The place we come from determines who we are. Our roots stretch out from our immediate family, our home, out to our town, our community and its history. The Saga of Muziris, by Sethu (translated from the Malayalam Marupiravi, i.e. rebirth, by Prema Jayakumar), is a chronicle of a town in Kerala and how far down its roots really go.
Aravindam, our protagonist, is a native of Kerala, from a small town called Chendamangalam near Kochi. However, he is now settled in Mumbai and is steadily losing his connection with his hometown. Everything changes when an archaeologist friend of his invites him to come back home and visit the nearby excavation at Pattanam—assumed to be the legendary port of Muziris on the Silk Route.
For Aravindam, this is like waking up from a coma. He meets friends at Chendamangalam, reawakens his memories of early years, and begins to absorb the legendary stories of Muziris.
His new understanding of history leads Aravindam to write a story of characters set in Muziris during its heyday. The intent is to reconcile himself with his roots. Convincing his family that roots matter, and even his childhood matters becomes a hard task.
Muziris, however, is only a trigger, not a destination. Sethu uses this starting point to talk of the various communities and connections that this tiny town has had over the centuries. There was the Paliyam Struggle, a social event against casteism. There were the Jews of Kerala, who came generations ago, but left for Israel when it was founded.
There are the Christians, struggling to adapt the cultural identity into their own unique flavour. And above all, there are the various cultural institutions: festivals, schools, vocations, the extended family, the mutating social strata, all seen through the eyes of Aravindam and his friends. Over the course of the book, through conversations, through the inner story that Aravindam writes, through the reactions of the people around Aravindam, Sethu chronicles the expansion of one’s background. He talks of the reaching out of one’s roots to new fertile territory, of the change in self-image that comes from a glorious past.
Over the course of the book, through conversations, through the inner story that Aravindam writes, through the reactions of the people around Aravindam, Sethu chronicles the expansion of one’s background. He talks of the reaching out of one’s roots to new fertile territory, of the change in self-image that comes from a glorious past.
The book does not have a simple storyline and that may frustrate some readers. The journey through the book is what matters here, not just the ending. The flow is deliberately random, leading us through Aravindam’s journey of learning and remembrance. The ending, too, is not the conventional one—I will not reveal it here, but it leaves one with hope and a sense that what is lost may be found again.
Prema Jayakumar’s translation is excellent—the language is smooth and flows well, but never lets us forget that this is an Indian talking. The few words judiciously left in the original Malayalam only add to the flavour. Jayakumar has been translating interesting Malayalam books for decades, and the experience shows.
The Saga of Muziris is an acquired taste, but one that lingers. It is likely to make you want to go back to your own roots. And maybe to the Wikipedia post on Muziris and the pepper trade.