|
|
CURSED SOULS?
|
|
|
|
Malayalam Writers’ Workshop |
|
| |
Vizhinjam, Kerala
21-23 August 1999
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Life is a sea of incessant waves for me...
|
|
|
|
The first line of a poem titled "Waves" by Geetha Hiranyan sets the stage for this report on a weekend workshop for women writing in Malayalam, held in August 1999. The workshop took place in Vizhinjam, a seaside hamlet adjacent to the well-known beach resort, Kovalam, near Thiruvananthapuram in Kerala.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The constant roar of the waves was an apt backdrop to the wide-ranging discussions among the women writers who had gathered for the 2-1/2 day workshop. Geetha Hiranyan alluded to them as she tried to explain why she writes. “The words in my mind are like these waves beating on the shore,” she said, striving to make herself heard above the sound. “They will not rest until they are expressed through writing.”
The Malayalam workshop was the fourth in a series for creative writers in various Indian languages, scheduled during the first phase of the Women's WORLD/Asmita project on gender and censorship. The first three had brought together writers in Urdu, Telugu and Marathi.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In organising the workshop, I received tremendous support, guidance and assistance from members, friends and associates of Sakhi, a women's resource centre based in Thiruvananthapuram: Aleyamma Vijayan, Prema Nair, Sandhya Pillai, Jaya, C.S. Chandrika (herself a creative writer) and Parvathy Devi R. (a journalist and critic). In addition, I received support and suggestions from Jancy James, a literary critic and academic, and Mini Sukumar, a literary critic and activist, both conveniently based in Thiruvananthapuram.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In the end, only 13 of the invitees participated in the workshop – 10 creative writers and three literary critics. This was unfortunate and disappointing. But in this low participation rate may lie a tale about the situation of women in Kerala.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It is, of course, entirely possible that the small turnout was due to a number of mundane and insignificant reasons, and I have little doubt that those cited were by and large genuine. However I do believe that the pattern formed by these reasons reveals something about the circumstances of women's lives—even the lives of highly accomplished, well-known and successful women—in Kerala.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
For instance, several writers said ill-health was the reason for their inability to participate; it may be pure coincidence that many of them seem to suffer from chronic ailments that are closely associated with stress. Others said they could not come because they were preoccupied with domestic responsibilities; quite a few couldn’t get away from home because they were caring for ailing relatives.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A young writer, pursuing post-graduate studies, dropped out at the last minute ostensibly because another writer who was to have accompanied her fell sick, and she could not travel alone (from a city in central Kerala to the state capital, a six-hour journey at the most). As Parvathy Devi noted during the round of introductions on the first day, lack of mobility is obviously still a major problem for women in Kerala.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kerala's generally good image vis-a-vis human and social development has been earned largely through progressive policies leading to positive change. Traditional development indicators suggest that the status of women in Kerala is extremely good, especially in comparison with the situation of women in most other parts of India. But these encouraging statistics obviously do not tell the whole story about the paradoxical nature of Kerala's society and culture, particularly with regard to gender.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
There are several less well-known and certainly less widely acknowledged indications that all is not well with women in the state, despite high rates of female literacy and education, work participation, life expectancy and other such commonly cited evidence of well-being. Indeed, Kerala provides ample proof of the fact that literacy/education, employment and other such measures of women's development do not, in and by themselves, guarantee freedom and equality for women.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It is not entirely surprising that the contemporary Indian women's movement, which emerged in many parts of the country in the mid-1970s, became visible and audible in Kerala only during the last decade of the millennium. The hegemonic hold of political parties over the hearts and minds of ‘progressives’ in the state was at least partly responsible for the reluctance of many otherwise independent and forward-looking women to publicly acknowledge and protest against gender-based oppression.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A number of issues were brought up and discussed by participants at various points and in various contexts during the course of the workshop. In reporting the discussions, I will avoid the who-said-what-to-whom-where-when-why-and-how format, despite my own journalistic background. I will instead attempt to synthesise the discussions, highlighting the main points raised by the writers and illustrating them to the extent possible, with the examples and experiences they cited.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It is clear that the factors that shape women's lives and thereby influence their writing, are fairly similar across the country. Echoes from earlier workshops in other languages could be heard as women writers in Kerala shared their thoughts and experiences. It was also evident that most women writers -- across divides such as language, location, religion, ethnicity, age, genre, etc. -- have an instinctive understanding of gender-based censorship. Whether or not they had hitherto specifically thought about, analysed and/or named it as such, most of them have obviously experienced it at first hand, in one form or another. And, given the opportunity to talk about this with each other for the first time, they waxed extremely eloquent on the subject.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The gender-based roles and rules imposed by society and the family (natal and marital) emerged as major determinants of women's lives and, consequently, of their writing. The power wielded by the literary establishment (especially literary critics), and the market (including publishers and readers), as well as the attitudes that prevail within these centres of influence, clearly have a direct and special impact on women writers. The overall social, cultural and political climate which pervades the environment within which they have to live and work, is yet another consideration that most women writers feel they cannot afford to ignore.