Skip to main content

MISTRESS

I attended a Kathakali appreciation course that whetted my appetite to see it all-the colourful stories of Gods and Goddesses and Kings and Queens so expressively told. But the character that I fell in love with was a lesser one-the fisherman ordinary. The silvery fish tossing in the water mesmerizes him so he casts his net into the river. He pulls in his net. Nothing. So he casts his net again. Nets nothing. Then it dawns on him that it is not the fish but it is the reflection of the eyes of the women bathers that had beguiled him. The wonder and the amusement......

Book Review

Mistress

The strand of gold that embellishes the narrative of Anita Nair’s latest offering “Mistress” is the tale of Koman, the Kathakali artist, while the darker skeins pattern the drudgery of his niece Radha’s marriage and her sexual escapades. The story unfolds on the banks of the River Nila, where Shyam runs a resort catering to tourists while his indifferent wife Radha begins an affair with an American travel writer Chris who comes to interview Koman. Anita Nair, draws on the techniques of Kathakali and uses it to tell this story in many voices while attempting to decode the language of Kathakali- “the language without sounds.”

Kathakali is an exacting art form and Koman the veshakaran(artist), is drawn into its vortex wherein even his real emotions are used to fuel the emotions of the numerous characters that he plays. The gruelling years of learning and the higher understanding of the art form perfects the artist but it also takes a lot out of Koman. To quote the text, “Slowly over the next eight years, I discovered the different aspects of being a wearer of guises. To match gesture and expression, to perform intricate footwork, to be both nimble and vigorous, to enact emotion without words, to add layers of interpretation to a single phrase, to raise myself from a performer to a character.” Slowly the art and the artist merge into a single entity for without the vesham there is no place for a Kathakali artist.

The novel dwells on the dilemma Koman faces as he remains steadfast to an art that rules him while around him Kathakali gets diluted and is sold as a tourist attraction and success is defined by money and awards. But Koman cannot compromise.

Anita Nair has eloquently detailed the navarasas, the tools that fashion the language of Kathakali: love, contempt, sorrow, fury, courage, fear, disgust, wonder, peace. “Mistress” gives a splendid insight into the complex world of Kathakali –in a scene in Nalacharitam, Damayanti uses thirty- three expressions to depict just the pain of loss alone. And “these emotions do not include sorrow, for sorrow is an absolute and the sense of loss fleeting.”

If only Nair had choreographed the smaller characters too, like the fisherman or the carpenter, the novel would have been much more interesting.

* * * * *

Authorspeak

All three of your novels “The Better Man”, “Ladies Coupe” and “Mistress” have dealt with different subjects.

Anita Nair: Yes. I write primarily for myself. I try different subjects otherwise it becomes formulaic and it will bore me. Even as I write I zone into the subject and enjoy researching on the minutiae.

Why did you choose Kathakali as the theme of your latest novel?

Anita Nair: When I was working for an advertisement firm in Bangalore, a Kathakali artist came to the office and did some mudras while the office staff giggled. It was a gimmick by some media firm. I began to wonder how anyone who had done years of study to master this art form could do something so degrading. So I began to read up and enrolled as a short- term student at Kalamandalam for a couple of months. It was an intense experience and at that time I had no idea how this art form was going to be woven into a novel or what form it was going to play.

Kathakali is perhaps one art form that requires the artist to apply his mind and it allows you to be yourself. It is usually played by the upper castes, who are familiar with the puranas and they give a mental and emotional dimension to the dance activity. It comes from one’s own understanding, within the frame of a puranic story the artist gives his interpretation. There would have been a more vigorous interpretation if the other castes too were involved.

The Nalacharitam is never taught technically because the artist has to understand and present it after watching other performances. I did not want to do a coffee table book on Kathakali and I wanted to tell a story about this wonderful art form that would perhaps interest ten people.

Was this novel written for the Western readers?

