Password and Other Stories

Password and other stories is a collection of 19 stories by Appadurai Muttulingam, translated from Tamil by S.Thillainayagam. The collection begins with 'The Black Squirrel', the story of an illegal Sri Lankan immigrant in Canada who works for a company that offers cleaning services. He who ensures that dust doesn't exist is almost non-existent for his white employer.

A man who talks to the walls to save his language from dying, a young, Tamil Eelam woman fighter who loves photography and birds, a man who works his way up from a scooter company's low-level employee to a star in national politics appear in stories here that portray human emotions & predicament with sensitivity. Humor and minor twists makes these stories less dramatic & more nimble. 

The author, from Sri Lanka, a citizen of Canada, has worked in many countries for the World Bank and the UN. His wide world view reflects as he flits from Canada to Kenya to Sri Lanka and discusses The Holocaust & Rwandan Genocide with an equal aplomb in his stories. 

How immigrants scrape through a myriad problems to eke out a living in foreign lands is an important subject. While he shows how different we are on the basis of race, religion, traditions etc, in fleeing violence and persecution, he highlights the common thread that many of us share. 

His love for Tamil & his homeland stands out as the Sri Lankan civil war is a neatly embedded motif in his stories. The mention of Mankulam in 'Friday Nights' reminded me of Mani Ratnam's movie Kannathil Muthamittal (movies like this are not made any more).

The titular story is a beautiful and warm depiction of the bond between a grandchild-grandparent. Another favorite is 'Fermented Dosai' that details the life story a Holocaust survivor, an old woman in her 80s who cooks with passion, with a vengeance to offset all that she has lost in her youth. 

Password and other stories may be slow or even uneven in its attempt to impress us readers but it has clear moments where it dazzles. I enjoyed reading this collection!

Who's Afraid of a Giant Wheel?

 

Noorie, the protagonist of Who's Afraid of a Giant Wheel by Zainab Sulaiman, replies 'I want to have a happy family when I grow up' when her classmate Seema questions her what she wants to become when she grows up. Seema, who's clear she wants to become a doctor, is puzzled at Noorie's answer but Noorie really doesn't have an alternate/better one.

Noorie bosses around in school, has happiest times with her best friend Amy, is unsure if Seema is a good friend even though she is really helpful. At home, Noorie is her maternal grandmother's pet and gets easily annoyed by her younger sister Nida (though she adores her too). She is a meek, 'forever at your service' playmate to her neighbor Tina.

In about 120 pages, the how and why behind Noorie's thoughts and actions unfolds slowly, gathering momentum and coming together well in the last four chapters.

From my experiences (own,observed  & borrowed), I feel a child's ability to make friends, at least in the early/school years, depends largely on the child's relationship with his/her parents and the equation parents share between themselves. Like all first lessons, that trust and mutual respect are essential in any relationship is also learnt at home.

When Noorie goes on a giant wheel for the first time, she feels nervous. Her stomach rushes up to her throat every time she goes down; a sudden gush of air hits her with a beautiful sight of the world below as she goes up. Noorie slowly gets used to the ride and feels only excitement. Zainab Sulaiman picks up the experience of this ubiquitous amusement park ride and depicts beautifully what 'life' is for all of us - one where change is inevitable, letting go is essential and sad/ bad days are interspersed with hopeful and happy days.

On the surface and for young readers, Who's Afraid of a Giant Wheel would work like a slice-of-life story of a young class 4 girl. But for grown-ups, the underlying messages are many and important. Enjoyed reading it!!

Dakshin - South Indian Myths and Fables Retold

 

Aren't folktales like rivers, crossing the barriers of borders and languages, flowing for years down generations? As a spring in the mountains, gushing down gorges, cascading down cliffs, flowing steadily and nurturing life, eventually draining into the wide sea; at times swelling in a blinding rage, and at others meekly vanishing into a thin stream, a river assumes many forms, quite like a folktale that comes in different versions. For instance, 'The Tale of the Singing Drum' from the Pattole Palame compilation (Kodava folklore) in this book loosely reminded me of the tale of Tejimola (from Assam).

