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.