The struggle for women’s agency is not new. For centuries, patriarchal norms have dictated women’s lives and choices. In his latest book, The Grammar of Silence, senior industry leader R Seshasayee draws on historical narratives to examine enduring social inequalities. Spanning five centuries of Tamil history, the book weaves together the stories of three women — Vinodhini, Mary, and Dharma — whose lives are shaped by different struggles, circumstances, and social structures. At their core, however, is a shared refusal to remain powerless.
In conversation with CE, the author shares how, through resistance, the protagonists overcame their challenges, reflecting their progress. Excerpts:
Patriarchy remains a pressing social issue in India. What observations about society prompted you to write The Grammar of Silence?
It isn’t one moment. It has been building up, and there are one or two triggers that prompted me to write this book. I was going through a research article that talked about the time that an employed woman spends at home doing unpaid work — 4.3 hours — compared to the average 45 minutes a man spends on unpaid work at home.
I also read a few tweets that said while education has certainly made a difference for women in terms of employment and economic independence, it has also resulted in women working two shifts, one at the office and one at home. That is corroborated by what we see around us. And what are we doing about this? This has been with us for several centuries, millennia even. I believe that patriarchy has been one of the foundational values of constructing this society.
Secondly, a television debate in Tamil about some of the conventions and customs in Tamil homes, particularly in the villages and districts, clearly showed that patriarchy is very much alive. It’s not gone anywhere. So, I said, let me write. All of us have impressions about social issues. Is that enough to make a change? No, I understand that. But every wave is made of billions of problems.
Why did you choose to pair the words ‘grammar’ and ‘silence’ in the title, and what do they signify in the context of women’s experiences?
When silence is optional, it is beautiful. You can wrap yourself in your own thoughts and remain silent because you are in another world — an internal world. But when silence is imposed, you ought to not talk. And that position has a grammar to it. It has rules and regulations as to when you should talk, how to convey your dissent, if any. All of that restricts the beauty of silence.
Silence is okay. It is the grammar that spoils the beauty of silence and makes it, in fact, extremely threatening. That’s what women have gone through over the years. Sometimes, not even realising that there is grammar, an implicit grammar.
Why did you choose to retain the identities of the three women across five centuries rather than introduce different characters for each era?
The three protagonists and their storylines continue to remain the same for 500 years, and that’s a metaphor to say that the story of our society is the same. The story of the woman is the same. Patriarchy is all-pervasive. It is not confined to one caste or religion. Manusmriti, the Bible, and even the Islamic scriptures, in one form or the other retain the elements of patriarchy.
The book spans five centuries because the roots of patriarchy are very historic and ancient. There are patriarchal rituals handed down. We need to modify the rituals to reflect the idea of equality. So, that is one part of it.
The other part is that Tamil Nadu, in the last five hundred years, had the Nayakas, the Marathas, the Dutch, the Danish, the British, the French, and the Sultanate rule the land. What we now claim as Tamil culture has been very heavily influenced, one way or the other, by all the various cultures that came in. But patriarchy remained untouched.
How much of the novel is rooted in real-life stories of women who challenged the social order?
I wanted to celebrate historical women who stood against the system and fought for their rights. Hence, some real-life characters come at the end, such as TP Rajalakshmi, who was the first heroine and woman director in Tamil. Coming from a conservative Brahmin family, she gets thrown out of her home. And then, the little girl goes straight to the theatre and sings in public. No girl had ever ascended the stage, but she just went. She commands a huge fan following. Then, she also produced a movie called Miss Kamala (1936), which is about women’s rights. What I brought into this book is a very small part of what I know of her. Rajalakshmi has deeply inspired me.
In a way, this book is a celebration of both the women who fought against the system and those who paved the way for the people to follow. I have come across some of the incidents mentioned in the book through research and some in real life. For example, the character Lalitha has been allowed to write only during menstruation. There was indeed a woman poetess from Andhra Pradesh in history who is supposed to have composed Bhakti songs only during her periods because that’s when she found time and freedom. And she apologises that she has to do this. There’s also a scene in which Lalitha is unable to hold her child’s arms when she’s dying. That is something that happened in my family. It was difficult writing that because I know that this is a real incident.
Your work engages with deeply entrenched social problems. Is fiction, for you, a way of questioning them?
Writing to me is very cathartic because I have opinions on social issues that I need to somehow communicate. We live in a society that is not just imperfect but deeply problematic in many ways. Some societal issues are endemic to the Indian society, such as the caste system; some, such as patriarchy, are almost foundational to the very design of society. Then, there are others, which are the unintended byproducts of social evolution, such as climate change and the drug menace. All of us have views on the causes and effects of all of these, as well as on the solutions or lack of them. I have mine, and I have an urge to express them. I choose the medium of fiction to convey them. When my characters speak my thoughts, and they sound appropriate to the situations, I feel validated.
Why is it important to write this book today?
The last hundred years have been the golden years of women’s empowerment.Women have become more economically independent, a first necessary step towards agency. But the demon of patriarchy has not disappeared; it has just retreated to the recesses of society’s mind. It strikes when it can and where it can. The family that waits for the working woman to come back from work and then perform the domestic chores; the organisation that expects the woman executive to be disproportionately more effective than her male colleagues to earn her title; the panchayat that elects a woman sarpanch who is expected to cede power to her husband. Patriarchy thrives in all these places and everywhere else. It’s good to remind ourselves — that includes not only females, but conscientious males too — that the fight is far from over. Hence, the book.