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The Novel is a story of neglect, not even active neglect at that. That would be worth fighting back. But how do you core with passive motiveless neglect? Worse, how do you write about it? How do you chronicle a life without highs and lows, a life without drama, a life lived in perennial shadow? More, how do you condense into synopsis the story of a life that spreads without intent like an ink-drop on blotting paper.
As often the case with the middle child, the novel`s protagonist is born with a baggage. She is neither the or the youngest favourite. The fact that the child is a girl makes matters worse in the South Indian State of Kerala, vintage 1940s. In the prevaleny feudal mood, Kalyanikuty grows up internalising this depressed self-image. In her matrilineal (and deviously patriarchal) jont family there is no dearth of elderly conventional wisdom to rationalise her situation as fate. In he event, nothing liberating happens to Kalyanikuty in the entire lifetime. Life is a freeze. Only time flows leaving its inevitable imprints.
Kalyanikutty goes through perfunctory schooling, marriage to (a widower) and motherhood. All of which add up to a series of rituals where she is is a mere prop. Nothing makes a difference to her social status or self esteem. The novel is singularly anti-heroic talke. Unlike the familiar ones that chronicle the woman who fights her way of social morass.
Interiors of the feudal manor, Kalyanikuty finds no privat space. And the village around is but a better-lit extension. For, the woman can step out to the village school or the temple only in broad daylight. Days aren`t hers, nights aren`t hers. A life that goes like a pointless straight line that ultimately comes to a full stop with the inescapable intervention in the nature -- death. That is why this story recall begins. To make up for a lifetime of indifference, Kalyanikutty gets posthumous attention.
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Pages : 256
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