Two years ago, in Germany, I met a woman whose father had been tortured by the Nazis. He didn’t speak about those memories till the end of his life, she told me. Instead, he would simply sit for hours in front of a window staring into nothingness. Easterine Kire’s A Respectable Woman begins with a poignant line, which reminded me of the agony of that man. She writes: “It took my mother, Khonuo, exactly forty-five years before she could bring herself to talk about the war.”
Broken lives
This impactful sentence instantly provides the backdrop for Khonuo’s story from the age of 10 — when the Japanese invaded the lush hills of Nagaland — to the birth of her daughter, Kevinuo. Khonuo’s tale forms the first section of the book. Khonuo recalls her family history, and through that she paints a picture of post-war Kohima. Her stories, which are essentially fragmented memories, “are without a beginning, a middle, and an end”. Yet, they come together like tiny pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, much like the broken lives of the people themselves.
While listening to her mother, whom she calls Azuo, Kevinuo learns about love, loss and the unimaginable limits of human resilience. She discovers how war can surprise, test, destroy, and remake people. And she learns about how modernity and development trickled into her land — how education became a priority after the war, radio brought the world into people’s homes, and electricity changed the lives of a people living in darkness. Equally she discovers the story of Nagaland itself.
Kire writes about the relationship between the Nagas and the British: “Many of our people had not known any government other
than the British. So, when they left our hills, many people felt orphaned, including grown people.” About the Nagas and the Indian Union: “Even while the few educated Nagas felt that they had the right to fight for Naga sovereignty, the Indian government sent in armed police who began a reign of terror… We were no longer safe in our own homes.” And about the Nagas and modernity: “In those days, if you went to people’s houses in the evening after dinner, you would find the family sitting together, listening to the radio.” Using the oral tradition of storytelling, Kire merges history and memory to narrate a story of a family and equally of a land.
In the second section of the book, we move to Kevinuo’s story. She grows up in a Nagaland that is propelled by modernity. Yet, political turbulence continues, bringing with it new challenges for the government, such as alcoholism. While war and suffering provide the backdrop for Khonuo’s narration, Kevinuo’s story is anchored in friendship and love. She struggles to cope with her father’s premature death, which causes her mother to withdraw into a shell. But where her mother is absent, her friend Beinuo fills the void. However, this childhood friendship is tested when Beinuo makes a life-changing decision after school, one that is expected of Angami women.
On their own terms
In the third section we realise where the title comes from. This is the story of women who challenge traditional notions of what is considered respectable in Angami society and live life on their own terms. Khonuo, having been a bit of a rebel herself, allows her daughter to take a decision that the larger society would perhaps consider ludicrous and culturally inappropriate. But it is a decision that makes us smile, for it is a touching moment in the evolution of a childhood friendship.
Kire’s mastery lies in drawing her characters — they are relatable, human and complex. My heart went out to Atsa, Kevinuo’s grandmother, who is so devastated by the death of her two sons that she lives her life in the past, simply waiting for death. But Kire is equally skilful in mapping Kohima. She writes in the epilogue: “The present decade possibly offers the last opportunity to record the life of Kohima in the post-war years from its survivors’ memories. Recreating pre-war Kohima using their memories was a challenging task but it was not impossible.”
It is a task that she accomplishes beautifully, with research, detail and emotion, even if the writing is pedestrian at times. A Respectable Woman is not only worth a read for fiction lovers. It is equally a starting point for those who wish to understand the Nagaland of today.
radhika.s@thehindu.co.in
A Respectable Woman; Easterine Kire, Zubaan, ₹495
