Fifty-five Pillars, Red Walls

Ralph Waldo Emerson's quote Money often costs too much was my WhatsApp status message for a long time and Fifty-five Pillars, Red Walls by Usha Priyamvada, translated from Hindi by Daisy Rockwell reminded me of it strongly. 

Isn't it ironical that money which assures a lot of freedom can actually tie a person down and thwart a few basic rights? Does financial independence itself come with a heavy price tag? 

The protagonist of this novel , Sushma Sharma, the eldest daughter in her family who's mature, intelligent and well-educated makes us ponder over the above question. Sushma is a lecturer and a warden in a reputed women's college in Delhi. As her family's breadwinner, her responsibilities are many. Her parents' initial reluctance to let Sushma work is gradually replaced by a smug understanding that her income is indispensable to run the household and to secure the future of her younger siblings. Sushma's mother often quips that Sushma is too able and literate and it's hard for them to find her a suitable match.  Though she remarks that  Sushma has been granted complete freedom to find a life partner herself, we realize through the read that this freedom is bogus. 

When Sushma meets Neel, a charming man, few years younger than her in Delhi, desires frozen deep within her begin to thaw. A gentle longing for love and companionship grows in her despite her sincere efforts to nip these changes as they bud. Neel's loving gaze, his wit, humor and child-like persistence; even his silence only draws them closer before Sushma realizes that she is trapped in a quagmire of personal desire conflicting with  familial duties and workplace obligations. 

Sushma's battle with loneliness, her angst at knowing that she will be caged for life within the confines of her workplace (fifty-five pillars, red walls refer to the college) and this angst pushing Neel to a state of despair are all written in a heart rending manner. 

That workplace gossip can be quite harmful and women bear its worst brunt even as they are its worst perpetrators is another subject dealt with in the novel. The friendship between Sushma and Meenakshi (Sushma's colleague) wins our hearts. The novel has a clear film-like quality to it and through the read I couldn't stop fancying Deepti Naval playing the part of Sushma and Vinod Mehra playing that of Neel. 

The book felt broadly similar to a story by Rajee Seth that I read in an anthology Alone Together, translated from Hindi by Ruth Vanita. 

One of my last reads - Taniya by Arupa Patangia Kalita, translated from Assamese by Meenaxi Barkotoki has an introduction penned by author Jahnavi Barua where she writes - "when the original comes effortlessly to you on reading a translation you know it is a job well done". When I read translations from Indian languages I can speak in - Tamil, Malayalam and Hindi, I try/naturally tend to think back on the probable lines in the original language. For this book, I was so deeply invested with Sushma's thoughts, decisions and actions that I skipped this exercise and devoured the book quickly. 

Fifty-five Pillars , Red Walls, a slim classic that poses essential questions, gives us readers a female protagonist we wouldn't forget easily. 

Pankaja

 “This novel wrote itself. I only provided the ink”, writes the author Vasanth Kannabiran about her book ‘Pankaja’, one that paints a vivid picture of the lives of upper caste women of Tamil society in the early 20th century. Chaste and dutiful wives, child brides, women widowed even before they attained puberty or knew their husband’s touch are under focus here. Through the life story of the eponymous character, stories of women related to her by blood and through her marriage, the author keenly gazes at loneliness, ennui in marriage, sexuality, desire, vulnerabilities of men and women. Pankaja is at the center of this world whittled down to about 200 pages, a world we are familiar with, a world which has & hasn't changed much over decades.

The book opens with these lines - “Relaxing in her easy chair in the front yard, Pankaja gazed at the pattern that the morning sun filtering in through the neem leaves cast at her feet”. Pankaja’s life is a landscape of contrasting emotions - joy, grief, love, loss, trust, betrayal - quite like the neem tree that’s known for its bitter fruit, serrated leaves, thick bark and also for its delicate blossoms & healing power.

The above lines (in quotes) reminded me of T Janakiraman’s Wooden Cow, translated from Tamil by Lakshmi Kannan, where the sunlight scattered in luminous dots on the floor, sometimes appearing like the hide of a dappled deer, at other times like that of a leopard to the female protagonist, Ammani hints at how complex our lives are. Both the books - Pankaja and Wooden Cow, fuelled by atrocities faced by widows in the Tamil Brahmin community, have women characters of great strength and resilience who defy social conventions and brave resentment from family and social censure.

Rendered as a bunch of disconnected anecdotes & brimming with characters (which gets tad cumbersome at times), Pankaja throws ample light on a heavily patriarchal and caste-ist society, one where widows are heavily ostracized, where a woman outside the safe, sacrosanct institution of marriage is an easy prey, where bigamy isn’t illegal and men had a wife to manage home and married an educated widow to flaunt their magnanimity. An unflinchingly honest narrative, this feels like dots of a ‘kolam’ (seen on the book cover), waiting to be joined and discerned by us readers. 

I have read Vasanth Kannabiran's translation (from Telugu to English) - Softly Dies a Lake by Akkineni Kutumbarao, a fine instance of an eco-memoir. With this new release by Speaking Tiger publishers, I had a lovely chance to read a work of fiction by the author. Many thanks to the publishers for providing me with a copy of the book. 

Taniya

 

Cotton candy, Cadburys Gems, rose-coloured mint bricks, gold coin chocolates, all things simple and sweet come to our mind as we read Taniya, the story of a 'Tibetan' spaniel who travels from the foot of Bhutan hills to a border town in Assam, first lives with a little girl called Jilmil, then moves into the author’s family where she spends the rest of her life.

As pages turn, we see Arunabh, the author’s son, the author and her husband love and adore Taniya who is synonymous with joy and laughter. Kidnapped by a monkey, slapped by a cat, Taniya’s cute tales, her brave missions, ‘not so brave’ misadventures are many and pop up along the length of the book. Backed by beautiful illustrations, details of how she saves a new car from a gang of thieves, her ability to differentiate between the real ‘Britannia Marie’ biscuits and fake ones, how she matches her pitch and sings when Arunabh plays the mouth organ, her love for hilsa fish and rice, dried cow dung, all unfold jauntily. 

