Lakshmi Kannan loves the genres of short story and poetry for their brevity. It adds to the intensity of a composition and is an excellent medium to accommodate a sudden experience of epiphany that comes upon the reader like the ahaa-moment or illumination. The compulsive, urbane and sensitive writer that she is, Lakshmi has written several novels besides short fiction and poems.
When writing in Tamil she uses the pseudonym Kaveri and her fiction has been extensively translated into English, Hindi, Marathi, French and German. A British Council visitor to the University of Cambridge, the present translation on hand was facilitated by the Sahitya Akademi which offered her a tenure as a Writer-in-Residence attached to the English department of Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, recently.
Major social evils that cry out loud to be addressed are taken up by Lakshmi — colour, gender discrimination, prejudice, girl child, neglect of aged parents and unconventional relationships — in
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In “Savvyasachi Square”, Vanaja and Arumugham treat the latter's old father Velayudam worse than a servant, grudging him the couple of pounds he spent taking the London tube to spend the day outdoors in St. James Park rather than being cooped up in the apartment all day alone. And the couple play the hypocrites when they brag to the Britons about the cultural values that ensures that Indians do not dump our aged in the OldAge homes. Velayudam's encounter with a busker, a musical wizard, reminds him of the archer Arjuna, the ambidextrous, in
The novella, “Another hour, another hue”, is one long stark and sad tale of male chauvinism and the cussedness of human nature depicting as it does the fury of the man (spurned) in higher echelons of academic world. There are several powerful messages the story sends out, notable being the undue weightage given to young blood in most organisations, including universities. The odds are stacked against all the three women professors in a mountainous heap, but they have the last laugh.
“Maria” was written more than two decades ago. The narrative leads you to the shocking revelation that the heroine Salina Maria, a Philippino writer, is a lesbian. Lakshmi the south Indian Brahmin is not condemning as she is of the eclectic set of authors who display dual standards — their revulsion toward lesbianism is not extended to gays. In “Because...” Lakshmi Kannan questions the stereotypical constructions of the dependent and helpless woman waiting for smart young princes for deliverance as in Rapunzel and The Snow White. Little Kamala does not spare even Lakshmana for his devotion to Rama and decision to leave Urmila behind gets the grey cells ticking.
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The nurse in “Please, dear God” seemed an expert in tucking the shroud around the bodies in the ICU. Ramachandran desperately hopes she does not have to do it to his wife Chandra who slipped into coma after a simple surgery for appendicitis. His deep anguish and poignant plea to God breathes life back into the limbs of Chandra.
The title story “Nandanvan” takes the fable route where the sparrows, cuckoos, crows and canaries observe and indict the greedy sons of Thatha, their friend and sustenance-provider. The garden and its blossoms jasmine, roses, lily, salvia and hibiscus join the chorus.
The birds teach a telling lesson by carting away the body of their benefactor even as the sons begin to squabble over property in unseemly haste.
Evocative prose
Powerful messages, descriptive and evocative prose, arresting dialogues and soliloquies, incredibly strong and never-say-die characters, a prime example being Muniyakka the servant who figures in more than one story, dot the Lakshmi landscape of the book.
The writer has translated her stories into excellent English from her Tamil original and has captured the idioms and finer nuances of the Tamil world with admirable precision.
If there's one thing that is negative it is the unrelieved gloom that permeates most of her stories.