Reminiscing the past, does not always make us feel at ease, particularly, if our memories aren't associated with a ‘glorious past’. A learned skill humans commonly use, call it an ‘adaptive mechanism’, in dealing with the not-so-glorious memories of the past, is to repress them at the oblivious shores of the unconscious. If this does not work, conveniently resort to a forced state of amnesia. If ever a conversation is initiated around it, we tactfully deflect, “I don't remember the past, and even if I do, I don't wish to resuscitate those ghosts. They are of the past and I leave them there.”
‘The Covenant of Water’, an intensely moving fiction by the New York Times best-selling author Abraham Varghese, is all about the past, combined with glorious and the not so-glorious stories of the imaginary “ Parambil” family of Travancore, Kerala, ‘the southern tip of India sandwiched between the Western Ghats and the Arabian Sea, a land that was shaped by water, and it's people united by a common language: Malayalam.”
Varghese masterfully ushers readers to the green canopied Parambil world, with the wedding of a 12-year old girl to a man, 30-years older to her. Her seventy years of life that transformed her from a naive little girl to a conscientious, kind, wise and unflappable matriarch, the ‘big ammachi’ highlights the focal point of the story. Traversing with the big ammachi', her husband - the thamb’ran, daughter Baby Mol, son Philipose, daughter-in- law Elsie, and the granddaughter Mariamma, and the folks like Shamuel pulayan, his son Joppan, Odat kunjamma and Anna chedethy, the readers get glued to them as an ‘insider’, sharing the intricacies of their everyday life in all their depth dimensions.
Amid the unconscious rhythm of the vises and the virtues, inherent to rustic life of the 20th century, this 715-page book proffers to readers a certain sense of serenity and a deepening of hope for holding on to life, however bleak it could be. And for those who trust in God, a greater satisfaction for having known the faith journeys of several ordinary humans who showcase the extraordinary strength of character. Like any family, Parambil too is wrecked with intermittent blows of illness, death and dying which only make it difficult for the readers to take the story for granted. In all three generations of the Parambil, spanning from1903 to 1977, individuals carry a ‘condition’ that leads them to die of drowning. This mystery, however, doesn't get diagnosed, as it consistently follows the family like an unconquerable beast or a poltergeist, until the death of the big ammachi - until her granddaughter Mariamma becomes a physician.
Parallel to the indomitable Parambil story, there are also the stories of Dr. Rune and Dr. Kilgore, and a bevy of inmates from St. Bridget’s leprosarium, that dovetail human suffering and vulnerability with the waves of genuine compassion and acceptance. It is also the story of a renowned physician in high demand professionally, and selfishly sought after by the affluent society for their well-being and cure, retreating to the margins at the stroke of a divine call to serve, repair and reclaim the thrown away and forcefully ostracized lives of lepers.
Being a physician himself, the author could not help but bring in a number of doctors to the Parambil plot - from Glasgow - Scotland, to Madras, to Kochin, to the newly built hospital in Parambil estate, as he enthusiastically documents the 20th century medical advancement.
The story evidently has many feel-good components to classify it under the genre of the family drama. Nonetheless, we cannot overlook the shades of light it casts on the striking trails of issues that wrecked the social, cultural and the political fabric of the colonial and the post-colonial India. The little bride who matured into becoming the big ammachi whose name is not known until the time her granddaughter is named after her, raises the question about the role of women in the society. The well-articulated response of Joppan who refuses to tread the path of his father, Shamuel pulayan, underlines the tension around the evils of caste system, and the unquestioned exploitation of the lower caste. The pulayi woman who feeds the orphaned little boy Lenin Evermore whose parents die of small pox, brings into this boiling cauldron of social injustices another relevant question of inherent hypocrisy of the so-called religious folks and the gap between their teaching and practice of faith. Her stoic description on the conversation of her grandfather to Christianity evinces the age-old paradox: “No one told him (grandfather) that the pulayar Jesus died on a different cross. It was the short, dark cross behind the kitchen.”
Interwoven with a barrage of moving themes of human struggle, aspirations, vulnerability, hopes, failures, forgiveness, faith, romance and humor, the author succeeds in transporting the readers to love the characters of this epic tale of historical fiction. And in all its probability, by the end of the reading, the readers will have little discomfort in reminiscing the past of the Parambil, as if it were to be one of their own proud family narratives. So it feels to this reader.
Little wonder it is, that the Time Magazine includes this book on its list of the 100 must-read books of 2023!
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