Migrants and Malayali-ness

Recommendations is a weekly column, in our Books section, where we invite a well-known author to recommend four books translated from an Indian language. These are not just recommendations, but books that have made an impact on their creative world. 

This month, we will feature author Anita Nair's selections.

I discovered the best of world literature through translation. I discovered the best of Indian literature through translation. But there was a hiatus in between. 

The earlier translations of Indian literature seemed stilted, pedantic even, and incapable of catching the pulse of the actual writing. For a while I despaired, and went back to world literature in translation. There were so many writers to discover and as is my custom, once I decide that I like a writer’s style, I try and read everything they have written. So, I went through the South Americans first – Amado, Marques, Borges, Llosa, Allende; then came the Europeans – Canetti, Sebald, Lampedusa, Marai…

In the late 90’s during one of my monthly visits to Premier Bookshop, Mr Shanbagh, the bookseller who knew of my penchant for translations suggested I pick up a translation of M. Mukundan’s “On the Banks of the Mayyazhi,” translated by Gita Krishnankutty. My acquaintance with Malayalam writing at that point was limited to M.T. Vasudevan Nair’s work, through his films, and O.V. Vijayan’s “The Legends of Khasak”, translated by the author himself. Even though the world they described was familiar to me, it didn’t grab me by the throat. I felt a distance between what had been originally written and what it had been translated to. 

But, “Mayyazhippuzhayude Theerangalil” or “On the Banks of the Mayyazhi” was different. For the first time I was excited by an Indian writer whose work spoke to me with the true voice of genius. I decided to work on my rudimentary Malayalam reading skills so I could try and read Mukundan in the language he wrote in. That was how I read Mukundan’s “Savitiri Yude Aranjyalam.” It was a slim book and I was glad I read it in Malayalam. It gave me a sense of the writer’s original style and what his writing is imbued with. More recently, I decided it was time to read Mukundan’s “Delhi: A Soliloquy,” translated by Fathima E.V. and Nandakumar K. The book in its original form and as a translation had won several prestigious prizes which only made me hesitate when the translation first reached me. Having been on several juries myself, I have discovered time and again that I don't truly agree with their selections. But after a visit to Delhi, I knew it was time to pick up the book. I wanted to see Delhi through Mukundan’s lens.

Sahadevan is in his twenties when he reaches Delhi. And shortly thereafter the Indo-Chinese war happens. The unfolding of a city begins here, as it transforms through the next three decades. The protagonist of the book is the city itself.  Everyone else, including Sahadevan, are merely supporting actors. What worked for me about this specific translation was how it seamlessly captured the cadence of Malayalam without making it sound contrived or forced. The characters, their lives, and the writing is imbued with a ‘Malayali-ness’ which makes it distinct. By this, I do not mean the speckling of Malayalam words in the text, or food descriptions. What Mukundan gave shape to was the Malayali eco system existing in a city like New Delhi. Using customs, beliefs, politics, and even casual references, the writer captures the eternal migrant dilemma of  straddling two worlds not knowing where they belong – the one they inhabit, and the one that lives within them – namely Kerala.