Mahasweta Devi’s contribution to Bengali literature is unparalleled and Seagull Books, through religious and meticulous translations, has been bringing her works to readers worldwide. She wrote with urgency and a clinical eye for the moral, political, and sexual ambiguities of her times. Bengali literature is known for its sentimentalism and yet Devi stayed far away from it. In a writing career spanning nearly six decades, she consistently addressed the injustice that had become indispensable to the lives of beggars, maids, daily wage labourers – the poorest of the poor.
I was excited about Truth/Untruth, a new Mahasweta Devi novel in translation. The blurb was promising, the excerpt I read was exciting, and Anjum Katyal seemed just the right translator for the text. But what I was not expecting was to be so completely and effortlessly blown away by the book. You see, I was in something of a reading rut – I was reading book after book but none of them quite seemed to shake me out of a stupor; a book that would grab me by the collar, look me in the eye, and stop me from checking my phone every other minute. Truth/Untruth turned out to be that book. And it might be the solution for your reading slump too.
A deathly nuisance
Arjun Chakravarty was born Sanatan Pushilal – an unglamorous name for an unglamorous man. He made a name for himself (quite literally) by assuming a Brahmin surname, making lots of (black) money from contractor work, marrying Kumkum, the younger daughter of a retired Supreme Court judge and most recently, buying a posh flat in the Khidirpur area of Kolkata. Khidirpur – infamous for its counterfeit markets and crime-ridden docks and slums, but still a prime spot for real estate.
As his wife never let him forget, he is a man lacking in “culture” but he more than makes up for it with his money and expensive home. His wife’s family – “culture vultures” – and their lavish lifestyle are things of mysteries to him. He doesn’t understand how or why women should drink with men and his 60-year-old mother-in-law’s salon excursions are truly baffling to him. Neither can he fathom how his wife can enjoy meals of butter, cheese, and bread.
Arjun is a humble man – Keshtokali, an Ayurvedic kabiraj, is his guru in disguise and he lusts after Jamuna, the maid who lives in the slums. A common man with common tastes. When Arjun’s pregnant wife goes to her parent’s home to prepare for childbirth, Arjun sleeps with Jamuna and gets her pregnant. Chaos is upon him. He cannot afford to have his carefully built sandcastle washed away by the waves of this avoidable tragedy. In haste and a moment of decency, Arjun offers to take Jamuna to a doctor to terminate the pregnancy. Fully enlightened about the ways of the babu, Jamuna also asks for monetary compensation. Her plans are in place and she could soon come into possession of thousands of rupees. Unfortunately for Jamuna, she turns up dead.
Arjun panics and hopes Keshtokali will bring him out of the mess. His guru is disgusted by Arjun’s lowly behaviour and notes how his disciple has blamed the government, police, the girl herself, and her absent husband – everyone except himself – for her death. But how can poor Arjun explain to Keshtokali, and the powers that be, that he was only responsible for Jamuna’s pregnancy and not her death? This is not a good thing for Arjun Chakravarty – resident of Barnamala apartments, soon-to-be-father, and hoarder of shoddily earned money.
A terrifying comedy of errors
Thankfully for Arjun, he understands the urgency of the death. More importantly, of the covering up of it. What follows is a terrifying comedy of errors. More and more people are unwittingly roped in for getting rid of Jamuna’s rotting body – the next-door mad woman’s devoted husband, Jamuna’s Muslim admirer and fellow servant at Barnamala, and finally, Arjun himself. A long drawn out tale of darkly comedic payback.
Mahasweta Devi had a terrific sense of humour. You can see it as she describes the ways of the nouveau riche as well as the moneyed, upper-class gentry of Kolkata. The two Kolkatas – of the slum-dwelling maidservants and of the affluent urban residents – are always rubbing against each other, always in danger of a spark catching a fire. The residents of flashy apartments employ these slum dwellers by the dozens to cook and clean for them, and safeguard their wealth. The exhibitionist lifestyle of Arjun and Kumkum is an eyesore to the poor servants that crowd their flat. The expensive soaps and shampoos, satin bed sheets and pillowcases, and most importantly, the rampant wastage of food. There is only one way to balance the scales of injustice – by robbing these helpless, dependent rich homeowners of their money and belongings. So the wheels of the world go round and round.
There is no mystery in Jamuna’s death – the why and how is revealed without any ceremony. The linear narration, as it moves ahead, gets murkier as one realises the extent of maliciousness that the so-called genteel class is capable of to safeguard their reputation and social standing. Devi’s exposé is as scintillating as it is morbid.
Mahasweta Devi’s electrifying writing has found a worthy translator in Anjum Katyal. She is playful while bringing into English the different registers of the Bengali language, clever while portraying the confusion Arjun and other Barnamala residents, and perfectly imitating the restless Arjun as his carefully constructed world begins to unravel. Katyal is astute, sharp, and the perfect mediator for Devi’s words – no one else could have done a better job. You might pick up Truth/Untruth for its social commentary and dark humour, but it is Katyal’s impeccable translation that makes the novel an unmissable read for the English-language audience.
Truth/Untruth, Mahasweta Devi, translated from the Bengali by Anjum Katyal, Seagull Books.