However, the book is not just about naughty tricks & shenanigans of a flurry, doll-like dog. Love and affection between man and animals, interpersonal relationships in family and community are explored with tenderness that take your heart to its melting point. 

Delicately woven into Taniya’s tale is a crisp picture of everyday life in this region, one that's led in harmony with nature. There is also a generous sprinkle of relationship terms (khura, khuri, pehi, bordeuta), flora and fauna terms (sewali tree, togor trees, night jasmine, star jasmine, tiger lilies) and the food people eat. 

The author is fondly referred to as a home sparrow (ghonsirika) for she flits from one subject to another while telling stories. And we love these little information pockets; they are like breads served on separate quarter plates but highly essential to complete a meal. By adopting a conversation-like style, asking us to protect her little secrets, the author makes this read really delectable. The questions she raises in between leaves us in silent contemplation for sometime. For instance, 'Have you ever been to a place which is at the border of a country? Do you know anything about areas that separate countries?' , now these aren't asked in a condescending manner, there's an earnest interest to share information and enlighten us readers, both young and old. 

The emotions, both light are profound are adroitly handled in Meenaxi Barkotoki’s translation. An introduction penned by author Jahnavi Barua, notes by the translator, author fact file and the endnotes are icing on the cake. 

Even as I began reading Taniya, Arupa Patangia Kalita’s stories The Half-burnt bus at Midnight, Arunima’s Motherland from her collection Written in Tears came rushing to my mind. Known for writing ‘real’ stories from the world she inhabits, from experiences - lived and observed, Taniya, the only book the author wrote for children, is no different. Mostly lively, also immensely moving, Taniya is a celebration of love and compassion, a perfect pick for the Christmas holiday season. Pet owner or not, one shouldn't miss out on this little book, an extremely cute and heartwarming read.

Mansur

 

Mansur was an early 17th century Mughal nature painter who rose to limelight under the aegis of emperor Jahangir. Known for his realistic paintings of flora & fauna, his mastery earned him the moniker 'Ustad'. His painting of a turkey cock earned him the honor 'Nadir ul-Asr' (meaning Rarity of the Present). His painting of a dodo, made looking at a live specimen, was a sensation when showcased at the International Ornithological Congress at Helsinki in 1958. And it is on 27th Feb, 1627 as Mansur is working on the details of the dodo’s eye in his workroom that this book Mansur by Vikramajit Ram begins.

In the initial chapters, we are acquainted with who’s who as we take a tour of the imperial atelier, the library and women's quarters in Agra. We also learn a little of emperor Jahangir’s family, his equations with his father, children & grandchildren. As the story unfolds, a world of earnest ambition, immense talent & rich imagination is thrown open and we meet other Mughal artists like Abu’l Hasan (the Nadir uz-Zaman/Rarity of the Age), Bichitr (as peculiar as his name). It is a world where one’s creativity earns open reverence and secret spite & envy too. 

"From decades of studying furred and feathered beasts, Mansur has come to understand that, of the myriad emotions granted to sentient beings, discontent is the exclusive preserve of humankind." 

In prose that moves languorously, that’s as beautiful as nastaliq, we are privy to the closely guarded secrets, fierce competition, misconceptions and petty rivalries among the characters. Mansur’s impending trip with the emperor to Verinag, an important jewel-like verse book whose pages he has decorated with fine art work of butterflies that’s to be presented to the empress Nur Jahan on her 50th birthday are key props that sustain a sense of foreboding. 

From a stonecutter’s son to to an orphaned art apprentice to an artist who works on borders during Akbar’s reign to attaining resplendent fame under Jahangir, Mansur’s life journey unfolds delicately like a pencil tracing in this slim read. Bichitr's painting of emperor Jahangir preferring a Sufi shaykh to kings, Abu'l Hasan's portrait of Jahangir shooting the head of Malik Ambar are brought to life in the author's words in this book. An artist's supplies, the different hued pigments in mussel shells described vividly in great detail are a treat to read. 

Stories of Mughal kings, their wars & conquests, stories from the Zenena are plenty. But historical fiction that offers a beautiful peek into the lives of venerated painters in the Mughal court is pretty unique, quite like what Mansur’s epithet reflects. 

The Birth Lottery and Other Surprises

 

Shehan Karunatilaka begins The Birth Lottery and Other Surprises with a note ‘How to read the collection?’ and advises ‘never in sequence’. Still, he guides us through the broad categories his stories fall into showing he cares for the reader’s moods. Doing this, he has us impressed even before the collection of 30 stories (some very short and others long) has begun for we all know that a reader's mood is as unpredictable as vagaries of monsoon in the subcontinent.

It is exceptional how despite maintaining an amazingly funny tone in his stories, he is mighty serious about his craft and its import. He embeds facts, his country’s turbulent history and politics within fiction. For instance, No.One.Cares on the outset feels like a young, depressed man’s attempt to garner attention on social media but gradually reveals how the country’s autocratic regime has silenced many voices of dissent. Time Machine, Assassin’s Paradise, The Eyes Have It are other stories that brim with such intricately woven facts. Our heads teem with names when we are done with the above stories - JR Jayawardene, Sarojini Yogeswaran, Ranjan Wijeratne, Anagarika Dharmapala to name a few. 

Easy Tiger, Baby Monitor and Second Person impress us with twists, a delectably unique way of handling infidelity in marriage. Hugs, The 1969 Game, If You’re Sad and You Know It feel bizarre to start with before ending in beautiful & important messages. 

I would love to know Elon Musk’s reaction when he reads the opening piece - ‘A self-driving car’s thoughts as it crashes’. The titular story, in 42 vignettes, shows how one's birth over which one has no control is a tragedy/travesty of one's existence, an offbeat exploration of the question - 'How many births before attaining nibbana?' 

