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Indira Goswami
is the chosen one. How many Indian writers can accede to that seat of
glory-the Jnanpith Award? But she did it effortlessly. Now Goswami figures
in the pantheon of Indian literature. So it is with much expectation that
you grab her new book, The Shadow of Kamakhya, a posse of eight short
stories translated from Assamese. Reading a book by a writer like Gowsami-known
for her sporadic brilliance-is an exciting experience, though it is not
without some anxiety as to where it would lead you. The new book leads
you to the author's home state, Assam. Sadly, a few pages through the
book and your worst fear is confirmed. Here's another ordinary book thriving
on stereotypes.
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| THE SHADOW OF KAMAKHYA By Indira Goswami Rupa
Price: Rs 295 Pages: 195 |
 The
stories are set in the exotic Assamese countryside where xiju trees grow
in abundance and where, if the severed head of the sacrificial buffalo
turns to the north, it foretells good fortune. Assam is a rendezvous for
the dark forces of superstition and revolutionary insurgency. More importantly,
the mighty Brahmaputra flows through the state. In such a place, any writer
with a fertile imagination has just to pick up his pen.
Sure, Goswami is a dexterous storywriter. The title story in the collection
holds testimony to that. But that isn't enough. Where you expect a riot
of images, you are treated to barren imagination. The story, The Journey,
is a case in point. On their way back from Kaziranga after attending a
conference, Professor Mirajkar and the author get stuck in a forest village
as their car breaks down. An old man takes them to his tea shop and offers
them tea and tales from his family and his village. Floods, insurgency,
a love story between a soldier and a village girl, it's all there. But
nothing finds its way to your heart. The Biblical deluge that displaces
thousands? The river has swallowed up many of the Namghars on its bank.
This is it. Nothing more. An outside soldier making love to a girl from
the insurgent village? Read on. The girl had an affair with the soldier
from the Indian Army, who had come to flush out militants from this area.
(The only redeeming idea here is the term Indian Army.) To make it brief,
the book's problem could be easily diagnosed as arteriosclerosis of imagination.
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CURRENT
ISSUE DEC 24, 2001
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