The Toss of a Lemon : Padma Vishwanathan

Image Credit: Indiebound

I have plunged into this sad habit of writing reviews of books long after I finish reading them. It's frustrating in some ways because not all books stick to the surface of good memories - more often than not, these words we spend so many hours over - how many really last? We read to forget time - and then cannot remember the moments we lost that time for.

Padma Vishwanathan's epic Toss of a Lemon was one of those books that I spent a lot of time on - and now as I slowly crank these wheels of memory, shreds of the story keep coming. Here's the book description from Amazon:

Sivakami was married at ten, widowed at eighteen, and left with two children. According to the dictates of her caste, her head is shaved and she puts on widow's whites. From dawn to dusk, she is not allowed to contaminate herself with human touch, not even to comfort her small children.

 

Sivakami dutifully follows custom, except for one defiant act: She moves back to her dead husband's house to raise her children. There, her servant Muchami, a closeted gay man who is bound by a different caste's rules, becomes her public face. Their singular relationship holds three generations of the family together through the turbulent first half of the twentieth century, as India endures great social and political change. But as time passes, the family changes, too; Sivakami's son will question the strictures of the very beliefs that his mother has scrupulously upheld. 

That kind of a story might fool you into thinking that we have a story that takes on the injustices of India's well-entrenched caste system. Don't be that fool. I have a feeling that this book was written for Western audiences who might not really know the intricacies of the caste system. And for that Vishwanathan has done a wonderful job. Bear in mind that the story chronicles Sivakami's life as a child bride from 1896 and ends just before India's independence. The 600 pages of this book relate in great detail the changes that a struggling India goes through, viewed through the Brahmin quarters that Sivakami spends most of her adult life in. 

 

When I write it like this the book might seem so interesting, and it is. But the narrative technique that Vishwanathan employs let me down - at no point does the author delve into her characters' mind, and many of them are given a strange hue without real reason. Is it because the book is partly autobiographical? Take for example, Sivakami's daughter Thangham - she is one of the strangest characters in the book. Beautiful, yet possessing of some divine attraction - she starts shedding gold. Yes, you read me correctly. Gold flakes like dandruff. People gather around Thangham to pinch that gold dust off her. And it's some kind of a shedding phase that comes and goes, for no apparent reason I could fathom. Why was this 'gold shedding' nonsense introduced, dear author? Thangham is given a mute voice - things happen to her - she is married to a wastrel of a husband, Gopi - and she keeps birthing kids faster than I can make breakfast. We are told that Thangham never is close to all the children she gives birth to - why? Why does she not talk? Why is there no voice? Ach, frustrating! 

 

Through the latter half of the book, it's Sivakami's son Vairum who gains more prominence - and it's only then that we slowly see the unraveling of the caste system as it was known. Vairum shocks Sivakami often with his disavowal of the Indian caste system - and their battles, quiet Sivakami and a raging Vairum are often fascinating. One of the most touching scenes to me follows one such battle when Sivakami is thrown out of Vairum's house in Chennai, and this Brahmin widow has to make her way back alone, she who has not really moved beyond the confines of a little village called Cholapatti. Yet, those scenes are far and few. 

I wouldn't condemn this book for such lack though. There is much to be gleaned from a Toss of a Lemon - if you are interested in knowing the traditions of a South Indian Brahmin family, then this book is for you, and it wouldn't leave you frustrated like it did for me, perhaps.

Verdict : 2.5/5

Rating: A depth of information, but lacking in insight - yet worth a read.

 

Naomi : Junichiro Tanizaki

Image Credit : Wikia

That I am a big fan of Junichiro Tanizaki is no secret. I fell in love with the Makioka Sisters, then read Quicksand, and now the latest is Naomi. Interestingly, Naomi is called Chijin No Ai in Japanese, literally Fool's Love.

And it's a fool's love that prompts Joji, in his twenties, to fall in obsessive love with Naomi, the beginning of a chaotic, passionate and disruptive relationship that takes many forms. I immediately saw shades of Nabokov's Lolita. Joji takes the 15-year-old Naomi under his wings - with a stated desire of making her Westernized, Tanizaki's not-so-veiled criticism of Japan's increasing Westernization in the 1920s. Joji narrates the story, but your sympathies are initially with Naomi - who grows up under his control. She learns English, and Joji tries to make her a lady. But there are aspects to their relationship seem creepy - Joji often bathes her, buys her expensive kimonos, and Joji carries her on his back, pretending to be a pony. In return, Naomi is rarely allowed out of the house, and she develops a slatternly, slovenly appearance, not the lady that Joji aspires her to be. But control can only extend so much. Slowly, but surely Naomi breaks away from the caterpillar's cocoon and dawns wings that threatens Joji's control over her.

