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Literary Review
TRANSLATION
Still relevant
ANJANA RAJAN
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Three Tamil novels written a few decades ago bear an uncanny resemblance to today’s world.
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Into this Heaven of Freedom by Indira Parthasarathy, translated by Subbulakshmi Janardhanan; Rishi Moolam by Jayakanthan, translated by K.S. Subramanian; Today by Ashokamitran, translated by Shanti Siva raman, Indian Writing,
Into this Heaven of Freedom by Indira Parthasarathy was first published in Tamil (Swatantra Bhoomi) in 1973. Like Ashokamitran’s Today, first published in Tamil as Indru in 1984, it bears an uncanny resemblance to the ‘today’ of 2007, when Indian Writing has made both works available in English translation.
Racy story
Parthasarathy tells the racy story of Mukundan, who comes to Delhi from his native Tamil Nadu in search of a job. He fails to find one, not for lack of qualifications but for lack of an influential supporter in the right places, and soon enough finds such an influential ‘friend’ that he is himself catapulted to political power. The characters bring Indian politics alive in a glaring manner. The ruthlessly ambitious siren Sarla, the kingmaker Mishra, various other politicians seem to be characters from a Hollywood thriller about some fictitious failed state riddled by corruption. And then you realise they are all too real. The translation by Subbulakshmi Janardhanan is good but marred by printing errors — spelling mistakes, repeated words and the like.
Today, an interesting amalgam of literary genres such as soliloquy, narrative fiction, newspaper clippings, dialogue and poetry, is gripping in a dreamlike way. Ashokamitran pulls no punches. He names no names, but we recognise the hard face of authority during the National Emergency, the uncaring slackness once it is lifted, the dusty oblivion to which the idols of the freedom struggle have been relegated. His characters are memorable. Ever hopeful, glad of small mercies, they have, in their resigned cheerfulness, an infinite ability to shoulder the weight of injustice that gradually distorts their lives.
There is Sundararaman in Madras, who struggles to get his children immunised against polio. There is the freedom fighter in New Delhi, whose poignant soliloquy tells us about his life in a home for ‘heroes’ of the independence movement. There is a disastrous interview of an author by a journalist — hilariously ridiculous, painfully true to life.
In saying so little, Ashokamitran says so much. And the whole of it is a tough order for the translator. But, taking a straightforward approach, Shanti Sivaraman handles it without a hiccup. On the whole she succeeds in giving the translation an identity of its own. However, printing errors ruin the reading at times.
Taboo topics
Jayakanthan’s Rishi Moolam, first published in Tamil in 1969, and translated by K.S. Subramanian, contains two novellas: “Rishi Moolam” and “Rocking Chairs” (Aadum Naarkaligal Aadugindrana). The two are remarkable works for their time. Sexual repression, Oedipus complex, society’s views on and its lack of preparation to deal with individuals grappling with these problems are beginning to be discussed only lately. That Jayakanthan dealt with these themes and was welcomed by readers — and attacked by some critics — back in the 1960s is noteworthy.
“Rishi Moolam” is the moving story of Rajaraman, tormented by guilt over an encounter with a woman he equates with his mother. Society reveres him as a saintly ascetic, while he reviles himself and all humanity. The image is chilling and compelling as he evokes the workings of Rajaraman’s mind with intensity.
“Rocking Chairs” takes place within a house in a middle class neighbourhood. The rocking chairs potently exemplify the mood of the characters. Whether each chair is occupied or empty has an important bearing on daily life in the home of Alankaravalli Ammal, who rules over her family with an iron hand and steely heart warped by hardship into what could be described as a psychological tragedy. Janaki the youngest of her ‘children’, a 30-year-old with a responsible job, attempts to break out of the mould. She is supported only by her eldest brother. Is it because he has been out of his chair for some time? However, her bolt for freedom doesn’t even take her to the threshold of the house. After the tremors, the rocking continues. The author succeeds in bringing twilight eeriness even to afternoon daylight.
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