The Colonials and My Name is not Malini are interesting stories that depict how for the economically weaker sections of the society, freedom is an elusive concept even after the island nation is free from its foreign rulers. 

Shehan’s stories sparkle with wit, sardonic humor and imagination that can be described by adjectives only in superlative. His stories move beyond the moral and conventional norms. He’s brazen when he writes about the Sri Lankan civil war, human rights violation, adultery in marriages, messy college music-fest or nasty office politics. He is fiercely fearless as he washes his nation’s dirty linen in public and exposes the failures of his countrymen, people of his race and religion. This audacity truly deserves accolades, especially in today’s times when it's easier to label someone a traitor and the definition of patriotism is highly skewed. 

“Criticizing your country is not an act of treason. It is an act of love”, he writes in the story Assassin's Paradise and we can only pray that every country has a share of writers and readers who firmly believe in this. I must admit that though this audacity leaves us awestruck in some stories , it also leaves us cringing at few other places. 

Of the thirty entries that make this collection, the short ones are all winners, they're little surprises. Among the longer ones, The Ceylon Islands, Time Machine (though this one gets tedious), No.One.Cares, The Capital of Djibouti and Easy Tiger are favorites. 

If you (like me) love short stories, prefer them to a novel to sample an author’s writing style or if you wish to stay away from the much hyped award-winning novels by the author for the time being, The Birth Lottery and other Surprises published by Hachette India is a wonderful option. The stories here brace us for the author’s worldview and his way with words. Demanding the reader's  complete attention and patience, even re-read at places, The Birth Lottery and Other Surprises is a wonderful miscellany. Quirky, thought-provoking from start to end, it is packed with truth bombs and many surprises pop up all along. 

The People of the Indus

 

The People of the Indus by Nikhil Gulati with Jonathan Mark Kenoyer begins with a quote by Ursula Le Guin - “History is not a science, it's an art”. And, history, the account of an enigmatic & prosperous bronze age civilization, the Indus civilization (3200-1900 BCE), is rendered in a comic format in stunning illustrations in abt 160 pages. 

Nikhil Gulati says that the book is the result of intrigue after his chance visit to Lothal, Gujarat when he was a college student. Backed by Dr. Kenoyer’s (the field director of Harappa Archaeological survey since 1986) valuable inputs, this book by visually representing history not just makes it palatable but extremely delightful.

Organized into five chapters, the book begins by taking us back in time to Mohenjo Daro at 2600 BCE. A ubiquitous, bespectacled narrator in kurta and jeans takes us on a journey, first highlighting the well-planned urban settlements with an ingenious underground drainage system - the hallmark of this civilization & then offering a glimpse of daily lives of people - their occupations, crafts and trade practices.

From detailing the popular Great Bath, dancing girl statue, Zebu bull, steatite seals and carnelian beads to many lesser known facts, similarities and differences with Mesopotamian and Egyptian civilizations, weaving in a story of a family of coppersmiths who arrive at Mohenjodaro for a fortune & a family of scribes who leave the drying Ghaggar valley eastwards to Yamuna, the book is mighty comprehensive. The last two chapters on writing practices in these civilizations & reasons for decline of the Indus civilization after flourishing for 700 years on the banks of the rivers Indus and Ghaggar are more intricate.

A page showing the important sites of Indus civilization

 A glimpse of illustrations in the book

Few wordless pages full of illustrations that depict the discovery of beads and its use in jewelry deserve special mention, the author’s painstaking effort here is symbolic of how tedious the archaeological research process is.

The People of the Indus, like Lego Classic blocks, appeals to a big age group - 9 to 99 yrs. Let this brilliant graphic novel grace your bookshelves with its presence.

Hymns in Blood

 

"A wayward and stubborn lad whose failings far outweighed his virtues had become such an integral part of her consciousness! They were just a couple of kids playing hide-and-seek and messing around in the mud. When did this lovebug decide to establish its permanent residence in her heart?" - Naseem ponders over her feelings for Yusuf in this story.

Like Naseem, we readers wonder what made Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims who thrived in harmony butcher each other mercilessly even as independence from the British was turning into a reality. Men plundered, murdered and raped with an unprecedented vengeance and frenzy.

The author laments this loss of humanity, territorial unity and fraternal ties, a heavy price paid for freedom in his foreword to the book, one that clearly reveals his emotional angst, the deep hurt of a survivor of vicious times.

Set in a village Chakri, on the banks of river Soan, 30 miles from Rawalpindi, Hymns in Blood published in 1948, the author claims is neither entirely fiction nor a historic text, it's a story that flows between the two banks of imagination and reality.

"But there’s this funny thing about humans, old or young, educated or unlettered, all of them possess two strong emotions - love and hatred". And we see these two emotions in a maniacal tug of war in a small village in undivided Punjab as it slips from fun-filled Lohri celebrations to a blood soaked Holi in the year 1947.

Those who defend their vulnerable neighbors willing to risk their own lives are pitted against those who run amok like a rogue elephant when the bloodbath begins. The former are clearly outnumbered but their deeds are a testimony to the spirit of humanity which this novel pays a tribute to.

Despite the heavy subject, the book is a page-turner offering great insight into sights, sounds and flavors of rural Punjab. An informative afterword and dazzling translation by the author's grandson, Navdeep Suri allows an intimate connect.

An elegy for a divided land & broken relationships, Hymns in Blood is classic from the father of the Punjabi novel.

