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Sunday, March 30, 2025

Mathur comes of age...as journalist, writer in 'Ira's Room'

by

Ira Mathur
1542 days ago
20210110

Her large ex­pres­sive eyes and bub­bly An­glo-In­di­an ac­cent have been a sta­ple of T&T’s jour­nal­is­tic land­scape for over 25 years. Last month, Ira Math­ur's pro­lif­ic body of work con­sist­ing of more than 900 columns, most­ly for the Trinidad Guardian, and over two dozen fea­tures and doc­u­men­taries cul­mi­nat­ed in the launch of her web­site, www.iras­room.org

www.iras­room.org show­cas­es Math­ur's on­go­ing life ex­pe­ri­ences as the daugh­ter of an In­di­an army of­fi­cer, spend­ing her ear­ly years nav­i­gat­ing her iden­ti­ty in a coun­try as cul­tur­al­ly and phys­i­cal­ly di­verse as a con­ti­nent and land­ing as a jour­nal­ist and cre­ative writer in a “liv­ing ex­per­i­ment” scarred by colo­nial­ism, but left with un­par­al­leled syn­cretism, dy­namism, and imag­i­na­tion.

Math­ur's web­site, com­plete with pho­tographs, is a week­ly cap­sule and archive of Trinidad since 1995 and fea­tures com­men­tary and hard jour­nal­ism on lo­cal women, crime and pol­i­tics and in­cludes in­ter­views with prime min­is­ters Bas­deo Pan­day, Kam­la Per­sad-Bisses­sar and Dr Kei­th Row­ley; com­mis­sion­ers of po­lice Dwayne Gibbs and Gary Grif­fith, mem­bers of the Ju­di­cia­ry, the en­vi­ron­ment, and the med­ical fra­ter­ni­ty.

It high­lights doc­u­men­taries for CNC3 and TV6 on no­table fig­ures such as first pres­i­dent, Sir El­lis Clarke, No­bel Lau­re­ate Derek Wal­cott, and spe­cial re­ports on pover­ty, the en­vi­ron­ment, and do­mes­tic vi­o­lence.

On the web­site, the In­di­an-born jour­nal­ist al­so serves up pri­vate snap­shots of her world, mak­ing no ex­cus­es for em­brac­ing T&T as her home.

She told Sun­day Guardian re­cent­ly: “I re­mem­ber the sto­ries, but most­ly I think about the peo­ple. The longer I live in Trinidad, the more I’m as­ton­ished that small is­lands like ours; peo­ple of five con­ti­nents thrown to­geth­er by ac­ci­dents of his­to­ry, that some­thing spe­cial per­co­lat­ed.

“Yes, oil spoiled us, and yes there was waste and cor­rup­tion and im­pa­tience at the un­steady work eth­ic, but look what we've be­come when all cul­tures of the old world meshed…

“The New World al­lowed me to be any­body I want­ed to be. Here I am free to re-in­vent my­self. I've had the free­dom to come in­to my own.”

Com­ing in­to her own has set her on a dual course of pur­su­ing jour­nal­ism and cre­ative writ­ing. The lat­ter was re-kin­dled four years ago through in­ter­ac­tions with Bo­cas Lit Fes­ti­val win­ners and es­teemed po­et and play­wright, the late Derek Wal­cott. Her deep af­fec­tion for lit­er­ary arts, how­ev­er, had been ig­nit­ed long be­fore, dur­ing her child­hood years in In­dia.

Her birth­place, Guwa­hati, the daugh­ter of an In­di­an army of­fi­cer, Colonel Ma­hen­dra Math­ur of­ten moved with her par­ents and sib­lings, Varun and Rash­mi. In the cities of post-Colo­nial Shim­la, in Hi­machal Pradesh in the north­east with its snow-capped moun­tains, ex­cit­ing skat­ing rinks and of­fi­cer’s clubs with army bands, Chandi­garh, where she had to learn to speak Pun­jabi, and Ban­ga­lore in the south, Math­ur found her­self avid­ly chron­i­cling the ex­tra­or­di­nary fig­ures that were her par­ents and grand­par­ents. Shield­ed from the day-to-day re­al­i­ties of over 581 mil­lion peo­ple in a frag­ile democ­ra­cy, she lived a “frag­ment­ed” but “mag­i­cal” ex­is­tence, ob­serv­ing her par­ents, whom she de­scribed as the “Great Gats­by cou­ple”, her moth­er in chif­fon and pearls and fa­ther in uni­form, head­ing out for an evening at the of­fi­cers’ mess.