What follows is a  masterful depiction of an obsessed relationship - Naomi has many lovers - but Joji has only one. And that's where the poignancy of Tanizaki's writing comes in. But the Japanese writer is not a pervasive seeker of just human emotion - he is also at his best, masterfully witty, and there are many scenes he provides just that. And bear in mind that Tanizaki offers one of the most insightful glimpses into 1920s Japan. When you put that in a package, it makes for a very readable novel. Yet, while reading Tanizaki is easy, understanding his many layered themes is not simple. I am sure that the themes of sexual obsession, control, an entire societal change, and the peculiar colors of human relations - all of this need to be explored in greater detail. For a review though, we are impatient readers, and I an impatient blogger as well, ;-), so suffice to say that Naomi is interesting, provocative, and well, for fans of Tanizaki a must read.

Verdict : Provocative story that has shades of Lolita


Rating: 3/5

Green Whirls

Green Whirls, a photo by birdysworld on Flickr.

Life Wordsmith needs some color, doesn't it? And who better than one of the most talented photographers I have seen? Just for a break - Green Whirls by Birdy.

Enjoy the photo. Green is the color of life after all...

(All rights reserved : Birdy)

Ancient Promises: Jaishree Misra

Image Credit: Amazon

I went to the library to look for the 3rd and last book in The Hunger Games trilogy but it wasn’t there. They had to place an order for it and they said it would take a week. Even as my disappointment was taking shape my eyes fell on Jaishree Misra’s “Ancient Promises.” A summary:

Young and vulnerable, Janu gave up Arjun, her first great love, to enter into an arranged marriage. Years later she is miserable, having been gradually shut out by the coldness of her husband’s family and his indifference to her and their daughter’s needs. Finally she flees to England to escape the loveless union – but at what price to herself and those she loves?

I had heard of Jaishree Misra but this was the first time I gave into reading her book. Especially since my mom said that someone had raved about this book to her. The book begins with Janu’s marriage and then takes us a little into her past. Janu meets Arjun in college, they become friends and then lovers. Now in most parts of the world the natural progression would be to marry each other and lead a great life. But in India, being lovers comes with a sack of complications. Caste, race, religion, class and most of all parental approval comes into play. Thus is decided an arranged marriage. One which Janu goes through. Despite Arjun being the owner of her heart, Janu decides to agree to the “match” that her parents made for her. She goes through years of silent suffering before she speaks up for herself, gathers courage and even makes the decision to support herself.

A lot of the issues in this novel surface from merely being a part of Indian society and part of a household that fiercely upholds a traditional outlook. Although Janu felt rage initially, at the fact that she wasn’t involved with the search process, she didn’t voice it. Instead, she cried inside, she held hands with Arjun and parted from him with a heavy heart as he left for further studies to England. She met her future husband for 5 minutes where he asked questions and she answered. She agreed to the marriage although she could have put her foot down and refused.

Many readers would wonder what made her take this seemingly insane decision. I personally would never do it. But somewhere in a remote corner of my mind I comprehend her choice. In her letter to Arjun she explains –

Because I’m tired of fighting off my family, they’ve proven their love for me in the eighteen years it’s taken to bring me up…maybe I will find some comfort in making my folks happy for once! For a while they’ve seen my ways as being increasingly dissolute and uncaring, so here’s compensation for all that in one fell swoop. And how! I’ve never seen them happier. It’s hard not to let that infect me.

Although it has changed over the years, a lot of brides in India still get married for all the same reasons that Janu mentions. While a few marriages genuinely turn out to be good, the rest continue in a parallel existence made up of adjustments and compromises tied together by the fear of social stigma. Janu’s turns out to be one such marriage. Her husband does not abuse her or beat her. He provides for all her needs, monetarily. But he is indifferent. They do not have conversations or laugh together or share anything with each other. He is mentally remote, which makes it all the more difficult for Janu to pinpoint the reason for leaving him.
Her husband’s family, mainly the womenfolk, revels in throwing taunts at her, teasing her and generally not showing her love or kindness. In a last bid to win their affection, Janu deliberately gets pregnant. But she discovers that even her daughter fails to move them, even more so when the child turns out to have learning disabilities.

Janu eventually musters the courage to put an end to the jibes thrown at her, study and earn a degree and finally get a scholarship to go abroad to study and teach. Janu’s problems don’t end there but Misra ensures a happy ending.

What I liked in this book was the acute perception and description of a lot of issues that are faced by Indian families, particularly women, even today. This book would make particular sense to a person coming from Kerala, a state in Southern India, which is where I too come from. Many references and words from Malayalam, the language of the state, are used in the novel which might make it a little difficult for others to understand but makes a whole lot of sense to me. In fact, it’s this additional sprinkling of words from another language that gives a more definite texture to the story, immersing it firmly in the culture and customs of the place.

On the other hand, sometimes the characters can seem black and white. All the people in Janu’s in-laws family are portrayed as uncaring, scheming people. Arjun seems to be a man without flaws. Leena is the right foil to Janu, with her flirtatious and free-spirited ways. Janu’s own family is a mix of good heartedness and spirituality, weakened by tradition and societal obligations. Misra’s writing is uncomplicated and flows smoothly albeit a bit melodramatic in some places. Being a semi-autobiographical book makes it a more interesting read.

Verdict: Perfect book for a lazy afternoon
 
Rating: 3/5