In pelimpsest

Since I launched Thulika in June, I received wonderful feedback and encouragement. I am immensely grateful to you all.

The theme for this issue is pelimpsest (Thanks, Judy, for the word!). The term describes the complexity of life abroad well. Our past traditions and cultural values seep through the present times and help us recognize the shape our culture is taking.

As stated in my first editorial, I am featuring prominent writers from Andhra Pradesh, India, with special emphasis on the female writers from 1960s. In the previous issue a Marxist writer, Ranganayakamma and a social consciousness writer Malati Chendur were featured. In the current issue two more writers D. Kameswari and Chaganti Tulasi are being featured. We, including myself, as writers, belong to that generation who made history in 1960s.

Thulasi’s story, Ascent Heavenwards depicts the life of working class families from their perspective. The life is a daily struggle for the couple, Poli and her husband Appala Kondayya. Their problem evidently is financial. They are not short for love. “Had they been rich, their love would have come to the notice of all as an ideal love”.

The husband is upset since he couldn’t get work and couldn’t afford even a leaf of tobacco. He is ticked off when his wife brings a new aluminum pot. The wife is equally upset. “This is my will and pleasure. I bought it with my own hard-earned money. Good Heavens! Why are you wailing as though I squandered your money? Have I ever pestered you to buy a pot?” she snaps. There is a thought on economic freedom for women if you will. The truth is such altercation is not uncommon among couples, irrespective of their social status. For centuries the husbands have been the earners and the wives the managers of the household.

At the end Appala Kondayya suffers a mental breakdown. It is a touching moment. His grief is profound and insightful. His comment says it all. “It’s better to die. After death, we go to heaven. Life itself is hell, said she (Poli). True to her words, she went to heaven. I survived. Survived to live in this hell.”

Their ideal love comes to the fore in his psychosis but the stark reality in their lives is not having enough to live, not even for bare necessities. Thulasi highlights the numerous forces that the poor are up against. Ironically the final blow is dealt not by the local leaders but by nature.

There is a folktale in Andhra Pradesh. The proverbial phrase is “like Poli going to heavens”. I don’t remember the entire story but I think it refers to impossible situations. Significantly the female character is given the same name. In the folktale Poli attempts to go to heaven by holding on to the tail of a cow. In Ascent Heavenwards, Poli is gone holding on to her aluminum pot. Her husband brings the story to the believable level when he comments that death is preferred to the miserable life they have in this world. Tulasi handles it beautifully. It is a poignant story.

Tulasi used the language of the low class for an additional dimension in her characterization. She handled it superbly. Anuradha took on a massive task in attempting to translate this story. The native dialect does not lend itself to cross-cultural translation. I think Anuradha used a more formal style to put that distance between the educated readers and the low class characters.

Kameswari’s story depicts the downside and the abuse of individual freedom. In any society the common good overrides individual freedom. In the west constitution dictates whereas in India the religious beliefs set the norms. In the story Don’t Turn the Clock Back Kameswari portrays the abuse of complete freedom the educated girls are allowed in families with progressive views.

Kalyani, the mother allows her daughter Chitra complete freedom and trusts that the daughter uses it sensibly. Notably the father is keen on raising a girl “like a girl”. Historically women are considered the custodians of tradition. Now we see a change in the attitude of men.

Tradition seeps through our experiences and cultural values in palimpsest. The old traditions are never erased totally. The new values are written over the old ones thereby assimilating and giving raise to a new structure of traditions and values. Kameswari reflects upon this transition skillfully when she refers to Kunti. In the great Hindu epic, Mahabharata, Kunti, a member of royal family, is blessed by the Sun God to bear a son while she was a virgin. For fear of scandal, Kunti puts the baby in a basket and leaves in the river. Notably Kameswari uses it to drive a current issue home. She points out that no society anytime in history had looked favorably upon unwed mothers and it is not going to happen now. No man will come forward to marry a woman who lost her virginity before marriage even in these modern times with all its uproar about progress. “Even if some boy with a big heart comes forward to marry you, he will never let you forget it” (emphasis mine). That is the crux of the issue, the harsh reality in modern day India. The kindest of husbands would not let the woman forget her mistake.

I had several conversations with Sujatha Srinivas, a journalist and writer from Andhra Pradesh and currently residing in the US, on recent trends in fiction in Andhra Pradesh. Sujatha mentioned that women writers are featuring pregnancies of unwed mothers and atypical sexual relationships prominently in feminist writings lately. It appears that several feminist writers in Andhra Pradesh are equating unrestrained and near chaotic sexual freedom with feminism (Complete text in Readers’ Forum). I am not sure if third wave feminism would accept this stand. Kameswari’s story in juxtaposition with these feminist stories reveals the wide range of topics in current day fiction in Andhra Pradesh.

In Don’t Turn the Clock Back Kameswari used English extensively in the dialogues between mother and daughter at the beginning in order to emphasize their education and sophistication. Towards the end, however, where the mother comments on propriety and Chitra’s misuse of her freedom, the mother significantly delivers it in Telugu! Like in the translation of Ascent Heavenwards some of the native flavor is lost in translation in terms of the effective use of a given language.

My stories, Life as a Ritual and Shortchanging Feminism are chronologically backwards. The first one is published in November 1987 and the second in September 1987. But now I see that these two stories together make more sense if read in the order presented here.

The stories are about the first generation immigrants from India. I came here in 1970s and am one of the first generation immigrants. My stories reflect the values and perceptions of the first generation immigrants.

In Life as a Ritual an unsuccessful attempt to adapt to local customs is depicted. Lack of communication in the real sense drives a wedge between husband and wife. The core problem is in the last line when the wife says “But you are always on a mission with the same passion. You would kick to your feet and run much the same way if she broke a nail”. If I wrote about the hero running to the rescue of a woman who broke her nail, it would not be as interesting!