Had I read this book before Amit Majumdar's The Map and The Scissors, I would have believed existence of communal harmony as an absolute truth, tampered by divisive British politics or thwarted by a single leader's obstinacy. The foreword in Hymns in Blood suggests something similar. But there have been many disruptions to communal amity in decades before Indian independence. Even The Map and the Scissors doesn't entirely detail these episodes but provides ample pointers for further reading and research. Therefore, Nanak Singh's Hymns in Blood is to be read from an emotional perspective rather than a politically or historically accurate point of view. It serves as a reminder of how sectarian violence/communal discord shatters lives irreparably and leaves an indelible scar for generations. Khoon De Sohile (translated as Hymns in Blood) has a sequel Agg di Khed, which will soon be released as A Game of Fire, translated by Navdeep Suri and published by Harper Collins. Definitely looking forward to read it too!

If There is a God : Short Stories

 

If There is a God is a collection of ten stories by Imayam where the sharp portrayal of reality makes one wonders if this is a work of fiction. Commonplace scenarios, emotions and challenges flood the pages making every story dazzle with relatability.

Women form the backbone of these stories. They clearly understand the driving forces of society and are resilient. Some are highly pragmatic and some extremely sentimental but they all fight their circumstances valiantly irrespective of whether they win or succumb. It's noteworthy that Imayam chooses names for his women characters with care. When most women stay away from graveyards in fear of being possessed by evil spirits, 'No Fear in the Burial Ground' portrays a woman who digs graves without fear for the rich and poor, for the revered and orphaned ones. Imayam names her 'Sita', one who welcomes the dead onto the lap of 'Bhoomadevi', her mother. Likewise, 'Kannagi' rages against injustice in the titular story.  

The character Selvakumar from the story ‘Santha’ mutters in frustration ‘Females are the same everywhere’ and Imayam leaves no stone unturned to point out that their predicament and plight is also the same everywhere. If the opening story (Over in a Moment) playfully introspects how a couple’s sexual intimacy changes over years after marriage, the longest story (The Dubai Man’s Wife) on a married woman’s infidelity raises the question ‘life or honour, which is more important’ vociferously.

Men, too share their woes here - a peon yearns for little self respect at his workplace in ‘Saar’ and an old man laments the loss of his birthplace, his ancestral home in ‘The Maniyakarar House’. 

Caste is an important marker in these stories with focus not only on top-down oppression but on how power & money changes equations even within the same rung. Contemporary and important issues like how COVID-19 killed not only humans but humanity, the ubiquitous ‘cash for votes’ during elections and child sexual abuse appear in stories here.

The translation by Prabha Sridevan that offers a glitch-free reading experience was intimate enough to let me map in my head the probable lines in original, in rural Tamil argot.

“If there was no stomach and no hunger, man would not need to suffer any indignity”.

“Are courts and the police meant only for those who have money?”

Imayam’s stories, layered with crucial questions/observations, emphasize the need for moral integrity and empathy; two qualities that humans conveniently lack, the dearth of which often makes him utter ‘If there is a God’.

A ‘true to life’ collection of stories, a fine place to start reading the author. 

Additional Titbits:

Imayam (pen name of V Annamalai), a school teacher and writer, received the Sahitya Akademi award in the year 2020 for his work Sellada Panam. He rejects labels like feminist writer, Dalit writer and vehemently asserts that his works be known and judged for their literary merit.

During the book launch, the translator Prabha Sridevan explains how translation into English is never an easy task and leaves gaps in conveying emotions taking a simple instance - vandhaar and vandhaan, the two Tamil words translate into ‘he came’ in English but the former clearly indicates respect and the latter lacks it. She has also translated R Chudamani’s Echoes of Veena and other stories and Meeran’s Stories, both published by Ratna Books.

The beautiful cover design is done by Anshul Milan.

The Inconceivable Idea of the Sun

 

“I don’t take genre labels seriously. We must not let a division of labor become a division of laborers. This goes for writers as well as readers. Personally, I read the way a goat eats; that is, anything and everything. I hope you do too”, these lines from the author’s bio encouraged me to pick his collection - The Inconceivable Idea of the Sun, my first ‘proper’ attempt at reading spec-fic.

The book has a buoyant start with an offbeat table of contents and introduction. The strength of the collection lies in how the author picks very ‘real’, commonplace scenarios like a mother’s separation anxiety on her child’s first day at school (in ‘Archipelago’), a father’s inability to adjust with his grown-up daughter in her home in a new land (in ‘Into the Night’), a nervous young lady trying to settle down in her boyfriend’s orthodox household (in ‘God’s Own Country’), a man working hard to not feel bitter with his ex-wife’s husband (in ‘Robots of Eden’) and leaps into ‘surrealism’. 

The titular story where too many books in shelves get overwhelming for a bibliophilic couple and ‘The Mind-Body Problem where a young man leads a life of dual identities are other favorites.

Three (of the total 15) entries here felt more like essays than stories. ‘How not to tell Ramayana’ is a clinical analysis of the question - what makes Ramayana so attractive for retelling? ‘Aqua Biographica’ that describes the arduous journey of every writer/storyteller provides a befitting end.

What happens when Lord Shiva is bored of being the 'destroyer' ? A pair of talking parrots atop a silk cotton tree change the tales that an old, chaste Brahmin narrates, he switches from highly austere tales of eight Puranas and Ramayana to the erotica from Sringarasataka and Ujjavala Nilamani, but how? 

Under the cover of lively prose, the author ambushes us readers with some thought-provoking questions - Can over dependence on technology make us ‘digital paraplegics’? Are traditional rites and rituals of any use? Will people acquire ‘textually transmitted diseases’ in future? 

As a novice to the genre, reading these MIND-BENDING stories was no cake-walk, I had to develop the 'lusory attitude' that the author claims is essential for a spec-fic enthusiast. The ‘Contexts’ section in the end helped me understand stories that felt fuzzy initially. With a drizzle of philosophy, a dip into the paranormal and a bite of Hindu epics offered, this is quite an eclectic mix!

Battlefield

 

This book reminded me of George Orwell’s Notes on Nationalism. Orwell’s strands of thoughts on colonialism, nationalism and anti-semitism are woven into this slim work of fiction - Battlefield by Vishram Bedekar, originally published as Ranaangan in the year 1939, translated from Marathi by Jerry Pinto.