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The particular ways in which these factors impinge on writers naturally vary from place to place and person to person, as do the ways in which different individuals choose to deal with them. The recapitulation of the discussions at the workshop, which follows will, I hope, provide a glimpse of the commonalities as well as the differences in the experiences and perspectives of the participants.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The evening session with Sugatha Kumari on the second day of the workshop was not only interesting and moving in itself, it served to round up the sharing of experiences from the perspective of a life well lived.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Talking about her initiation into the world of activism, she spoke about her very first experience of visiting a mental health institution, and seeing and hearing, at first hand, the plight of women incarcerated there. She believes—like some others at the workshop, such as Lalitha Lenin and Chandrika – that writers must respond to social problems because they can use the might of the pen to make such issues into matters of public concern.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
At the same time, she admitted that she is unable to write poems about those issues that affect her deeply. “After I write a few lines,” she said, “my writing turns into prose.” Although she has written a few poems about the condition of the mentally ill, she finds it difficult to portray hell with all its terrors, and to express the emotions it invokes within a specific framework. “It may become easier if one can distance oneself from the problem,” she said.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
After she was appointed Chairperson of the State Commission for Women, she became conscious of a world almost worse than that represented by the mental health hospital. “It was only then that I understood the full extent of the lovelessness, cruelty, betrayal and neglect that exist in this world,” she said. “Faced with this heartlessness, my poetry has left me and fled—like a neglected god.” Activism lies in the world of war, she pointed out, while poetry belongs to the world of love. “There is no pleasure in war,” she pointed out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
According to her, she never faced any limitations or problems as a poet who happened to be a woman. Nor, she added, did she get any special consideration. She acknowledged, however, that paucity of time and space is a major constraint for women. It is difficult for women to write in peace and quiet, she said, they have little option but to cook, clean, look after the sick, fall ill themselves—and write whenever possible. “In the midst of all our preoccupations about what to cook and how to look after the children, it is only natural that we find it difficult to concentrate on our writing. A partner who shares the burden of domestic arrangements can be of great help to a writer,” she said.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She also admitted that one reason for the lack of opposition to her writing could be that society considers poetry a harmless activity—“like buying a silk sari”. It was when she got involved in environmental issues—such as the imminent destruction of the Silent Valley—that she began to face problems. The then chief minister of the state is known to have asked why she was fighting for trees and animals instead of sitting at home and writing poetry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In the finaly analysis, she said, “All writers are like cursed souls, stigmatised by god and unable to sleep soundly through the night. As for me, I believe I am thrice cursed: cursed as a writer, cursed as a social activist and cursed as a woman.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What the future may hold
|
|
|
|
Most participants in the workshop were of the opinion that the sharing of experiences and ideas begun in Vizhinjam was a worthwhile process and should be taken forward through more gatherings in different parts of the state. They also expressed great interest in reading the works of, and meeting with, women writers from other parts of the country.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ammu Joseph,
Workshop Co-ordinator
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Participants
|
|
|
|
1. Chandrika (Chandramathi), poetry, short stories. |
|
|
|
2. Chandrika C.S. (32), short stories, novels |
|
|
|
3. Geetha Hiranyan (45), poetry, short stories, essays, memoirs. |
|
|
|
4. Lalitha Lenin (53), poetry, short stories, scripts. |
|
|
|
5. Mallika K.R. (41), short stories, novels. |
|
|
|
6. Sarah Thomas (64), short stories, novels. |
|
|
|
7. Savithri Rajeevan (42), poetry, short stories (also art). |
|
|
|
8. Sudheera K.P. (36), poetry, short stories, essays, memoirs. |
|
|
|
9. Sugatha Kumari, poetry. |
|
|
|
10. Zuhara B.M. (45), short stories, novels, essays, translation. |
|
|
|
11. Jancy James, critic and academic.
|
|
|
|
12. Mini Sukumar, critic and activist. |
|
|
|
13. Parvathy Devi R., critic and journalist. |
|
|
|
14. Aleyamma Vijayan, reader and activist. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Jokes in History |
|
|
|
Lalita Lenin |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The learning as well as the teaching of
History is a different thing.
The fun of it is
In experiencing it. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I had always been
One who ripped open History
Like onions, like tandoori rotis,
Like the Women's Bill. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I started it long ago.
When the sharp canines of
The starved lions bit off
The steel thighs of slaves,
I burst out laughing.
I rolled on the floor.
How easy it is to make my
Dames and kids see
The joke of it!
The colosseum was
Thronged with them. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
But Androcles-
That rascal alone
Broke the story-line.
I like bows better than cows;
Lunacy more than frenzy;
I loathe Gandhi and Gandhari alike,
And my stables house not horses
But lions who snarl in them.
They like not oats but heads! |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Fraudulence in dice is more
Bewitching than foul brewing.
The beauty of the body
And the morbidity of the dress
Are heightened by it.
None dare look up
When my lions rumble!
How hilarious is it
To watch those lion-men
With grey beards and pale brows
Lower their faces!
They get deified in cross-roads. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
None of them rewrite History,
They are mere psalm-singers.
Quietly, they give knives
To other men's women.
Let them tear their hair
Or stab themselves!
Cadavers are good indications,
Like Sikhandis in the battlefield. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I revel not in these.
Glaring at the muscles
And the incisors,
I move my dice;
I tear open,
Suck up History. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
For that, I'll rear lions
Not in three,
But in three hundred stables. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Androcles(es) have died out.
Hence, there is no end
To the jokes in History. |
|
|
|
-- Translated by Sreedevi K. Nair |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|