Have you ever been on a roller-coaster ride? A pity, if your answer is no. It unleashes a rush of dopamine, heightening your senses. The ride commences with a gradual ascent, then suddenly propels you into dizzying twists and turns before coming to a slow halt. As you disembark, your mind processes the whirlwind of sensations, and a sense of accomplishment fills the heart. A similar medley of emotions is evoked when you finish reading Assassin by KR Meera, skilfully translated from Malayalam by J Devika.
Meet Satyapriya, a middle-aged woman working in Bengaluru, who survived a murder attempt. For the reader, this is a gradual ascent into her seemingly ordinary life. The shaken woman applies for leave and travels to her parents’ home in Kerala. Her father, Sivaprasad, once a flamboyant filmmaker, has been paralysed for the past 24 years due to a knife attack and barely communicates with anyone. But he shares a cryptic warning with Satyapriya about her life being in danger. Before she could prod him further, he collapses and dies.
Sivaprasad’s prophetic statement leaves her with a multitude of unanswered questions. Recollecting how her sister had died in a mysterious accident a few years ago, only adds to the unease. Provoked by her mother to stand true to her name, Satyapriya embarks on an elusive search, which takes her back to old lovers, lost lives and deep, dark secrets.
Set in 2016, when demonetisation had just hit the nation, Meera’s magnum opus is replete with myriad twists and turns. Originally published as Ghathakan, the over 650-page novel culminates with the anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination, a perfect allegory for a thriller, which raises uncomfortable questions about political motives and caste biases. Devika’s translation does justice to this time, just like the duo’s previous works—the award-winning Aarachaar translated to Hangwoman (2014) and Mohamanja as Yellow is the Colour of Longing (2016). The translator understands how certain elements may get lost in the process, so she doesn’t dare touch them—a treat for readers who understand Malayalam.
The “have you ever…” question spurs its head every few pages in Assassin. The novel starts with the line, “Have you ever faced an attempt on your life? A pity, if your answer is no.” But its protagonist, Satyapriya, has, and so had the late journalist-activist, Gauri Lankesh, in 2017 to whom Meera has dedicated her book. In her ‘Author’s Note’, she writes how the novel is an attempt to document the times and lives of the women of her generation as witnessed by her. “It is my own humble experiment with the Indian political truth,” Meera confesses without mincing any words. Her scathing tongue-in-cheek remarks never go unnoticed, be it a commentary on the class divide, deep-rooted corruption that mars the system or even the ways in which the society considers women as objects to be pawned.
Assassin is a novel that questions the deeply entrenched caste system. It whiplashes patriarchy and presents the many shades of gender violence. It also serves as a mirror to the political changes the country has faced in the past decade.
Writers often have overarching themes, which serve as the foundation for their novels. These themes often reflect the author’s personal beliefs or experiences and are explored in various ways in their body of work. Like Toni Morrison, who frequently delves into the themes of identity and race. For Meera, the overarching theme is often resilience, and particularly of women, who question societal norms—with political upheavals as the backdrop—while facing ironies of gender violence at different levels. Be it Chetna of Hangwoman, Bhavana of Qabar or Satyapriya of Assassin, Meera’s protagonists do not rise like phoenix, rather they ebb and flow like a river. She never shies away from projecting them as fierce yet flawed, compassionate yet indifferent, ruthless yet kind.
Even while surviving the conundrums of everyday life, her women are unapologetic about the bold choices they make. Like Satyapriya, or her mother—a woman of indomitable spirit, who finds poetry and humour in every situation despite the disdain she suffers from her higher-caste in-laws, the jealousy of her siblings or the perceived indifference towards her daughter’s quest for truth.
And, as the motives behind her misfortunes are unveiled, and Satyapriya slowly finds her footing, you, the reader, disembark, your mind still processing the complex web of relationships and the emotions that drive them. Have you ever read a KR Meera novel? It’s a pity, if your answer is no.