February 1, 2012
Prominent female authors/activists including Sara Joseph, Dr. Sharadakutty, Ajitha and Devika have lashed out at Unnikrishnan Puthoor for what they are calling a cheap attempt to get publicity by slandering a talented woman who cannot defend herself anymore. They state that Unnikrishnan Puthoor's write-up is a glaring example of the male chauvinism and dominance that continues to plague Kerala's society. Women, here, even today are classified into three. First, the married type. Men are comfortable dealing with those. Afterall, they are under some other man's control and even if they stray it will be hardly for a few harmless affairs. The second category is prostitutes. Though they are unionized they have the law stacked against them, so men don't feel much threatened. The third are what Sharadakutty calls "ownerless goods". These are the independent unmarried young women, divorcees and widows who make the men most uncomfortable. They threaten the neat hierarchy, tribal mindset and control system that men have smugly, traditionally erected in their minds. So these women are prime targets for slandering. It is unfortunate that the only measure of success for a woman still seems to be marriage! The response against Puthoor is vehement. The responding writers ask how he "knows" that Rajalakshmi felt a "something" towards him. Why are all single, independent, accomplished woman characterised as sex-starved?! It is unfortunate that "I slept with her or I could have slept with her" seems to be the favorite "put down" that has now spilled over into the public forums from the private all-male drinks parties where such remarks are regularly shamelessly made. Writer Ajitha correctly asks how the society would have responded if it was a female writer who wrote a similar "story" about a respected author from the past. The fact that there are couple of factual errors in Puthoor's article along with the convenient "burning" of Rajalakshmi's note is not helping his cause.
Yesterday while reading the morning papers, we were treated to a white-cheeked Barbet concert. These small green birds with their Zorro-like eye patterns look a lot like Pittas that fly in all the way from the Himalayas. There were six of them; the romantic in me would like to believe the configuration was three pairs. It was more of a cacophony than a concert. Loud and vibrant and lasted over quarter of an hour. The birds flitted between the numerous trees in the yards, tried perching on slanted coconut trunks, arranged themselves on the power lines and didn't care about the human attention from below.
Achan and I attended the previous day ceremony of our regular barber's daughter. We had always assumed that he was a young man and in appearance, he never looked more than 45 years old. But this was his second daughter. The bride looked hardly over 20. The reception was held today evening at the sadyalayalam (feast hall) of Manikanteshwaram temple in the outskirts of the city. The suburbs of Thiruvananthapuram are not advanced much from their village state. Manikanteshwaram area with numerous housing colonies around it like Nila nagar, Indira nagar and Neethi nagar don't look much different from areas near Amma's native village. Since traffic was less and the road newly tarred we decided to walk back till the official city entry point around a kilometer and half away. That was also a good excuse to walk some of the appam, gobi manchurian, kurma, pulav, jangiri and ice cream that we had tucked into at the reception.
High density of temples in the area. One of them was celebrating a festival. Couple of days ago, I had read about the elephants brought for their procession going berserk. Now huge speakers erected every few feet in the one kilometer radius around the temple were blaring devotional songs. The insecurity of religions reflected in such loudness reminds of the loud behavior of Bollywood wannabes.
The road becomes a bridge over Killiyar, one of two main streams that runs through the city. Plenty of land on either side have been walled off but no construction yet. Perhaps the stream regularly overflows during monsoon. Healthy coconuts trees around attest the moisture in the soil.
Since the road is a narrow single lane, at a sharp turning, a small traffic jam as a street-filling city bus meets a couple of cars going the other way. As the drivers try to figure a way out of the impasse, impatient two-wheeler drivers complicate the matter by sneaking in between. A chubby young lad in a sleeveless green tshirt walking by the side of the bus pretends to hold an imaginary steering wheel of the bus. He even shifts some gears and makes the matching sound. He smiles realizing that I have noticed.A young man, thinner than actor Dhanush, in a blue tshirt with "Why this Kolaveri" in white font has his ipod for protection from the temple's noisy blessings.
Numerous small shoes and slippers outside the 'Bharati' dance school patiently wait for the young dancing feet of their owners to return. A dead bird ready to rot outside the gate of a two-story home under construction. The peacock patterns of the home's first floor balcony railing stay solid. Symbols don't die.
