It has been a long journey for C.V. Balakrishnan’s Malayalam novel Ayussinte Pusthakam (The Book of Life). Serialised in Mathrubhumi weekly in 1983 and published in book form the next year, it became an instant hit, especially among the younger generations. It is still widely read and admired, as is evident from the fact that it has had 26 editions so far. And now, it is evocatively translated into English by T.M. Yesudasan.
This is a coming-of-age story of Yohannan, an adolescent boy from a Christian community in a remote Kerala village. What envelops him is a world inundated with carnal desire, not just of humans, but of everything in there — the elements of nature, man-made structures, flowers, insects and trees — which come alive through the ebb and flow of the characters’ longings.
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The novel begins with Rahel, an adolescent girl, running away weeping from the prying hands of Paolo, an aged, grandfatherly neighbour. The novel ends with yet another act of violence — Paolo’s son and Yohannan’s father Thoma strangling to death Sara, the young widow Yohannan loves. Framed between these two crimes of desire is a story of yearnings of different kinds — carnal and spiritual, violent and tragic, lyrical and melancholic. Love and lust seep into everything — nature, people, objects, thoughts, feelings, dreams and actions. Though obsessively fantasised, love is rarely consummated in rapturous union like that between Yohannan and Sara; more often it is denied. Yakob dies yearning for Sara, the only love of his life; Annie and Mathew pay a heavy price for choosing love over family. But still love haunts everyone, asking them to transgress.
All sinners
Different shades of sexual desire defying religious canons, conventions of age and social dictums form the warp and woof of this novel. At the centre of the village is the church and its saintly vicar, who tries to dissuade his flock from the path of sin. But the force of life gushes forth, heeding no bars. As Paolo ruminates after his shameful act, “Is there anyone who is not a sinner? We all are sinners. Sometimes, it may be a sinful act that makes life meaningful.”
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Translating the novel must have been a challenge because of the “invented character” of the language in the original, which is “region-blind, highly allusive and fascinating with constant allusions to characters, events and passages in the Bible” (Translator’s Note). Yesudasan says, “[It] bears no resemblance either to the language the migrants left behind or to the language of north Malabar where they had settled down. The harmonious blend of language and theme, feeling and thought, adds to the magic of the text.” Only a scholar of literature and of the history of Christianity in Kerala like Yesudasan could have captured the the reverie-like tempo and tone of the narrative without losing the intense sensual feel that suffuses it.
The Book of Passing Shadows; C.V. Balakrishnan, trs T.M. Yesudasan, Thornbird, ₹350
The Kerala-based reviewer is an award-winning critic, curator, director and translator.