For those new to the oeuvre of Chandrasekhar Kambar, Shivana Dangura ( Shiva’s Drum in English) would perhaps not be recommended reading as a point of entry. His richly-nuanced poetry or his plays which brought traditional folk narrative forms to modern Kannada stage would offer better introduction to the literary genius of the 80-year-old Jnanpith awardee writer, academic and film-maker.
That said, there is no doubt that Shiva’s Drums , in many ways, continues the motifs of Kambar’s earlier works. The locale of this novel is the familiar Shivapura, the imaginary village one encounters in many of Kambar’s works where myth and reality form a seamless whole. A world which is cohesive despite its internal conflicts, Shivapura grows increasingly fractured as the forces of neo-colonialism begin to eat into vitals.
With the greed and debauchery of the village Gowda (headman) as the ally, a chemical factory owner dumps dangerous wastes into the pristine village pond and poison — literally and metaphorically — begins to claim lives. A nexus of politics, bureaucracy and international business interests exploits the existing feudal hierarchies to the hilt for their gain.
The village is opening up slowly to winds of change — with Dalit politics forming an important part — but the new exploitative forces would rather harness the existing inequalities for their gain. There is murder, rape, police brutality, ruin of agricultural economy and ecological disaster as the new forces unleash their power.
In this village there is the strapping young man Chambasa, who bravely breaks social stigma and caste hierarchy to marry a devadasi and lead the fight of Dalit farmers. He is projected as representing the best in the tradition while embracing the best in the new, and not surprisingly, saves the day with his wife and a physically-challenged child by his side. These characters are at once real and symbolic of the rejuvenating powers of love.
As scholar-musician Pandit Rajeev Taranath (to whom the translation is dedicated) says in the introduction, the novel is characterised by a “mindboggling and constant switching between the modern and the mythical.” This switching gains a sense of immense urgency in third and final part of the novel, as the narrative hurtles towards a fairytale-like end.
The translation by Krishna Manavalli is competent and she manages to give a sense of cohesion to a novel that often pulls in multiple directions. This is no mean achievement with Shivana Dangura that has a lot on its plate and the threat of spill-over is constant.