Opening shots of what appears to be an exciting battle in the Malayalam literature scene have been fired in the "letters to the editor" section of this week's Mathrubhumi magazine.Rajalakshmi, who committed suicide in 1965 at the young age of 35, had been the most promising new talent in Malayalam in the early 60s. In fact she won the third Kerala state award for literature following the legends Urub and M.T. Vasudevan Nair. Three weeks ago, Mathrubhumi had published an article suggesting Rajalakshmi might have been depressed and suffering from the Sylvia Plath syndrome that afflicts writers bringing on tragic fate. Numerous luminaries were quoted in that article expressing their admiration for her work and their regret in her early, unfortunate death. She had left a suicide note saying that if she stays alive, she will continue to write and that'll only hurt the people around her. In the social setup that existed then it was pretty easy for a sensitive, talented but unmarried woman in her 30s to be driven into deep depression.
Unnikrishan Puthoor happens to be a reasonably famous author in Malayalam. His autobiography is being serialized in the same magazine. In the week after the article on Rajalakshmi appeared, he published an episode of his autobiography titled "A meeting". It was about his only meeting with her. He was a young aspiring writer then but had already published a couple of collections of short stories. She was already a star. He was tasked by a publisher to get a story from her for a new book. He reaches her home at night. He writes that initially she was arrogant but she becomes friendly on realizing that he is also a writer. She insists that he has dinner, sleeps over and leave only in the next morning's bus. He writes that she felt a "something" towards him. Her mother also encourages him to stay. He sleeps in the verandah where she had given him bedding. At night she appears adorned with flowers and asks if he has already slept. He writes that he pretends to be fast asleep and runs away before sunrise afraid to face her. She sends him the story by post after two weeks along with a note saying that she didn't expect him to be such a coward. Unnikrishnan Puthoor finishes by saying that unfortunately that note was burnt by accident.
Prominent female authors/activists including Sara Joseph, Dr. Sharadakutty, Ajitha and Devika have lashed out at Unnikrishnan Puthoor for what they are calling a cheap attempt to get publicity by slandering a talented woman who cannot defend herself anymore. They state that Unnikrishnan Puthoor's write-up is a glaring example of the male chauvinism and dominance that continues to plague Kerala's society. Women, here, even today are classified into three. First, the married type. Men are comfortable dealing with those. Afterall, they are under some other man's control and even if they stray it will be hardly for a few harmless affairs. The second category is prostitutes. Though they are unionized they have the law stacked against them, so men don't feel much threatened. The third are what Sharadakutty calls "ownerless goods". These are the independent unmarried young women, divorcees and widows who make the men most uncomfortable. They threaten the neat hierarchy, tribal mindset and control system that men have smugly, traditionally erected in their minds. So these women are prime targets for slandering. It is unfortunate that the only measure of success for a woman still seems to be marriage! The response against Puthoor is vehement. The responding writers ask how he "knows" that Rajalakshmi felt a "something" towards him. Why are all single, independent, accomplished woman characterised as sex-starved?! It is unfortunate that "I slept with her or I could have slept with her" seems to be the favorite "put down" that has now spilled over into the public forums from the private all-male drinks parties where such remarks are regularly shamelessly made. Writer Ajitha correctly asks how the society would have responded if it was a female writer who wrote a similar "story" about a respected author from the past. The fact that there are couple of factual errors in Puthoor's article along with the convenient "burning" of Rajalakshmi's note is not helping his cause.The responses have raised the issue to a level beyond the slander of a departed writer. Since it has become a commentary on the continuing dark undercurrents of the society, more responses and counter responses are bound to follow.
The paid, tabloid named Times of India launched its Kerala edition this morning. Saw a copy. It reminds me of the colorful, fully illustrated children's magazines from childhood. It is difficult to distinguish between news and advertisements. A 4-page supplement called Trivandrum Times with priceless info about the private lives of film actors! (Nayantara broke up! OMG!!!!) It's a pity indeed that people of Kerala had to survive without such amazing "news" till now!
Read a wonderful Malayalam short story titled "Pranayopanishad" (Love Upanishad) by V. T. James. A 45 year old man decides to fall in love again armed with all the previous love failure experiences. Sitting under the fan in a bar, he decides to find complete love despite being married for 19 years and having two kids. Naturally he discovers that with his financial and physical condition, it is impossible to find a new lover. Insight strikes then. Why not fall in love with the wife again?! The rest of the story are his struggles to make his wife fall in love with him again. She casually dismisses his plans as madness. But she is pleasantly surprised as he calls her by the petname from the early days of their marriage that they both had forgotten. Tender and humorous events follow.Beautiful. Heartwarming. Refreshing story.
nice
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