Anita Nair: No. I wrote it for the Indian readers and I always get my books first published in India before it is published outside.

But the book is sprinkled liberally with the F word. Your previous novels did not have that.

Anita Nair: In Mistress the characters are younger and contemporary and there is a certain naturalness to the word when these characters use it.

In “The Better Man”, Kerala appears fresher and more appealing but in “Mistress” Kerala has changed much. Do you see drastic changes in Kerala?

Anita Nair: I come thrice a year to Kerala from Bangalore and I am constantly observing from the sidelines. It is frightening how much Kerala is changing and everything is being geared for tourism. From the element of nature, the cuisine is made more palatable and even the noble art is diluted and made more accessible for the tourists. I begin to wonder where you see the real Kerala.

You have come down very harshly on dance critics in Mistress.

Anita Nair: Kathakali does not need virulent critics. I feel whatever a critic does not understand is misconstrued. If one should criticize then one should have a sound sense of what one is criticizing. It is the same for literary critics.

(First published by The New Indian Express. Some changes have been made.)

Comments

Anonymous said…
Good stuff. I am a fan of Anita Nair too.

Popular posts from this blog

Book Review: An Autobiography Of A Sex Worker by Nalini Jameela

I am 51 years old. And I would like to continue to be a sex worker.” This is how the candid and defiant opening statement in Nalini Jameela’s autobiography in Malayalam, Oru Lymgika-thozhilaliyude Atmakadha, goes. It at once throws a challenge at society’s double standards — harsh on prostitutes and soft on the clients. Nalini Jameela, who is the coordinator of the Kerala Sex Workers’ Forum, reveals her sordid story with no trace of compunction. Nalini was a 24-year-old widow when she entered the profession to feed her two children. At that time she did not think about the repercussions of her act. She writes, “I was earning Rs 4.50 at a tile factory near Trissur. My mother-in-law served me with an ultimatum to either give her five rupees a day to look after my children or leave the house. I recounted my woes to a friend, who introduced me to Rosechechi. Rosechechi promised me Rs 50 if I spent time with a man. The first thought that came to my mind was that my children would be looked...

SnooTea: Just My Style

(Photographs by Minu Ittyipe) It began on a lark to spiff up my morning cuppa. Oh well, I just wanted a change from what I had been drinking all my life. I am not complaining about the faithful brew that I stir up with tea dust, it does merrily improve with two extra spoonfuls of sugar but I was just plain bored with the regular. My concept of a cup of tea was corralled in the traditional Indian style- coppery coloured liquid topped with plenty of milk and sugar but now there was in me this undeniable thirst for a more delicate bouquet. Tranquilitea, Coonoor Curiously, though grown in our own backyard, few of us have heard of the orthodox leaf tea, forget the Silver Tips, Golden Tips and the White Tea etc.. that quietly find their way to the export market. To make a foray into this relatively unknown terrain, I headed for Tranquilitea, a tea lounge in the Nilgiris, for a cup of “Tippy” tea. On a sober note, you are cautioned not to confuse “Tippy” with the more commonplace “Tipsy” for...

At 17, V S Achuthanandan joined the Communist Party

Born on October 20, 1923, VS Achuthanandan joined the Communist Party in 1940 when he was just 17 years old. Abject poverty and deprivation were the only things that flourished in Punnapra, Kerala, in those days. My father had a grocery shop close to our house so we did not suffer too badly when we were young. He was a social activist and a SNDP Yogam leader and respected by all.  He had leased some land from the landlords in Vendhalathara and cultivated it. He built a house there too. In this way, along with the grocery store, we could make ends meet. Punnapra school had only up to class three, so I joined Kalarkode school to do class four. It was in an area where the upper caste lived and one had to walk past the temple to go to school. The elite would ridicule the less fortunate, beat and chase them away. Many children discontinued their studies. I was once attacked by the well-to-do students and they asked me. “Who are you to walk this way to school?” I tried to st...