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant with other works of literature, film, or television that explore posthumanism provides valuable insights. Westworld is a popular science fiction series that explores the blurring of boundaries between humans and AI in a futuristic theme park. Comparatively, both Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant and Westworld examine the ethical dilemmas and moral complexities of human-robot interactions. However, Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant approaches these themes through humor and family dynamics, whereas Westworld takes a darker, more philosophical tone.

Blade Runner, both the original film and its sequel Blade Runner 2049, delve into the concept of replicants, bioengineered humans with advanced AI capabilities. While Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant shares the exploration of AI and human-like entities, it does so in a domestic setting, focusing on family dynamics and humor, whereas Blade Runner emphasizes noir-style storytelling and existential questions.

Ex Machina is a thought-provoking film that explores the relationship between a human and a highly advanced AI, similar to the relationship between Dr. Shantanu Kant and Rajni in Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant. Both works delve into themes of AI ethics, human-robot relationships, and the blurred lines of personhood. However, Ex Machina takes a more intense and psychological approach, while Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant maintains a lighthearted tone.

 Black Mirror is known for its anthology of episodes exploring the dark side of technology and its impact on society. While Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant also delves into technology's impact on society, it does so in a more comedic and family-oriented manner. Black Mirror tends to emphasize dystopian and cautionary narratives, whereas Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant leans towards humor and social commentary.

Directed by S. Shankar, Robot (also known as Enthiran in Tamil) is a science fiction film that revolves around the creation of an advanced humanoid robot, Chitti, by Dr. Vaseegaran. The film explores themes of AI, robotics, and the ethical implications of creating sentient machines. It's a notable Indian work that aligns with posthumanist ideas. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant shares common themes related to posthumanism, AI, and human-technology relationships with other works of literature, film, and television. However, its distinctive approach lies in its combination of these themes with family dynamics, humour, and social commentary, offering a unique lens through which to explore the posthumanist discourse in a domestic Indian context.

The soap opera deftly blurs the boundaries between human and machine, prompting viewers to contemplate the fluid nature of identity and personhood in an age marked by rapid technological advancements. It challenges conventional family dynamics, offering a glimpse into the complexities of human-robot interactions within a traditional Indian household. One of the most notable contributions of Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant is its ability to balance humour with thought-provoking commentary. It uses humour to soften the often weighty ethical and moral dilemmas raised by AI and robotics. By doing so, it engages a broad audience and encourages discussions about societal changes brought about by technology.

In the broader Indian context, the show reflects the evolving attitudes towards technology, AI, and posthumanism. It showcases how these themes intersect with traditional cultural norms and practices, demonstrating the coexistence of tradition and innovation. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant serves as a mirror, prompting viewers to reflect on their own changing relationship with technology and the redefinition of gender roles in contemporary Indian society. Bahu Hamari Rajni Kant is not just a source of entertainment; it is a cultural commentary that navigates the complex terrain of posthumanism, technology, and family dynamics. Through its characters and narratives, it provides a lens through which one can examine the transformation of cultural and societal norms in the age of AI. It invites one to consider the profound ways in which technology is reshaping our understanding of what it means to be human, and in doing so, it makes a significant contribution to the ongoing discourse on posthumanism in Indian popular culture.

*****

Article 1st published in Diotima's: A Journal of New Readings (2023)

References

Bahu Hamari Rajnikant. Written by Sameer Garud, et al., Full House Media, 2016-2017.

Black Mirror. Created by Charlie Broker, House of Tomorrow and Broke and Bones, 2011-present.

Blade Runner. Directed by Ridley Scott, Blade Runner Partnership, 1982.

Blade Runner 2049. Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Columbia Pictures, 2017.

Enthiran. Directed by Shankar, Sun Pictures, 2010.

Ex Machina. Directed by Alex Garland, Film 4 and DNA Films, 2014.

Herbrechter, Stefan. Posthumanism: A Critical Analysis. India, Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.

Gokulsing, K. Moti. Soft-soaping India: the world of Indian televised soap operas. United Kingdom, Trentham Books, 2004.

Lata, Kusum. Family, Gender and Nation in Indian Television Serials: A Sociological Study of Hindi Soap Opera. Germany, Lap Lambert Academic Publishing GmbH KG, 2012.

Mitra, Ananda. Television and Popular Culture in India: A Study of the Mahabharat. India, SAGE Publications, 1993.

Munshi, Shoma. Prime Time Soap Operas on Indian Television. India, Taylor & Francis, 2020.

Nayar, Pramod K.. Posthumanism. Germany, Polity Press, 2018.

Westworld. Created by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy, Warner Bros, et al, 2016-2022.