“If we’re thinking of Nationalism as revenge, if this becomes rooted in our history as a way of thinking, what becomes of man’s evolution? I shudder to think”.

“Perhaps the boundaries of narrow patriotism need to be broken all over the world.”

“The Nazi philosophy seemed to see the nation as an avenging angel, flaming sword in hand, righting wrongs that might be real or imagined”.

"My mother was born in Poland. I was born in Berlin. My children, should I have any, will be born in Shanghai. When your grandmother is Polish and your mother is German, and you are Chinese for whom will you fight?"

Europe is on the brink of WWII. Chakradhar Vidhwans feels it is wise to leave London and return home to Mumbai, India. On the ship back home, he meets Herta, a Jewish young woman forced to flee her home in Germany and seek exile in Shanghai. Many like Herta, heavily persecuted by Germany, are also headed to Shanghai, unsure of their future.

Chakradhar, who’s nursing a heartbreak, vows to make merry on the ship for two weeks before disembarking at Mumbai. Herta who has lost her job, home, love of her life, everything for being a Jew, is intent on clinging onto the smallest sliver of hope. She cares a hoot for the morals of the world that has shut her out. A heady mix of romance & desire brews between the two leading to a passionate, short-lived, plangent with melancholy affair.

“When you need a drink, you go and get one and you are rejuvenated. Which hotel you drink in does not matter.” - Chakradhar’s thoughts on desire for women’s company (there are more such lines) may feel misogynistic and irksome. But I pushed his notions and the romance between him and Herta to the background for Herta wouldn’t have been on the ship and would’ve led a quotidian life in Germany if the Nazis didn’t drive her out. The circumstances that brought them together were more important than their state of togetherness itself, for me. The little titbits of history on 'comfort women' from England ushered to service the French soldiers and a very rich arms dealer called Basil Zaharaoff (1848-1936), Shanghai being the home for Jews who fled Germany before WWII grabbed my attention more than the melodramatic love story itself. 

The ship, a tunnel of light and dark, is a microcosm of the world we lived/live in where human beings estrange and exploit those different from themselves (based on race, color, gender and religion) with an inexplicable madness. And for highlighting this, Battlefield, a classic stays extremely relevant.

Alka and other Stories

 

Goutam Das’s Alka and other stories packs fifteen short stories, translated from Bengali by Ratna Jha.

Most stories here are set within the family fold and delve deeply into relationships between family members. There are stories (‘Awake’, ‘Duty-Bound’, ‘Courtesy of Rain’, ‘A Change of Mind’) where the family is a tightly knit unit, its members earnestly care for each other. And there are stories (‘A Tale from Anandganj’, ‘Alka’, ‘The Servant’, ‘Second Birth’) where complete strangers shower love and care just like one’s own kith and kin.

While most stories brim with positivity and have neat closures on a hopeful note, two stories, quite like a kink in the graph - ‘Cuckoos’ and ‘The Cremation Ground’ are immensely moving and sad, these are my favorites too. 

The story ‘Wish’ about a bank employee who opts for voluntary retirement to dedicate more time to his interests - reading & writing despite everyone around dissuading him from doing so closely mirrors the author’s life.

The characters in these stories are mostly uncomplicated beings, quick to forgiving human error. Though these stories are mostly restricted to the domestic sphere, the author adds titbits of Bengali socio-cultural scape, the widely prevalent economic divide and political rivalry in hinterland claiming innocent lives in the background. 

There’s abundant love for Rabindra Sangeet as the first verse written by Tagore (‘Jol Poday Pata noday’ which translates to ‘water falls and the leaves move’) & many others poems (Tumi Sandhyar Meghamala, Amar Praner Poray Cholay) feature regularly. There is even a mention of the famed love story between Chandidas and Rami. 

Grandparents here enjoy telling stories from Thakurmar Jhuli to their grandchildren. The author also acquaints us with the tradition of Baul (folk) songs too in his story ‘Human Gems’. Sounds of the seaside, boatman’s oars cracking up the river, Chandi paath during Durga Puja and Baul songs from Jaidev mela adorn the story ‘The Poetry of Sound’. The mention of rain, dark clouds, fragrant swarna champa flowers, magpie robins, food like khichudi, hilsa fry, luchis, nolen gur sandesh are a feast to the senses. The translation by Ratna Jha offers a comfortable reading experience. 

In the story 'The Servant', a loyal servant unlocks his master's mind to some essential questions on life; likewise the simple stories here collectively move 'something' in us, help us slow down and appreciate the little beautiful things around us. 

Perfect for weekend or ‘de-stress’ reading, in genteel and compassionate storytelling, this book’s a nice bunch of stories. 

A History of Objects

 

A History of Objects by Carlo Pizzati is a collection of 23 short stories (more precisely 22, the first story ‘The Hard Drive’ is a prelude to the book) with each story named after a certain object. From the mundane sweater, a pair of shoes or slippers, a bench, an umbrella to the currently obsolete VHS tape, the recently ubiquitous mask and hand sanitizer, there are many objects that find a place here. In some stories, these objects are clearly the focal point, in some these are catalysts that precipitate life-changing events and in others they only make a guest appearance.

Apart from taking us places - Italy, Germany, the USA, India & Philippines in his stories, the author gives us an array of diverse characters and a gamut of emotions to explore. His writing is lucid, carefree & marked with ‘dry’ humor and ‘out of the box’ imagination. One cannot predict when the object in the title will appear in the story or how it will alter its course. For instance, everything in the stories ‘The Teddy Bear’, ‘The Candy Box’ is far from ‘mushy cute’ or innocent, there’s nothing scandalous in ‘The VHS tape’ and nothing related to rain/greenery in ‘The Umbrella’. These stories, mostly open-ended, are differently structured too - story within a story as in ‘The Coconut Scraper’, starting from the end and moving backwards in ‘The Slippers’, a series of interconnected vignettes in ‘The Teddy Bear’. 

