The purring of a lioness

, blunt, explicit to the point of embarrassing the prudes. This book is not a reflection of any of that.

It is an innocent rendering of an innocent childhood, evoking the lushness of Kerala and the vacantness, to the child Kamala, of the then Calcutta.

It reads more like a story, full of the small happenings of an ordinary childhood of one who belonged to a relatively upper middle class family, if one can use such a term for a Kerala village family of the 1940s.

This is a translation of one of two volumes published in 1987/89, but is meant to be read as a standalone book. As a memoir, the book reads very well. The language is smooth even in translation. Also in its favour is the fact that the Malayalam words have not been italicised.

More so since then there would have been a book with two fonts fighting for supremacy! There are, however, just a bit too many non-English words and therefore the accessibility to non-Malayali readers is a trifle limited. Some editing would, therefore, have helped.

The question that arises is that if the original work was published in 1987, and there exists an autobiography in English already what was the provocation to bring out the English version at this point of time? Could it be that there was desire to cash in on the renewed interest in her due to her startling and brazen conversion to Islam!

This book is strictly not an autobiography as it does not tell about the life of the young Kamala Das because of the many silences in it "" some of them of them too resounding not to make one question them. That she is sent to the village from Calcutta due to the danger of wartime is well taken.

But she also periodically returns to the village, obviously therefore she also returns to the war-torn Calcutta. Why this coming and going, and that too alone?

Then the point of her father's social importance is clearly stated but does not come out. She does not dwell on her father much. But the point is, why doesn't she? He was curt and stern (so were a lot of parents in those days) to the point of harshness. But none of this is grist to her famous mill.

Let alone her father, there is barely a mention of her mother either. She seems to be an ethereal figure who hardly ever swims into our ken. Surely she did in the life of the young Kamala. But from the book it would seem to be not so.

The memoir echoes with the small joys and mild questions raised by her, but does not talk of the angst or passions of growing up. There is a factoid about the dirty nails of the women of Punnayurkoolam, be they rich or poor.

This should mean something, but precisely what is not at all clear. There are hints of her sweet-sad aloneness. For instance, her attachment to Saralechi because she took a keen interest in Kamala's school, which her own parents did not, makes for poignant reading because there is no obvious rancour in its telling.

That she was a curious child with all the childish desires is also nicely told "" witness her questions like, "Will I be beautiful?" That's realistic but when told she would not be as much as she would like, there is no remorse, is surprising.

And her sotto voce remark that Calcutta women were graceful without having to wear an onnar which women had to, are piquant reminders of a child's genuine questions that are not voiced. This is similar to the behaviour of most children.

There are strange attempts at what I can only call "philosophistries" as when she says authoritatively, "Each person is the axis of his own world and no one can control the speed at which that world spins." That kind of statement is neither here nor there and specious to boot.

There are cameos scattered throughout the book, e.g. "In those days ugly men and women did not conduct discussions on sexual anarchy." What is the point of this gem? And what does ugly mean or have anything to do with it?

Or the one about the south's veneration for fair skin? Or even that, "all a woman needs is a head and breasts. They don't need anything else", in connection with doll-making?

I keep puzzling about the silences. What could be the explanation behind them? Kamala Das is not known to pull her punches. Is she then being polite about, among others, her parents? Or is she coy and does not want to defile their memory or hurt her relatives by writing gory details and wash dirty family linen in public?

This is laudable as it stands but is not characteristic. But then, it is, after all, a memoir and only that. If you read it as just that you would not be disappointed as I was since I expected more.

A CHILDHOOD IN MALABAR
A memoir

Kamala Das
Penguin
Price: Rs 200
Pages: 218