The similarity between rivers & folktales struck me as I read the last story 'The Sage and the River'. It's not just a tale of Sage Agastya and the River Kaveri but a testimony to the valour of Kodava women (Kodava is the language spoken in Coorg & name of community too), also one that explains why Kodava women drape their saree in a unique way.

Why do Kodava men carry Piche Kaththi (an ornate sheathed knife with a crescent moon mark) during traditional ceremonies? 

What does their war cry 'Iggi Bokki' mean? 

Why is the Varaha (wild boar incarnation of Vishnu) revered in many places in Western ghats? Other than simple life lessons that folktales offer, it's interesting how they tell us the how, why and what kindling our imagination, in a way so unlike chunky encyclopedias.

Dakshin, a collection of 15 folktales, feels wholesome for the regions and languages it represents. Tales translated from Badaga (language & community in Nilgiris), Tamil (set in Kongunadu), Malayalam and one from Telugu (Tale of Bala Nagamma & Evil Sorcerer that has inspired movies) apart from many tales set in Karnataka feature here. Though the author clearly focuses on folklore from Coorg (from where he hails), he stretches the book's coverage by including a tale from Odisha (from Munda community). 

In storytelling that is lucid and engaging, Dakshin - South Indian Myths and Fables Retold is every bit enjoyable. One aspect that clearly stood out for me in the book is how the author has included a story (consisting of three stories - The Tale of the Jungle River) narrated by his primary school teacher. My love for reading and stories is largely due to me middle school English teacher, I cannot thank her enough. The stories are adequately supported by Pari Satarkar's lovely illustrations. The beautiful cover design is by Isha Nagar. 

For children and for 'hungry-for-stories child' alive in us grown ups, Dakshin by MP Nitin Kushalappa is a very beautiful treat.

Marquez, EMS, Gulam and others

 

This splendid collection of 15 stories let me travel to Doha, Jerusalem, Baghdad, Dublin, Djibouti, Ethiopia, America, Nainital, Solapur and of course, to a few towns in Kerala.

In the author’s note, Benyamin writes ‘stories cannot be pulled out of thin air like magicians and sanyasis pull out vibhuti. They are deeply rooted in life’. He explains how stories here are inspired by his experiences. Rather than report them in a matter of fact style, he wraps them intelligently with his opinions, beliefs, fears without pontificating even once. In every story, he highlights how we human beings view each other with spite and skepticism, through a myriad of filters - race, colour, religion, caste, class, nationality missing out the most rudimentary link - of humanity. The poor and marginalized, denotified nomadic tribes, immigrants from third world nations eking out a living in rich, developed countries find a place in these stories.

What happens when a young journalist in Kerala, Gregory George Mathews, wakes up one morning and believes he has transformed into the great writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez? The similarities between Mathews and Marquez that convince him the transformation is real, how Mathews’ wife ends his madness by deploying ‘a thorn to remove a thorn’ strategy tickle a funny bone. Missing animals from a zoo in Doha and princes fleeing Saudi, the Hmongs in America and EMS Namboodiripad are puzzle pieces the author connects with brilliant storytelling in ‘Gulam Hussain’ and ‘EMS and the Girl’. The shortest story ‘The Enemy’ packs a punch showing how for one standing in the path of extreme hatred & violence, the choice is to either be a victim or a perpetrator, never a mute spectator. While there is a man who cannot begin thieving, his scruples wouldn’t let him, there’s another who cannot quit thieving for his caste wouldn’t allow him.

Sharing a few favorite lines from the stories here - 

No matter which story I say is true, you will still believe only the version that you choose to. It applies not just to stories - life too, has this limitation. (from the story - Alice in Wonderland) 

Life has a way of settling into a routine, which, in no time, effortlessly sweeps away friends, edging you  into a personal pit, making you abandon everyone who anchored you and gave you a sense of rootedness until then. (from the story - Javed the Mujahideen) 

From sailing on ancient trade routes from Alexandria eastwards to Muziris to learning about ethnic clashes between Hadiyas, Amhara & Oromo in Ethiopia, there’s never a dull moment in this collection that dazzles with nested stories and stories with luscious open endings. The Harper Perennial editions are known for elaborate end-notes that mostly include an author's interview, notes from the author and translator. However, this book has only an introduction by the author, and the stories more than make up for the lack of insights section at the end. Though I enjoyed every story, those that left a deep imprint are - The Stones of Gazan, Addis Ababa, EMS and the Girl, Alice in Wonderland, Solapur, A Chapter from my Red Sea Book. 

