Stories of individuals and communities
SELINE AUGUSTINE
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A felicity of language and the easy flow of words make the translation a pleasure to read.
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In A Forest, A Deer Stories; Ambai Translated from Tamil by Lakshmi Holmstrom, Oxford University Press, Rs. 295
IN a Forest, A Deer is a translation of Ambai's third collection of stories, Kaattil oru maan (Kalachuvadu, 2000), with the addition of "A Movement, a File, Some tars" (Kalachuvadu, July-August, 2002). Ambai relentlessly explores ways in which people describe themselves and the group identities and the communities to which they belong. We find that she constantly chafes at roles, identities and rules that are a given.
No stereotypes
The writer is dead against the portrayal of stereotypical women. And ticks off society for identifying people by the most rigid of identities and the narrowest of tests. Are you a Hindu? Answer yes or no. This is ridiculous, as Ambai feels the definition of the self as part of a community is highly limiting because the categories and groups invariably change and shift.
"Wrestling" is a brilliant story that encapsulates beautiful vignettes and is well crafted. Ayya portrayed as the consummate artiste of a musician, is modern in outlook and a thoroughbred gentleman. The heir apparent, his son Shanmugham, pales in hue and substance and is merely lucky to marry his father's favourite sishya, Shenbagam.
His inadequacy in musicianship makes him wretched, as Shenbagam is star material. The delicate nuances of his reactions and feelings are superbly delineated. Ultimately you find that merit and great artistry cannot be hidden under a bushel, even if it were to be found in a woman.
Ambai brings to bear upon her tales the weight of her knowledge of the mythic, literary and Puranic. At times, it borders on dropping names and titles — from the realm of classics, including music.
In a single paragraph in "A Rose-coloured sari", we read of Mali's alaapanai in Kaapi raagam, Balasaraswati's dance, Birju Maharaj's Kathak dance leaps, the tenderness of Bhimsen Joshi's Lalit raagam, the resonance of Gangubai Hangal's voice, Girija Devi's lilting tones, Tirumular's lines, and poet Ghalib's plea to the Lord.
Holmstrom is of the opinion that a translation is a discovery and celebration of the source text. Her felicity of language and the easy flow of words make the translation a pleasure to read.
She has said that a creative translation goes beyond content; it is the voice, the style and the imaginative world of the text. The challenge is to get that across and she has done precisely that and with resounding success in In a Forest, A Deer.
Telling commentary
"Vaaganam" is a telling commentary on the modern craze for possessing vehicles. In the family photo album you find boys on tricycles, toy motorcar; but the girls were invariably holding a wooden doll or hanging on to the arm of a chair. It was obvious that the family photographer held firmly to the belief that women were incapable of standing up on their own, and without the support of something or the other.
A dash of biting sarcasm being interwoven with humour — one day Chithi rode pillion on a motorbike with Inspector husband. Lengthy arguments follow on how to purify her as she had sat on a leather seat.
Endless debate on to wash whether chithi or the vehicle with cowdung water! Finally she swallows a drop of cow's urine mixed with something or the other. The sting is in the tail: After the cleansing, she travelled by mobike every day.
Ambai modestly remarks "Had these stories not been written, no one would have missed them except perhaps for a group of friends."
According to her, the magic of a story taking shape in another language can happen only if, like pushing a fishing boat into the sea, a translation gently nudges a story into the vast ocean of another language.
The translator, Lakshmi Holmstrom, has that gentle and sure touch as is borne out in the stories on hand.
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