"Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not everyday that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed."
- Waiting for Godot
Often, tragicomedies turn out to be the most realistic depiction of life, portrayed in all its tenderness, subtle hues, and delicate intricacies. Well before Irish writer Samuel Beckett eternalised the pathos of a perennial wait in 1952, raising a few pertinent questions on the meaning of life and the futility of human hope, a young writer on the other side of the globe, had delved deep into the inner-conflicts of the simple souls around him, with the passage of time.
Standing on the margins of those mundane lives, MT deftly wove his words around their existential crises, choosing more often than not, to focus on the battles they fought within their chaotic minds. It's almost as if he had opened a window into a familiar social milieu in a bid to document the lives scattered around him, for the generations to come.
Each time he came across a new character, or stumbled upon someone whom he found fascinating, MT handpicked and preserved them in all their flawed beauty, to be savoured and relished by the discerning. Seven decades later, there now stands etched a plethora of literary, mythical and fictional characters in myriad hues, at times imbued with dark undertones, as an oblique reference to the social apathy of his times; perhaps carrying within themselves, minuscule shades of the author himself.
What makes MT Vasudevan Nair, who passed away on December 25, stand apart from the rest of his contemporaries is his intricate character portrayals. His works stand out solely due to the striking individuality of his characters, more than the themes around which these stories were woven, or their narrative styles.
As the writer himself had once famously stated, he never had to pen an autobiography, as a collation of all his short stories could well be his biography! Noted literary critic KS Ravikumar makes a pertinent observation on how MTvian characters seem to reflect their creator's own life.
"None of his protagonists lead normal family lives. Be it Appunni who comes from a shattered familial system, with no family of his own, or Govindankutty of Asuravithu, who though technically married, is unable to reap its fruits, or even Sethu of Kaalam for that matter, who gets married, but is unable to partake of family-centred joys and contentment," Ravikumar points out.
"And what about Bheema? He gets married to Hidumbi, but is unable to live with her. He has concerns about his son Ghatotkacha, but is forced to stand by helpless, while his son is killed to aid the Pandavas' victory. His protagonists tend to exist in the absence of a social unit called family," observes Ravikumar.
Most of MT’s prime characters also don't have a towering father figure over them. "Bheema had the existential crisis of not knowing who his father was. MT's characters are a complex encapsulation of modern existential crises, cleverly placed in familiar milieus of rural social life," Ravikumar adds.
Delve deeper, and each MTivian character would seem to reflect his own life to a great extent. "MT wrote about his own experiences and life," is how Ravikumar chooses to see it.
In his short stories like Ninte Ormaykk or Neelakkunnukal, distinct personality traits of his characters can easily be traced back to their creator. As the writer himself reiterated time and again, the absence of a father figure in his childhood left an indelible mark on his evolution as a writer.
That his characters tend to be more aligned with social outcasts is a well-known fact. In Randamoozham, Bheema comes across as the outcast among the five Pandavas. In physical terms, it is he who guards them, ensuring their safety and well being. But when it comes to spending time with Droupadi, something that he always looks forward to, the second-born Pandava is consistently insulted and brushed aside. Bheema is thus obviously cloaked with a sense of self-pity, that no one other than himself, is able to empathize with.
MT's works also stand testimony to the transformative history that Kerala underwent in the 60s and 70s. Cast against the wreckage wrought by the feudal system, his characters, albeit flawed, stand tall amidst the crumbling edifices of joint families and remnants of matriarchal lineage.
The inner struggles of his protagonists in early works like Naalukettu (1958), Kaalam (1969) and Asuravithu (1972) vouch for this. Perhaps Manj (1964) was the first exception, a lyrical work woven around a female protagonist, Vimala. It was as if MT had taken after Beckett in shaping Vimala who seems entrapped in an eternal wait, embodying all the longings of a lonely soul. In a way, Manj could well be termed as a work that depicted the beauty of waiting.
"The season is over...
No one came!...
He will come. Won't he, Memsaheb?"...
The boat continued to float on the water. She gazed at the long gliding trail along the face of the lake and murmured, Yes, he will come.
"Yes, he might.'
Perhaps there's no other romantic tale among MT's works that thus captures love and yearning in its true sense.
Not just in Manj, MT took the liberty of portraying his women characters in a mould that could easily have been influenced by none other than his own mother, a strong-willed woman whom he greatly admired. His women characters, be it in his novels or movies, whether Kuttyedathi or Vimala, stood out for their uniqueness.
His last short story Kazhcha could well be termed as one of the best Malayalam short stories rendered in feminist perspective. The story depicts a grandmother reiterating to a youngster, who's a bank official, that a woman does have the right to choose her husband.
When it comes to cinema - be it Aranyakam or Nakhashathangal or Ennu Swantham Janakikutty or Panchagni - MTvian women are a class apart.
As a filmmaker, MT chose to keep away from popular narratives. In his portrayals of Chanthu in Oru Vadakkan Veeragaatha, MT depicted folklore through an altogether differing perspective, defying populist overtures. Through an array of screenplays, MT has brought to life umpteen characters who embodied a cross-section of the society around him. Be it Perunthachan, Sbadayam, Sukrutham or Vaisali, his characters remained unadulterated compositions of human emotions and weaknesses. Amidst complex compositions on the silver screen, the simple yet elegant Oru Cheru Punchiri unfortunately failed to stand out.
How come a writer, who often indulged in expressing his own experiences, chose the medium of cinema? In many ways, MT could well be termed a pioneer in developing screenplay writing as a literary form in Malayalam. His characters remain etched in their individualities. His ability to form powerful imageries with words is evident throughout his works.
The sequence in Nalukettu depicting the protagonist throwing away broken pieces of bangles into the pond - after a secret encounter with a cousin, wherein the readers are unsure whether it's true or a dream - is portrayed with uncanny clarity of expression. Similarly the sequence involving Meenakshi and Sekharan Nair's son in Asuravithu is interspersed with the twilight to effectively convey its ambiguous tones. The story Karkkidakam moves one with its anguished portrayal of an impoverished kid witnessing his mother treating a guest, even as the family fights hunger pangs.
Undoubtedly, the passing away of MT has put an end to a colossal era in the history of Kerala. Even the timing of his bidding adieu seems a blistering coincidence. It has an eerie resemblance to his character Ravishanker of Sukrutham where an editor on the verge of death comes back to life - only to find his own obituary kept ready.
One of the 'tallest' editors Malayalam has ever seen, his passing away would easily pose the biggest challenge to the front-page of any newspaper. Yet MT ironically breathed his last on a day, the newspapers in the state had a closed holiday!
"In life, death is as significant an occasion as birth; It's a celebration," wrote MT in Swargam Thurakkunna Samayam. Perhaps the writer in him preferred to enact his own words in a prophetic manner.