It is no secret that objects are reserves of stories & memories, they have a life of their own. But not all objects are embodiments of nostalgia - with cached ‘sweet’ memories waiting to tumble out, the author points out. Here a wind-up cockroach toy and a mantlepiece fish destroy relationships, a portrait warns a man of his future, a man changing his baby’s diapers vows to turn vegetarian. Characters in these stories largely suffer from self-doubt, depression, failed relationships and heartbreak. There is an undercurrent of violence and dysfunctionality. A young man who announces he's gay to his family and is looking for acceptance, a woman who cannot open herself to the love of mortals on Earth openly embracing the skies, men and women authors debating about the idea of equality as preached by feminism - their stories lie curled up within the objects that appear in these stories. 

Reality in fiction gets an expression as the author incorporates Monica Ghurde murder case & MV Greenpeace voyage in his stories and even lends an autobiographical ‘feel’ to some parts.

A quirky potpourri of stories (better savored slowly) where objects are as potent as characters in flesh and blood.

The Puppet's Tale

 

“We are but puppets; an Invisible One is pulling the strings''. Most of us dance along to the whims of this invisible puppeteer, but some desire freedom, protest constantly for greater control, they either rebel till their strings break or are forced to a meek surrender. The Puppet’s Tale (Puthulnacher Ithikatha in Bengali) by Manik Bandyopadhyay, deftly translated by Ratan Kumar Chattopadhyay, in bare bones is about how ‘all the world’s a stage’ and the show’s always on.

Shashi, the protagonist, a Calcutta-trained doctor returns to his ancestral village Gaodiya. Torn between ethics, selfless service and his personal desires, he tends to villagers with great care and commitment, a far cry from his father, Gopal Das who’s the village usurer. Shashi’s world is largely shaped by his friend Kumud, a free-willed & headstrong man, Kusum, a capricious & enigmatic young woman from Gaodiya for whom his love blossoms only to die of neglect over time, Bindu, his sister whose life’s irrevocably changed by her affluent husband and Jadab Pandit, a holy man who embraces death at his will at a self-ordained time.

Just like contrast sharpens a picture, the author by portraying opposite forces at play within us humans and in society adds depth to the story. The tussle between village and city life, tradition and modernity, Ayurveda and English medicine, rational/scientific logic and superstition, believer and atheist, the many contradictions that confound the human mind makes the novel’s lifeforce.

The father-son relationship here, fraught with tension, is a luminous example of the above, we notice that Gopal feels insecure as his son Shashi’s popularity and reverence grows. He is definitely concerned about Shashi’s health and lifestyle but would like to have him under his thumb all the time. This is evident as Gopal mulls -

“When the son is grown up, what a difficult task it turns out to be to interact with him. Not a friend, not a debtor, not a boss, god knows in what relationship a man stands with his adult son.”

It is notable that the author chooses to start the novel with death of a certain villager, Haru Ghosh, who is scorched to death by lightning during a thunderstorm at the village’s banyan grove but places immense importance on Haru’s family members- his daughter, son and daughter-in-law, they are characters who have a huge hand in propelling the narrative forward.

The first half, markedly slow, demands reader’s attention & patience for we have to understand a motley bunch of characters, each one multi-dimensional and mysterious. By detailing how they talk and act, the author teases us into analyzing how their minds work; the second half flies by effortlessly.

Manik Bandyopadhyay took to writing after his debut short story ‘Atasi Mami’, written to fulfil a challenge thrown in the college canteen to get himself published in a reputed magazine in three months’ time, earned him laurels and fame. Over a literary career of nearly 25 years, plagued by abject poverty, alcoholism and illness like epilepsy, his works bore the clear intent to expose unabashedly the bleak reality of life, the meanness hidden in civil society. Mostly set against the rural backdrop, his works dwelled on unravelling the complicated schemes of the human mind. 

 

And in matters relating to human mind, his acumen is rare and astonishing. 

This is evident as he writes –

 

“In every human being, there dwells a child who loves to play at any hour with poetic perceptions of the mind, with its imagination, its bizarre unreality, and its craziness.”

 

“The world is a web of truth and falsehood. Falsehood has significance too. A lie can even reign perpetually as truth”.

 

“A single spark had set a dry thatch on fire; no one had the power to extinguish it. He realized for the first time today that the collective opinion of people with whom we have no relation whatsoever in our daily lives could grow into an ineluctable, blind and ruthless force.”

 

 

I read 3 Stories by Manik Bandyopadhyay, published by Bee Books, translated by Arunava Sinha two years back and it served as a good primer to understanding the author’s writing style. The Puppet’s Tale, ably translated by Ratan Kumar Chattopadhyay, only widened my understanding of the author’s ideas, beliefs and written word. The foreword by Samantak Das on the author’s debut short story and his foray into writing is not to be missed. The Boatman of the Padma translated by Ratan Kumar Chattopadhyay and published by Orient Blackswan is another book I wish to read by the author - a literary giant of the modern classic Bengali literature, one of the Bandyopadhyay triumvirate. 

A classic by a master storyteller, The Puppet’s Tale is a ‘realistic’ chronicle of life and human frailty. 

Going: Stories of Kinship

 

Going: Stories of Kinship by the eminent poet-writer Keki N Daruwalla consists of five stories centered around family relationships and kinship ties.

A young man, Vikram throws a bomb at a tea-estate bungalow in Dibrugarh, Assam. But is this a terror attack by a ‘hungry for independence’ Indian rebel or an act of personal vendetta? In three sections linking the past to the present, the first story ‘The Brahmaputra Trilogy’, delves on a son-father relationship where the son’s not kosher. Set in the period between WWI-II and its immediate aftermath, the evocative writing here renders a series of daguerreotypes of India under British rule. Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies, shots fired from .410 muskets, the mist covered Brahmaputra river with foam drenching its banks, the smoke from a steam ferry on the river feel real and stay in our head long after the story is over.