Translated well by BR Swarup, Marquez, EMS, Gulam and others - selected short stories by Benyamin is a fulfilling smorgasbord!

The Buddha in the Attic

 

"One by one all the old words we had taught them began to disappear from their heads. They forgot the names of the flowers in Japanese. They forgot the name of the water goddess, Mizu Gami, who protected our rivers and streams and insisted that we keep our wells clean. But whenever we heard them talking out loud in their sleep the words that came out of their mouths came out—we were sure of it—in Japanese." 

"Our daughters took big long steps, in the American manner, and moved with undignified haste.Our sons grew enormous. They insisted on eating bacon and eggs every morning for breakfast instead of bean-paste soup.They refused to use chopsticks. They drank gallons of milk. They spoke perfect English just like on the radio and whenever they caught us bowing before the kitchen god in the kitchen and clapping our hands they rolled their eyes and said, “Mama, please.” "

-- above is an excerpt from the book The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka, a work of historical fiction on 'Picture Brides' who sailed from Japan (in early 20th century) to join their husbands in San Francisco, men they had seen only in photos until then, in hope of a better future or out of obligation to their parents. They were told their husbands are bankers but they were peasants. These women were crushed down to their bones doing odd jobs alongside their husbands all day long. They gave birth under horrific conditions, some of their children died and some survived. 

They told their children - "Study hard. Be patient. Whatever you do, don’t end up like me." And still, when their children  turned different, they felt they had become 'indifferent' too.

The chaos that's bundled with 'hyphenated heritage', the emotional experience of being 'an outsider' makes The Buddha in the Attic a layered read. This extra dimension reminded me of Asako Serizawa's depiction of life of a Japanese woman in America until the miscegenation law was repealed in 1948 in her book Inheritors and Cynthia Kadohata's portrayal of a modest Japanese family in 1950s America in her book Kira Kira. It is this dimension that makes me want to pick Kimi Cunningham Grant's book Silver Like Dust. 

There is no doubt that The Buddha in the Attic sheds light on a relatively lesser known dark chapter of history and it does so remarkably well, in a clearly structured fashion with thematic chapters. The book begins a chapter dedicated to the journey of these picture brides by boat. Chapters that detail their first impression as they land in America, the truths that unravel when they meet their husbands, consummation of their marriages, the menial jobs they do all day long while silently bearing the brunt of racism, ordeals related to child birth and health care, the culture shock that tears them apart as their children grow up etc follow on.  

The author's thorough research (we infer from the acknowledgements) lends a precision to the text and earns readers' trust. The writing is lucid and evocative too. Yet, the book fails to garner a perfect score on two accounts. 

Repetition is a common literary device used to assert or drive home a point. At Night all Blood is Black by David Diop and The Twilight Zone by Nona Fernandes are historical fiction works that come to my mind instantly as instances where this is employed and works pretty well. However, in this book, though repetition enhances the reader's emotional connect with the plight of the women initially, it lends a clear drag thereafter; pronouncedly in the last three chapters where the Japanese are branded as traitors, incarcerated, evicted from their homes and interned at camps following the Japanese attack of Pearl Harbour. Instead of letting this tragedy sink in us readers, the drag left a sense of urgency in me to complete the book.

Also, though the writer's usage of 'we', a first person plural in narration to amplify the collective experiences of the picture brides felt intelligent, in the absence of a distinct set of characters to connect with, my journey through the read felt directionless at places. 

Despite the above shortcomings, The Buddha in the Attic, a slim and highly important read, will stay with me for long for the way it dazzled in parts.