“I prob­a­bly nev­er thought my life would be like theirs. My grand­moth­er’s great-great-grand­fa­ther fought in the In­di­an mutiny (for the British 1857-58). They were all on these very huge can­vass­es. My fa­ther fought in three wars, and my moth­er was and re­mains this ethe­re­al woman from a van­ished world.”

How­ev­er, hav­ing a Mus­lim moth­er and Hin­du fa­ther had its bur­dens.

“On the rare oc­ca­sions we vis­it­ed our ac­tu­al fam­i­lies, we had our splin­tered selves be­cause around our Hin­du fam­i­ly I'd have to re­press the Mus­lim side of me and around the Mus­lim fam­i­ly, I'd have to pre­tend the Mus­lim side didn't ex­ist.”

The army life al­lowed them to es­cape the brunt of ten­sion and the deep love her par­ents had for each oth­er tri­umphed.

Hav­ing mi­grat­ed to To­ba­go in 1975 af­ter her fa­ther was hired as chief en­gi­neer on the Claude Noel High­way con­struc­tion, Math­ur re­called spir­it­ed and bliss­ful pre-teen years liv­ing in Scar­bor­ough at Fort King George. Among Fil­ipino, Chi­nese, Syr­i­an, Afro- and In­do-To­bag­on­ian neigh­bours who be­came “fam­i­ly”, chen­nette and man­go trees and moon­lit nights on Pi­geon Point were her play­grounds.

“That was where my idea of fam­i­ly emerged–not nec­es­sar­i­ly of blood, but the peo­ple whose blood takes you. The peo­ple of To­ba­go were so wel­com­ing and so warm. It was when my moth­er was walk­ing up a hill to Scar­bor­ough that the moth­er of ANR Robin­son gave her a glass of wa­ter and she soon be­came our To­ba­go granny.

“To­ba­go gave us fam­i­ly, free­dom, and beau­ty. When I land in To­ba­go, I know I'm home.”

Mov­ing of­ten meant that Math­ur had to grap­ple with learn­ing dif­fer­ent lan­guages and was nev­er able to mas­ter any of her sub­jects at school. She was on­to her sec­ond de­gree be­fore she found her voice.

In­sist­ing that she be an in­de­pen­dent woman, her fa­ther dragged her to City Uni­ver­si­ty in Lon­don to pur­sue Jour­nal­ism de­spite hav­ing a Lib­er­al Arts de­gree in Pol­i­tics, Eco­nom­ics and Phi­los­o­phy from Trent, Cana­da…and a bro­ken an­kle at the time. There, she be­came a po­lit­i­cal crea­ture, lap­ping up knowl­edge of world is­sues in­clud­ing apartheid, wars and eth­nic con­flicts in Bosnia and the Mid­dle East.

Work­ing af­ter­wards at the Gem­i­ni News Ser­vice in Lon­don which col­lat­ed ar­ti­cles from most­ly de­vel­op­ing coun­tries grap­pling with con­flict, dis­ease and famine set the tone for her jour­nal­ism.

Back home in Trinidad, Math­ur was test­ed ear­ly at her first job as a re­porter for Ra­dio 610 when the Ja­maat-al-Mus­limeen seized Par­lia­ment in the 1990 at­tempt­ed coup. The in­sur­gents sent her a di­rect re­buke for bla­tant­ly de­nounc­ing their ac­tions in BBC Caribbean re­ports.

Math­ur said she felt priv­i­leged to have con­tin­ued her ed­u­ca­tion un­der GATE with an LLB from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don and to have in­ter­act­ed with the likes of William De­mas, Sir El­lis Clarke, Derek Wal­cott, Raoul Pan­tin, Kei­th Smith, George John, Frank Ram­per­sad, and Vidia Naipaul, promi­nent in­de­pen­dent thinkers who have helped shape T&T.

Math­ur said she re­mains strong­ly in­flu­enced by her fa­ther who fought in wars for In­dia, has a “metic­u­lous sense of du­ty”, hav­ing de­vel­oped low­er Scar­bor­ough as a tech­ni­cal of­fi­cer in To­ba­go and made sig­nif­i­cant con­tri­bu­tions to this coun­try as the head of NE­MA and as the au­thor of nine books. She al­so re­gards the lessons of her moth­er, Zia, who is unim­pressed by priv­i­lege and po­si­tion and be­lieves in help­ing the less for­tu­nate.

Math­ur’s web­site can be ac­cessed at www.ira­math­ur.org


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