The story ‘Daughter’ set in a Parsi family in Delhi examines how history (the battle of Kudesia and Nahavand, Yezdegard - the Iranian king & the Arab general, Mosanna), racial attitude and memories drives a wedge between a father and daughter.

Highly nuanced, well layered and extremely insightful of the culture, communities and the time period, these two stories, each about 40 pages long, are huge favorites in the collection. That the locals are irked with the steady inflow of Bengalis, Santhals and Biharis who come to work in the tea gardens in Assams under goras is evident and touched upon in The Brahmaputra Trilogy. The traditions and beliefs of the Parsis (their menstrual taboos sent a mild shockwave in me), the realization that their community faces the threat of near extinction due to celibacy, late marriages, sterility and inbreeding is brilliantly woven into the story.

Men who willingly renounce everything to embrace solitude are principal characters in ‘The Bird Island’ and ‘The Long Night of the Bhikshu’. In the former, a reticent son remains ‘missing’ for his parents for 10 years. In the latter, a man deserts his home, village & faith, switches Gods, talks only to a scarecrow and roams like a mendicant but is unable to cut ties with his mother who unfailingly appears in his dreams.

‘Going’ is an immensely moving story of a woman who’s closer to her maternal grandmother than her mother. By a sense of intuition, she arrives at her grandmother's home to be with her in her final moments but does she ‘really’ manage to be there by her side? A poignant tale of a grandmother-granddaughter who miss out on a few ‘crucial’ moments in each other’s lives though they have been there for each other otherwise. The green barbets in a human-like chatter, the measured movements of peahen-peacock - the description of many birds that flock the grandmother’s house’s garden are absolutely beautiful.

Keki N Daruwalla’s writing taps into the subliminal and gently wakes you up to your own experiences. There is a quiet magic about this poet's prose.  

“Postponement is only another form of neglect. When I put something off I don’t just slot it on another diary page. I erase it from the mind. The mind is used to erasures, but nothing is wiped clean for good. Everything has a clock of its own, each anxiety, each problem and you choose to face or shove under the rug” (from the story Going).

“Memory was a flame and there was a lot of dry tinder in the void of his heart” (from The Brahmaputra Trilogy).

He delves deep into human emotions and relationships, portrays them with a certain tenderness and sensitivity and cushions them well with additional details of history, traditions and culture. For instance, this in my limited experience feels so true -

“When the aged are correcting you it means they feel that they are still in charge. It is when they consent to whatever you say that you need to be wary” (from Going).

 “Tranquility is not a garment one can put on. It has to descend on you on its own”. And it does, in Keki N Daruwalla’s words. A BRILLIANT collection! 

A little about the author:

Keki N Daruwalla, a former Indian Police service officer, is an eminent poet and writer. Recipient of the Padma Shri award, he received the Sahitya Akademi award in the year 1984 for his poetry collection The Keeper of the Dead, the one he returned in the year 2015 after the death of Dr MM Kalburagi, in wake of rising intolerance and the threat to freedom of expression in writing, citing that the Akademi didn’t stand up for beleaguered writers. The story ‘Going’ from here features in his collection - A House in Ranikhet, ‘The Bird Island’ in the collection Island and ‘The Long Night of the Bhikshu’ is available online on The Indian Quarterly site. I would have loved to see a little endnote on when each of these stories were written and if they appear in the author’s other collections. Going - stories of kinship published by Speaking Tiger Books is an amazing primer, a marvelous short read, that teases us to read more written by the author.

Cold Enough for Snow

 

"I had one vague, exhausted thought that perhaps it was all right not to understand all things, but simply to see and hold them".

When an author writes what you have been thinking about, you get a little friendlier with the author, and the book begins to feel extra nice. 

Possibly as a loose extension of that quote, I have begun to appreciate books without a plot, books where I care less about the names of characters or where they hail from and like to engross myself in observing what they do. The comfort to volitionally pick such books got real with Jhumpa Lahiri's Whereabouts. The writing, I feel, in such books is delicate, clearly rejuvenating, as if the words here have an additional job of calming the reader who's annoyed at the lack of a plot. 

The New York Times reviews Cold Enough for Snow by Jessica Au with the following headline - A Mother and Daughter go sightseeing. They see each other. Now this's a crude one line approximation of this deceptively simple and beautiful novella.

A daughter (the unnamed narrator) and her mother travel to Tokyo and as they see different sites, a swirl of memories - memories they remember clearly, others safely forgotten and many they pretend are hazy, envelopes them gently. 

"Earlier in the year, I had asked her to come with me on a trip to Japan. We did not live in the same city anymore, and had never really been away together as adults, but I was beginning to feel that it was important, for reasons I could not yet name".

Walking through the cemetery at Aoyama, visiting a large outdoor museum in Koganei Park, a church in Osaka, over admiring artwork, having food and reading horoscopes, over little conversations, often punctuated by deep silences, the mother and daughter share many things between them and convey quite a lot (though not explicitly) to us readers. The daughter reflects on her university days, her first job as a waitress in the restaurant, her relationship with her boyfriend, her thoughts on having children. 

She mulls over the frugality she feels she has inherited from her mother, the need to be desired even when she isn't sure if she really likes the person who desires her, the urge to be diligent and perfect even when no one's steadfast about it. 

However, not all is self introspection as the love story of her maternal uncle, the tantrums her elder sister threw as a kid at their maternal grandfather's funeral, a visit to her boyfriend's father's house and kayaking across a crater lake add layers. 