So I had to create a genuine problem and then revert to her dissatisfaction. The readers are welcome to comment on this technique.

Although it was not my original plan this story leads to the second, Shortchanging Feminism. The abyss in their lives deepens with time and their preoccupations.

After the story Shortchanging Feminism was published in 1987 I didn’t think about it until recently. In August 2001 while working on this issue of Thulika, I came to know that my story has appeared in more than one publication in Andhra Pradesh eventually. The Sahiti Circle, Hyderabad published an anthology entitled Streevada kathalu (Feminist stories) in 1993 and included my story in their collection. The editor commented that the story “created a sensation”. And Sujatha Srinivas, a writer, said that she has read it in yet another magazine. Also I found a 2-page critique on the story in a book, Asamanathvamlo ninchi to asamanathvamloki (From Inequality into Inequality) by a famous Telugu Marxist/feminist writer, Ranganayakamma. She mentioned that she used one of the lines from my story in a slightly modified form. The critique is flattering.

In all it seems a brief comment on my part is in order.

One of Ranganayakamma’s comments was that the female protagonist “thus lived under self-deception for sometime and then left.” I am not sure if this is a correct observation. The female protagonist in this story was aware that there was a problem, tried to reason out first with herself and then with her husband and left after realizing that there was no other solution. I see no self-deception there. The entire story hinges on one aspect- an intense soul search, a sort of philosophical reflection on the part of the female protagonist. The paradox in the lifestyles, US versus India, is evident in her metaphor of “the bullock cart on a country road”. She was used to a relaxed life in India as opposed to the constant pressures at every level in the US. In the process she reflects on the life in the US for foreigners. The perspective is much broader than what is understood as feminism in India, I believe. It is not just about domestic violence or psychological abuse. It has an added dimension: an Indian living on a foreign soil.

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language defines palimpsest as a written document, typically on vellum or parchment, that has been written upon several times, often with remnants of earlier, imperfectly erased writing still visible, remnants of this kind being a major source for the recovery of lost literary works of classical antiquity.

In order to appreciate the nuances of another culture one must beware of an overlay of numerous traditional values that seep through. That is what I tried to present in these two stories. The two stories present a perspective of a woman, steeped in traditional values, and struggling to take on one more dimension, the hue of local culture. It is a complex life with so many layers of beliefs and experiences bubbling through everyday life.

Typically the first generation Indian men held the view that their job is to provide financial security and the woman’s duty is to run the household. There is a quote from ancient scriptures that runs something like “karyeshu dasi, karaneshu mantri, sayane Rambha…” which roughly translates as “a maid for domestic chores, counselor in family matters, the divine courtesan in bed…” and a few more duties I can’t recollect now. In short the woman should be everything and more. The first generation men did not grow out of this format in their concept of a family life. As a result the women worked in the kitchen, did the chores they were not accustomed to back home, and also worked outside partly because they were tired of staying behind the closed doors of US homes.

I received a comment from a current generation reader, Viplav Putta. The email read:

Women have plenty of reasons to be happy here in US -They are away from everyday hassles that are common in India - from a household help not showing up to nnot being able to rely on the rickshaw guy to pick kids for school. They can spend more time with their immediate family here - go to nice restaurants -movies - holidays, shopping etc. Probably each one can find some freedom in driving own car, do a job if they can and want to, see places and meet people. (Full text available in Readers Forum)

Viplav Putta is asking why first generation women are not happy, and raised a few more potent questions. I don’t have answers for all of them. My story Shortchanging Feminism addresses one of his questions and only partially. For a first generation woman it was hard to come to terms with the chores she was not accustomed to, the emptiness of polite conversations over the phone staring into the walls in front, the time consumed by driving the children and guests around, and the closed doors shutting the mankind out. Several women took jobs just to have a connection with the outside world. A carefully orchestrated conversation at a well-planned party on weekends is no match for the everyday, candid and humorous exchange of words we grew up with. It is not the same as being surrounded by family and friends incessantly. A bunch of mechanical gadgets available in the US are no match for human resources in India.

I tried to present a woman’s perspective in both the stories. In a way it is just an intense soul search on the part of a first generation female immigrant. The two stories raise several questions; there is material enough for a full-length novel. I am not a novelist and so I did not write one.

Sujatha Srinivas’s story The Male Progeny offers a current generation perspective. Unlike the first generation women, the current generation arrived here well-prepared and are knowledgeable in US customs and culture. Sujatha’s story entitled Putra kameshti in Telugu depicts women’s preference for a male child. “Putra kameshti” is an ancient ritual performed especially by royal families desiring a male child for the continuation of their lineage. In modern times medical technology and Chinese wisdom offer similar paraphernalia to grant such wishes. The main character Naveena in the story is a expectant mother and a feminist activist. The name Naveena literally means “new” or “modern”. As a typical modern womea, Naveena is a mover and a shaker. As a mother to be she shows preference for a male child. Sujatha walks through the story skillfully and highlights the contradiction in one’s public activities and personal choices. Naveena’s taking charge of her pregnancy is commendable while her reasons are of dubious distinction.

On a secondary note, Sujatha Srinivas is not from 1960s. She was not born then. I just received the story and decided to include it in this issue since the story fits into the scheme beautifully. The story throws light on our changing values and illustrates a broader perspective of Indians in America.

The two stories Shortchanging Feminism and The Male Progeny raise serious questions in regard to the sincerity of the Indian feminists.

With that note I’ll leave you to a pleasurabule reading, on to the stories…

You are welcome to send in your comments, public or private. Your public comments will be uploaded in Readers’ Forum as and when received.

N.M.

December 2001