[Book review first published in YouthKiAwaaz]
“Madness is often an easy solution for writers to conclude a story, especially stories with a hero or heroine in the grip of an existential crisis. This in short is the world’s relationship with madness. In real life, though, madness is boring. No, actually real life is boring and madness might add a touch of interest to it.”
Thus muses Maria, the protagonist of Sandhya Mary’s “Maria, Just Maria”, a 30 something woman who is being treated in a psychiatric hospital. Most of the story is told from the perspective of Maria as a child- a perspective which is not every common, but which works every effectively in this story.
The book is full of an assortment of characters
Maria, the fourth and not wanted child of her parents, is left at Kottarathil Veedu, her mother’s ancestral home, to be brought up by an assortment of relatives. Her grandfather, Geevarghese, who is considered “mad” by the rest of his family is her best friend who “spends most of his time in toddy shops and gallivanting around the village taking his granddaughter along.”
But the ‘respectable’ members of the family are an equally quirky bunch- a great-grandfather over ninety years old and at death’s door, a great aunt who was in the grip of dementia, a grandmother with few feelings for her husband but who bore him 15 children of which a dozen survived, a great uncle who worshipped his sister in law, an unmarried aunt who was a Communist and in love with a much older man, an uncle who would treat all the villagers even when he was still studying to be a doctor. Each of these characters is sketched with warmth- you love their oddities, you empathise with their fears and feelings. You wonder what is normal and what is not.
To the mix, add Chandipaati the talking dog with an attitude who is more philosopher than mutt, and Ammini a parrot with an almost enviable vocabulary. The village statue of Geevarghese Sahada/ St. George who is bored stiff of sitting still on his horse and protecting chickens when called to do so decides to enliven his existence by entering the dreams of the villagers. Even Karthav Eesho Mishiha / Jesus Christ makes an appearance as a dark man with a darker beard with whom Maria plots a revolution which will give power back to the people.
As the story proceeds from one incident to the next in a non linear fashion, you start to question a world which tries to slot people into convenient moulds. What do you say about the spinster great aunt who knows how to pleasure herself, or the newly married aunt who accidentally locks her husband out of their bridal suite?
The book holds a mirror to society
The book holds up a mirror to society, and forces us to look beyond binaries. People contain multitudes and cannot be put into convenient slots. Life is rarely tragic or comic, it is just life- unexpected, yet deeply expected. The book also questions our political and religious systems. In a passage where Maria is talking to Karthav Eesho Mishiha, she asks-
“Tell me, do you gods really have the kind of power that humans believe you have?’
Maria genuinely hopes that gods exist, desires it with all her heart, except that they should be gods who know how to do their jobs properly. What is the point in having gods who can’t even stop humans killing each other.”
The book makes us question why we can’t be more empathetic, kind and inclusive. It asks why we should want everyone to conform and punish those who do not. It also questions the traditional expectations that society has from women-
“Besides, where is the fairness in what you say? If a man has a good job, he is considered accomplished, even if he doesn’t have any children. But for a woman to be considered accomplished, she just has to produce some children. She can go to Pluto and back, and still you won’t acknowledge her accomplishment unless she has popped out a few children. Truly, Ammachi, I don’t understand your world or its standards!”
“Maria, Just Maria” is set in Kerala- the characters, settings and situations would not work anywhere else, yet there are no sweeping descriptions of any of the elements that we have come to associate with the literary depiction of Kerala.
“Maria, Just Maria” is translated from the Malayalam by Jayasree Kalathil who in addition to being a writer and translator is also a mental hearth professional. Interestingly, the book, according to Sandhya Mary, did not set out to be a novel. It was a series of notes she wrote to herself, mostly in English.
It was only when she decided to make it a novel that the stories were rewritten in Malayalam- so the translation is almost a homecoming for the book. The translator quotes Edith Grossman who said “A translation can be faithful to tone and intention, to meaning. It can rarely be faithful to words or syntax, for these are peculiar to specific languages and are not transferable.” Jayasree Kalathil’s translation certainly feels seamless.
The book ends with the line “Poor Maria.” But who is really “poor”? Should a person be branded crazy because they live life differently from what is considered normal? If a person is happy, who are we to brand them as crazy? Why should success be unidimensional?
What if someone like Maria doesn’t have great ambitions; what if she is content being ‘verum Maria- just Maria’. Should she be judged for that? The book is a plea for a more inclusive world. And it is that plea that remains with us long after we finish the book and stop chuckling over the antics people get into.
The book is published by Harper Collins. I received a review copy. All views expressed in the review are my own.
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