The writing is highly evocative creating a montage of images. The attention to detail is immaculate - the description of a nature trail, a convenience store highly elaborate. However, this doesn't make the read cumbersome for it is of the 'right' length. There is a mild philosophical touch to the words, for instance -

 "Nowadays, she said, people were hungry to know everything, thinking that they could understand it all, as if enlightenment were just around the corner. But, she said, in fact there was no control, and understanding would not lessen any pain. The best we could do in this life was to pass through it, like smoke through the branches, suffering, until we either reached a state of nothingness, or else suffered elsewhere".

"By looking indirectly at the thing they wanted to focus on, they were sometimes able to see it even more clearly than with their own eyes." 

Cold Enough for Snow through the ruminations of a daughter-mother duo makes us see/recall some of our own memories clearly, making them 'warm enough' for us to embrace.

On a River's Bank

On a River’s Bank by A Madhavan, translated from Tamil by M Vijayalakshmi, explores environmental degradation as a result of over exploitation of nature. Published in 1974 as Punalum Manalum, it’s an early, notable instance of what is now termed as ‘eco-fiction’. 

The novella is set in Vallamedu (a place near Trivandrum as hinted by the mention of Marudan Kuzhi dam), the site of confluence of two rivers - Kottaiyaru and Perumanaiyaru. Sand harvesting is the most important commercial activity for the inhabitants on the riverfront. 

Angusami, a well respected 50 yr old man who knows the river like the back of his hand, a star employee of the sand contractor for several years; Damodaran, a diligent and well-mannered young man who’s like a son to Angusami; Panki, a young woman & Angusami’s step daughter who’s an object of revulsion for her ugly looks are the three principal characters. 

Panki labours hard at the riverfront and at home yet elicits nothing but extreme hatred from Angusami. Damodaran, her only friend, serves as a bridge between her and Angusami. Over time, sand dredging alters the river's course and its banks shrink. Swelling menacingly under torrential rain, the river threatens to take away the life it nurtures.

The river, a primary force in steering the narrative forward, described in vivid detail is a character too. It is interesting to note how its vagaries match Angusami’s moods - its bountiful flow mirroring the content and blissful life he spent with his beloved wife Tangammai until she died of smallpox, its eddies reflect the emotional abyss he falls into when incapacitated by a shoulder dislocation injury. The Madan Sami (the river God) festival, flora and fauna terms enhance the local flavor. That the women characters here only embody a man’s love and hatred, the excessive stress on women's looks, a whole village fretting about ugly-faced Panki’s marriage may feel annoying and dated.

For the way nature’s vagaries, its wrath are explored dwelling on human relationships, On a River’s Bank by A Madhavan reminded me strongly of Dweepa by Na D’Souza, translated from Kannada by Susheela Punitha. The setting (the river) is just as important (maybe even more) as the principal human characters and for this reason, the book reminded me of Neela Padmanabhan’s Where the Lord Sleeps. Interestingly, both A Madhavan and Neela Padmanabhan are from the same region, the former born in Trivandrum, his parents hailed from Kanyakumari and the latter was born in Nagercoil, both the authors were known for their literary prowess in Malayalam and Tamil.

That continuous sand dredging alters a river’s course and degrades it beyond repair is something I have witnessed in the case of Bharathapuzha river that flows through my maternal grandmother’s town in Kerala. That the book written back in 1974 focused on this important environmental issue is pretty impressive. Lovers of Amitav Ghosh’s fiction on climate change/ecological issues now have a work to turn attention to from the arena of Indian translated literature in On a River’s Bank by A Madhavan, thanks to Ratna Books. 

With an end that leaves room for contemplation, On a River’s Bank clearly indicates that when man begins to plunder, nature can get ruthless.

Slices of the Moon Swept by the Wind

‘They say nobody can understand what I say .. So, my teacher told me that I must write whatever I think of in a book. As and when I remember’. So, our unnamed protagonist, a special child referred to by different names by his family members, writes everything down. 

He writes about Amma whose lap is his safe haven when he gets splitting headaches. He writes about Appa who dotes on him, is miffed with God and wakes up at the slightest sound from the deepest sleep. 

He writes about his Doddakka (elder sister) who pampers him and draws the most beautiful rangolis; about Sanakka (another sister) who never spares anyone who bullies him, tells him stories in the backyard in moonlight; about Tangi (younger sister), a 1  ½ yr old baby who looks like a sugar doll. 

There’s Anna (elder brother) who calls him a ‘pain’, pinches & beats him when alone, another ‘dead’ sister who reappears at their doorstep one day, Appa’s friend who teaches him at home, Dr. Shetty who’s always kind, a maternal uncle who regales him with the frog prince story, a man from Muharram procession who smiles and waves at him, he writes about them all. Though some of his notes feel disjointed to start with, it’s brilliant how everything (including the title) makes complete sense as we read. 

‘I will not tell you how I look. Whatever your imagination is, I look worse than that.’ And as you turn the pages, you care the least about his looks for you know he has the most beautiful mind.  Wise and mature beyond his years, he isn’t angry with God for his illness, with the school principal who refuses him admission or with the world that greets him with shock before half-pretending everything’s okay; he’s ‘special’ indeed! 

Slices of the Moon Swept by the Wind by Surendranath S, translated from Kannada by Prathibha Nandakumar, is a heart rending glimpse of a special child’s little world from his POV, of his family beset by many serious problems. In the introduction to the book, the author writes about his paternal aunt who he is extremely fond of. He claims that the book is loosely based on her and her family. He also states that it is Raghavendra Khasaneesa's Kannada short story 'Tabbaligalu' that inspired him to write the book. The family. neck deep in tragedy, in this story bore an uncanny resemblance to his aunt's family and this motivated him to write this book. Simple drawings by Apara adorn the pages. Translations from Kannada are few and far between, so heartfelt thanks to Prathibha Nandakumar for the translation , one that allows intimate connect with the text. 

Every page will leave you misty eyed, still you will gladly give into the pull of the words. An immensely moving novella, beautiful and heartbreaking in equal measure.