Author Bulbul Sharma is no stranger to readers, her exquisite illustrations, mountain stories and kiddie fiction having enthralled many an avid reader in the past. In Eating Women Telling Tales, she shifts focus to the business of eating and preparing traditional food while simultaneously spinning enchanting yarns around the cooking fires. Death and food entwine constantly in this collection of nine stories which range from the macabre to the hilarious, with many a poignant pause in between. Unabashedly women-centric in her stance, Sharma's women are lean, mean, lusty, busty, pure, evil, feisty and fun. The men, in contrast, are weak, senile, impotent, chauvinistic and dim-witted (save a few) and the author is sure to win brownie points with ardent feminists all over the world.
A group of women sit down companionably to cook a funeral feast and an Arabian nights-like tableau is set for the stories to unfurl. As each women narrates an incident from her personal reservoir of experiences, we learn about the rickshaw ride across grassy meadows (to meet a god-man) that ends in disaster for the mother-in-law daughter-in-law duo, about the goat that got away and the promiscuous frustrated wife who thinks nothing of leaping over the terrace wall to spend the night with a virile neighbour. Afterlife looms large in these stories and the author creates a place of mists, ether and eternal twilight where the dead, though insubstantial, have their egos and tempers intact and are not above a spot of petty celestial squabbling with fellow spirits (as in the case of the dead wives Choti and Munni).
Lovable
The women here are far from perfect but the reader's sympathies remain unwavering, so much so that when the timid Nanni reaches the threshold of tolerance and decides to kill her husband with food, food and more food, one can only cheer her on. The quietest and the most touching story in this collection is the one in which the elderly judge, Banurai Jog, takes a walk in his garden. Among the flowers and herbs growing in the wooded silence and from the words of the malihe conjures up the personality of his neglected shadowy (and now dead) wife.
The funniest story is undoubtedly the one in which relatives from all over the globe gather for the shraadh ceremony of their mother. The family lunch, with a long line of curries varying in colour and potency (to suit the digestive requirements of the NRI guests), leads to hidden grievances simmering over with some hilarious consequences.
A recurring thread in this tapestry of tales is the loneliness of parents left back home and their desperate attempts to connect with a generation settled abroad. Jamini's attempts to woo her U.S.-returned, calorie-and-hygiene conscious son with choice foods are heart-breaking. The delicately described yearly visits by the diaspora when they look at childhood homes with different eyes — noticing dust, grime and naked bulbs — ring disturbingly true. Sharma weaves a bleak picture of an ever-widening rift (physical and emotional) between the two generations which, irrevocably, is doomed to reach a point of no-return.
Subtle commentary
Though the writing is simple, direct and devoid of complicated techniques, there is a subtle social commentary running all through. Deftly, without appearing to do so, Sharma sketches the social hierarchy existing in village life and unveils the fact that though rustic life may appear male-dominated and chauvinistic, from under the surface it is women who call the shots. The author is unafraid to explore the deepest cracks and crevices of human relationships (specially women-to-women ones) and does so with the tenacity and the determination of a white ant. Her innate love of nature bursts through in places as she describes gardens, meadows, orchards and seasons with vivid imagery.
Food, tackled in various (and unexpected) ways, runs like the common ingredient salt through every story. Each chapter begins with a charming line-and-dot illustration which we presume have been rendered by the author, who is known to be a talented artist. This slim collection of stories is quite like a methodical cook's masala tray, each ingredient and spice in its proper slot. The book is best devoured in bite-sized pieces, to catch and savour the finer flavours. Each story retains its unique flavour while contributing to the main dish and the main dish, need we say, is a veritable feast for the senses?
Eating Women Telling Tales,Bulbul Sharma, Penguin/Zubaan, Rs. 295.
