I can recall quite vividly the first time I met Shakuntala. It was one of their unusual dinner parties where celebrities would rub shoulders with the “not so famous”. As a teenager I was in awe of this elitist couple — Balaraman with his acerbic sense of humour and Shakuntala, the gracious hostess, making sure that her guests stayed connected in her charming unselfconscious manner. Much later, Balaraman was heard to remark that the success of one’s social life rested on the personality of the hostess. This was only one aspect of Shakuntala who, to use a clichéd phrase, is a multifaceted personality. Apart from being the wife of a celebrity journalist, Shakuntala was an intellectual, dedicated to the pursuit of scientific knowledge and research. But her forte as she herself acknowledged, was social service, which absorbed her completely, a little later in her eventful life.
Precise and lucid, in Between two worlds , the author does not value abstract ideas over and above personal relationships. It indicates an intelligent mind and a highly disciplined approach to the art of writing memoirs. One may say with honesty that there is nothing in it which is not interesting, even for the desultory reader.
It is the lifestory of an extraordinary lady who was intelligent and warm-hearted, determined to reach academic heights. It was remarkable that she could be an ideal wife and mother as well as a distinguished scientist and finally a dedicated social activist. Having had the pleasure of Shakuntala’s friendship for the past 45 years I found her memoirs extremely readable. She has always been very discerning in her observations, without being judgmental, and that twinkle in her eyes belied her otherwise abrupt remarks. Subsequently I was to spend a lot of time with her when JACW (Joint Action Council for Women) was becoming a passion with her and we used to marvel at her commitment to the cause of women’s welfare even when her health began to fail.
The book records the memory of a lifetime with clarity. There is strange blend of objectivity and emotion devoid of maudlin sentiment After all, like the art of biography, memoir writing too relies on the judicious use of memory, imagination and language. The traditional purpose of memoirs is to restore meaning to the humdrum process of living and subsequently the weight of the narrative should rest on the constructive moments on which efficient lives rest. Shakuntala has made use of the fragile tools available-anecdotal detail, snippets of conversation recalled at random, some photographs, diaries and letters which were perhaps all the data she had, to write the story of her life and set it before the public as harmonious whole.
Shakuntala hailed from Palayamkottai, South India. Having lost her mother at the age of two she was very attached to her immediate family. After her early education in India she proceeded to the US for further studies. The book traces Shakuntala’s life from her childhood years to her sojourn in America where she studied in prestigious institutions like the university of Texas and Michigan. She obtained her PhD in psychology from Columbia university. She seems to have enjoyed her student years with girlish vigour and made friends, who have lasted a lifetime. Shortly before she finished her MA, she married K. Balaraman who was the North American correspondent of the Indian national newspaper, The Hindu . I think Shakuntala has exercised a little bit of restraint while describing the halcyon days soon after her wedding with Balaraman, the greatest and only love of her life. Her energetic description of the diplomatic parties and press celebrations provide the historic backdrop to the narrative. The encounters with Jawaharlal Nehru, Krishna Menon, Vijayalakshmi Pandit, J.J. Singh and other luminaries are recounted in a matter of fact manner without a hint of patronage.
When it came to her immediate family one can empathise with Shakuntala’s enjoyment, while recounting the early childhood and growing years of their only son. Like most Indian parents, Shakuntala and Balaraman decided to move back to India as they did not wish to expose their child to the dating and drug culture, which was prevalent in America. The culture of the affluent society may not have attracted the couple but did not provoke moral indignation either. In India, Shakuntala continued her behavioral research studies followed by several years as an assistant professor in the humanities dept of the Indian Institute of Technology. Despite her preoccupation with research which was encouraged by her husband (for those interested in the details of her research findings the appendices will provide the necessary information) she did not for a moment neglect her immediate or extended family in India.
Frequently, like any other writer of memoirs, she would have to contend with a surge of emotion occasionally, which may have been over powering. One can catch a glimpse of this as she talks of Balaraman’s last days when his disability became more pronounced. The urge to remember is apparent when describing her childhood and college years. I must say that chronological sequence of narrative events is more definite in the first half of the book. However, she has made good use of the need for balance while delineating the life between the two worlds.
In the preface Shakuntala says with candour that she is not an experienced fiction writer but that her style is easy to read. I’d like to quote Stendhal here: “Only a great mind dares to express itself simply”, even if Sakuntala being a modest person, may have something to say to this comparison.
