The 13th book taken up for review by Tamizh Puthaka Nanbargal was ‘Korkai,’ by Joe D’Cruz, and the reviewer was marine engineer and author K.R.A. Narasaiah.
D’Cruz, who has 25 years of experience in the shipping industry, is from a fisherman’s family in Tuticorin. His novel ‘Azhi Soozh Ulagu’ won the Tamil Nadu State award, and ‘Korkai’ won a Sahitya Akademi award.
He has written many research articles about ships, ports and fishermen. Ravi Tamizhvanan in his introduction to the programme, observed that a seafarer reviewing a book about a community that depended on the sea for its livelihood, was most apt.
E.M. Forster spoke of a novel as having a pattern, plot and rhythm. Rhythm is “like a musical motif which reappears with slight variations and helps to unify the novel.” Quoting Forster, Narasaiah said that ‘Korkai’ conformed to Forster’s definition of a novel.
Narasaiah gave a brief history of the Paratava community, who traditionally dived for pearls and conches. The novel, ‘Korkai,’ examines the history of the community, beginning from the early years of the 20th century. It has 380 characters and chronicles the lives of 32 families. Although it has no protagonist, Philip Kalingarayan, who runs away from home and becomes a wealthy owner of boats, comes closest to being the hero of the story.
The book deals with lust and forbidden liaisons too, but does so without vulgarity. The book records the history of the period casually, through conversations, whether it is the caste equations in the Congress party, or the building of the Cochin Port by Bristow. Throughout the book, there is a fidelity to truth, which lends authenticity to the historical accounts.
That the Paratavas continue to refer to Hindu mythology in everyday conversation is seen when they chase a pig. “Do you think you are Vishnu?” they yell after it, the reference being to the Varaha avatara of Vishnu. When Andamani dies, he wants a twig from the Santana Mariamman temple to be laid in his grave. Philip’s wife, Salome, offers a silver kavacham to Mariamman, showing that the Christians never completely gave up their Hindu beliefs. The last chapter is reminiscent of Joyce’s Ulysses, where the spirit of the entire novel is captured in one chapter. The story ends on a philosophical note, concluded Narasaiah.
D’Cruz said that there were others too, who had written about the Paratavas. But there was a difference between saying, “The Paratavas were hurt,” and saying, “We were hurt.” And so a first person account like D’Cruz’s gained significance. To D’Cruz, capturing the lives of his people and their problems was an emotional journey.
He said that even today, the rope for hoisting the flag during the festival at the Kanyakumari Amman temple comes from a fisherman’s family. Once, there were objections to accepting the ceremonial rope from a Christian family. But when the flag was hoisted, the rope gave way seven times.
So finally, a rope from the fishermen community was used, and the flag stayed aloft. To D’Cruz, it seemed like divine endorsement of the offerings of the Catholic fishermen.
D’Cruz is an ardent devotee of Mariamman, and says proudly that he sports the traditional three horizontal lines of vibhuti on his forehead, when he visits the temple! The Paratavas see themselves as exiles from the North, who came to South India during the time of Dritarashtra! In fact, during their weddings, once the Church ceremony is over, they recite their hoary lineage.
D’Cruz said that when Katchatheevu was ceded, there was a clause for protection of hereditary rights of both Indian and Lankan fishermen.
But subsequently, officials ignored the mention of hereditary rights, and only concentrated on the need to keep out of each other’s territory. Businessmen, who were out to make money through the marine wealth of the region, but who had no deep rooted ties to the sea, were also spoilers. Trawling uses a technology that should be used only at a depth of 2000 metres, and is disastrous when used in our coastal areas, where the depth is only about 15 metres. D’Cruz was asked by External Affairs Minister Sushma Swaraj, to prepare a report on the problems of the fishermen, and how to tackle them. He has made all these points in his report.
He does not believe in churning out books, just to chalk up impressive statistics. Nor does he write with a view to winning awards. He sees himself as an activist writer.
Literary forum
Industrialist R. T. Chari, who took it up as a mission to spread awareness on South Indian heritage, turned his attention to Tamil literature, and thus was born Tamizh Puthaka Nanbargal, a forum for discussions on Tamil books.
R.V. Rajan, who retired from the advertising industry, Ravi Tamizhvanan of Manimekalai publishers, and journalist Charukesi are also members of the organising team. Every month a meeting is held, where a book by a living author is reviewed, followed by the author’s response.
Why do they take up books only by living authors? “Vaazhumpodhe vaazhthuvom –honour them while they are alive- that’s our motto,” observes Ravi.
With the author present, are negative observations by reviewers allowed? “Certainly,” says Rajan. “In fact, when Sivasankari’s book was criticised, she said that she was glad to hear criticism of her work after 30 years!”
What happens if a reviewer goes beyond the purview of the book, and makes irrelevant observations? “We interrupt, and tell them to stick to the subject,” clarifies Charukesi.
“So far only novels and collections of essays have been taken up for review. There are plans to take up short story collections later,” says Chari. The best reviewer is given an award of Rs 20, 000 by Ramu Endowments, a trust created by Chari in memory of his father Ramabhadran. The first to win the award was Bharatiputran.
