Indira Goswami: Margins and Beyond |
Ed. by Namrata Pathak & Dibyajyoti Sarma |
Routledge India (2022) | ISBN 9780367705466 | Pp 368 | £96

A comprehensive addition to the repository of Indira Goswami studies

Indira Goswami is a colossal figure in the modern Indian literature firmament. A multi-faceted and much translated writer, she is known by her pen-name Mamoni Raisom Goswami. A woman who went through much adversity in her life, Goswami, in her own words, writes, because it gives a meaning to her very existence. She writes, as Hiren Gohain, says, “as a means to heal the wounds, to express her deep disapproval of inhumanity in all forms”. Writing, for her, “is a rite of atonement” (76). For her deeply evocative and profound works of literature, she has been honoured with many awards, including the Sahitya Akademi Award, the Jnanpith Award and the Principal Prince Claus Laureate. Goswami’s novel, The Blue Necked Braja addresses the plight of the widows of Vrindavan, their destitution and exploitation, which is all the more poignant because she writes from her own lived experiences as a young widow and has seen the kind of prejudice and discrimination that conservative society holds towards widows. Her other novel, The Moth-Eaten Howdah of a Tusker, describing the life of the Assamese Brahmin widows in the Sattras of Assam, has been adapted into an award-winning film titled Adajya. Dr Goswami is also an authority on Ramayana studies and has researched and published extensively on different aspects of the epic. The Ramayana, for Goswami, is a “magnificent river”, and the story, for her, “constituted an unbroken narrative, both with respect to space and time” (114). Apart from her literary endeavours, it is also worth mentioning that Dr Goswami played a crucial role in actively trying to foster peace in the state of Assam by acting as mediator between the banned United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) and the Government of India. Although her efforts had then been marred by “baseless stories and rumours”, she denied that she was doing for publicity, or “personal gain and fame”, and reiterated that as a “humanist and a writer”, she wanted this “bloodthirsty time in Assam” to end and peace be restored (58).

This new anthology edited by Namrata Pathak and Dibyajyoti Sarma, which engages with the life and works of Indira Goswami is a comprehensive study, both creative and critical, which will facilitate a better understanding of the writer in context. The book is divided into nine sections and each section deals with a particular aspect of the writer and her works, giving the reader an in-depth knowledge of Goswami’s oeuvre. The book also includes a significant collection of rare photographs of Dr Goswami’s life for the edification and delight of her admirers.

The editors put forward the idea that “Goswami’s writings show how margins are constantly negotiated in the everyday narratives of belonging and unbelonging” (1). Section I includes relevant extracts from the novels and short stories of Indira Goswami translated into English. In a pertinent passage from In the Shadow of the Divine Flute Player translated by Gayatri Bhattacharya, Goswami writes about the pitiful life of the widows, in affecting detail. “The ‘ladies’ looked at each other. Then one of them, with sunken eyes shining with the brightness of the sun, replied, ‘When necessary, we sit at the gate of the “Tortoise temple”, and the Rangaji, and beg. When there is no other way, we spend the whole night in front of the temple, waiting and hoping, for the “malcha offerings”’ (25).

Section II focusses on the non-fictional works of Dr Goswami. She reminisces about her visit to Pakistan and has lovely experiences to share, despite the extreme antagonism that the two neighbours harbour for each other. She even wrote a poem describing her feelings for the country, calling it a “Celestial Land” (Border Conflict, Love from Pakistan and a Poem). On her visits to Pakistan, she would “seize every opportunity to walk on the wide avenues of Islamabad and Lahore” (55) and remembers the poster of the film Pinjar based on Amrita Pritam, her friend’s novella of the same name, adorning the walls on the streets. The range and virtuosity of Dr Goswami is apparent in her nuanced essays on topics as varied as advocating the immortality of the Assamese language, exposing the degrading condition of the Harijans of Raebareli or the wretched lives of the prostitutes of G.B. Road, Delhi, whose stares seemed as if they “would burn the world” (69).

Sections III, IV and V include essays on Indira Goswami by eminent litterateurs, writers, academics, critics, and scholars. These essays provide a critical insight into Goswami’s writings and introduce the readers to a nuanced understanding of her literary corpus, and what makes her a tour de force in contemporary Indian literature. Amit R Baishya reads her story Jatra through the ecocritical lens, exposing the militancy of the state and its effect on the lives of the common people ravaged by the warped ideals and dissent of the angry, agitated and misguided youth. He also critiques the apathetic attitude of the privileged classes who fail to comprehend the extent of the despair and vulnerability of those living in the margins. Goswami’s writing is sometimes also rendered controversial because of the disapproval she espouses for age-old traditions like animal sacrifice, questioning and condemning the act of leading innocent animals to the slaughter just for the sake of appeasing the Mother Goddess. Preetinicha Barman and Dwijen Sarma attempt at a reading of Goswami’s writings through the masculine gaze by introducing the concept of Männerbund, and refers to the sattra, with its feudalistic structure as a Männerbund. Nizara Hazarika focusses on a comparative study of women in the writings of Indira Goswami and Mahashweta Devi, and how they “represent the voices of the subaltern in the domains of power” and also “empower the gendered subaltern to emerge as a voice to mark” (194).

Section VI is significant because it makes us more familiar with the writer as she sits in conversation with journalists, academics, and critics. These interviews conducted over different periods of time in her life give us a candid understanding of the atmosphere of her mind. She is brutally honest about her depression and suicidal tendencies, and highly critical of certain time-honoured customs. A keen observer of men and manners, and an empathetic human being, she calls herself not a “feminist”, but a “humanist”. Goswami talks about how she wanted to write a novel on ULFA, and her sincere efforts to restore peace.

Section VII dwells on the importance of translation, the subtlety and profundity of the process. Uddipana Goswami in her article states that it is necessary to be “responsible” while translating as the spirit of the original must be retained. She also writes how Indira Goswami has beautifully upheld the distinctive flavour of the Assamese socio-cultural milieu, its language, and its customs in her own translation of The Moth-Eaten Howdah of the Tusker into English.

Section VIII gives us more intimate details of Dr Goswami’s life through her letters and her sister’s “confessions”. The translated letters along with snapshots of the original Assamese ones reveal the writer’s beautiful mind, the warmth of her heart and the abundant love that she had for her near and dear ones. The letters and the photographs are definitely a collector’s treasure.

The book concludes with a timeline of Dr Goswami’s personal and professional life, her achievements, and her experiences, in Section IX. Indira Goswami’s death was a huge loss to Assam, its people, and its literature. As Anuradha Sarma Pujari says, she was the voice and face of Assam, representing the state in South-East Asia. An iconoclast, “the red lips and the red bindi of her face acted symbolically as an ongoing revolt behind her sorrow” (314).

A writer who voiced her protest against the deeply entrenched regressive norms of a patriarchal society, Goswami’ works tear apart the civilised veneer of patriarchy by refusing to endorse its skewed notions regarding women. Goswami’s writings are so pregnant with meaning and interpretations that a comprehensive critical appreciation of her works is a humongous undertaking. As Aruni Kashyap aptly says, “When she speaks, Assam listens” (82). This new Writer in Context book on Indira Goswami will be of relevance for discerning scholars, researchers, critics, readers, and anyone who is interested in South Asian literature in general and Dr Goswami in particular.