Modernist Malayalam short fiction by Kakanadan, set in the avenues and gullies of Delhi of the 1960s, now in English translation.
The writer Kakanadan holds a unique place in the over-120-year-old history of the Malayalam short story. In the earliest phase of the social, cultural and literary renaissance in late 19th century Kerala, the short story was the most favoured form of fiction, for its brevity and quick appeal, published in newspapers and magazines of that time. The works of the earliest of the realists both heralded and reflected the rapid social reforms in Kerala society. The stark realist stories of Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai, P. Kesava Dev, Ponkunnam Varkey and others in the 1930s, during the Jeeval Sahitya (Living Literature) movement, were inspired by the socialist awakening.
By then, the Malayalam short story had come of age. Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, who began writing during this period, did not get stuck in the stark realist phase like most of the others did but kept evolving, writing stories that employed diction and techniques similar to that of 21st century Malayalam writers. Lalithambika Antharjanam, who pioneered women’s writing in the stark realist mode, had K. Saraswathi Amma and Rajelakshmy for successors. S.K. Pottekkatt, Uroob, T. Padmanabhan and M.T. Vasudevan Nair followed, in the romantic-realist mode. Around this time, Kamala Das entered the scene and contributed unique stories under the pen name Madhavikutty, elevating the genre to world standard, like Basheer did before her. Both practised an economy of diction imposed by their limited vocabularies, which eventually worked to their advantage. It was in this scenario that O.V. Vijayan arrived, with the earliest modernist short fiction and his novel Khasakkinte Itihasam (The Legends of Khasak). Soon, Kakanadan followed, with his power-packed stories; M. Mukundan and M.P. Narayana Pillai, too, joined the bandwagon. All of them were regulars at Kerala Club, located at Connaught Place, New Delhi, where they read out their stories in the weekly “Sahitya Samvaadam” events moderated by Professor Omchery N.N. Pillai. They would discuss the stories threadbare, and this was often followed by heated exchanges. V.K. Narayanankutty Nair, popularly known as VKN, the doyen of satire in short and long Malayalam fiction, also participated in these literary discussions, though not often at Kerala Club. M. Mukundan remembers Kakanadan’s singular role in bringing modernism proper into the world of Malayalam fiction. I quote Mukundan: “Arguably, more than any other writers, Kakanadan was instrumental in bringing about modernity in Malayalam fiction-writing in the sixties which was until then under the reign of romanticism and communism. True to the rule of modernity, the first step he made was to move away from romanticism and sentimentalism” (Indian Literature 267, Jan-Feb 2012, pages 37-38). Kakanadan lived in Delhi only for seven years, from 1961 to 1967, after which he left for Leipzig, Germany, to pursue a research project. But the seven years he spent in Delhi turned out to be an important period in the history of Malayalam literature, specifically Malayalam fiction. Waves of change revolutionised the writing of Malayalam fiction, thematically and structurally. Kakanadan and his associates were destined to be the leading revolutionaries. Six of the 14 short stories presented in the collection Blue Eclipse and Other Stories, which Kakanadan’s son Rishi Kakanadan has translated, belong to this seven-year Delhi period—“Harkishanlal Sood” (1964), “The Rogue” (1964), “House of Glass” (1965), “Seventeen” (1964), “Death of Mascarenhas” (1965) and “Sunshine” (1966). Although “Yusuf Sarayiyile Charas Vyapari” (“Hashish Peddler of Yusuf Sarai”) was written in 1971, it is clearly about this Delhi period. Kakanadan had experienced life in the nooks and corners of Delhi, from the grand avenues to the gullies. The historical and aesthetical significance of these stories stems from the fact that they were trend-setting and defined modernist short fiction in Malayalam. The opening story, “Harkishanlal Sood”, is, at first look, the portrait of a dissolute drunkard and shirker. But at a deeper level, one understands with a shudder that Sood’s dying wife, Sulochana, whom he dreads facing on her deathbed, is his real lifeline. Sulochana’s brothers have been supporting the family because of their bond with their sister, which will snap once she dies. This is the reason behind Sood’s drifting, at least on the present occasion. He does not know how to face the situation. And his bravado, presented in stream of consciousness, of being one who has “experienced” life, unlike his other lower-middle-class associates, is typical escapist jargon. He borrows money from a friend on the pretext of medical treatment for his wife and spends it on booze and a game of cards. When he reaches home, he finds his children crying in front of the house, the elder daughter because “Mom is not well”, and the younger one because she is hungry. Sood gives water to the dying Sulochana, and when she breathes her last, he slides to the floor, puts his head on the side of the bed and weeps like a child. Yes, he was but the waif who depended on her! A story such as this, with the kind of diction it employed in the original Malayalam, was mint-new and put to devastating use.