Religions are to a large extent the products of temporal forces, of geography, culture, politics and economics. This is the sense one derives after reading K.P. Ramanunni’s Daivathinte Pusthakam published by DC Books, though whether this was what the author set out to prove remains rather doubtful. As he tries to unleash an apocalyptic vision of doom and despair upon his readers, Ramanunni’s poetic prose predicts the arrival of the end of the world.
Combining science and religion, Ramanunni weaves a tale that plods on across light years and divine temporalities. It is Lord Krishna and Prophet Muhammed as time travellers who are able to bridge stellar spaces and cosmic eras, and therefore able to offer a panacea for the threat of a Black Hole annihilation. The idea of a divine tale unfolding within a scientific puzzle speaks volumes about the current propensity to offer simplistic solutions to complex socio-cultural and political issues. Along with Krishna and Muhammed Nabi there are eccentric NASA scientists, one Hindu and one Muslim each of technical geniuses from ISRO, and finally Karl Marx , Hitler, Gandhi, Nehru and Jinnah who seem plucked out from history for some kind of an overarching spiritual solution to the malady of India’s as well as the world’s fraught past and present.
Apparently the divine bond of Krishna and Nabi is predicated on the need to use their combined spiritual aura to cleanse not only our own turbulent times but to expunge from history all its mistakes that are prone to be repeated, first as tragedy, and then as farce.
While the plot of this work of fiction is rather muddled and rendered awkward by the far fetched imaginative forays of beatific gods into histories of political turmoil and strife, the book is interesting in its detailing of characters, especially that of the Prophet.
It is engrossing to note the manner in which the characters of both Krishna and Nabi expand as they relate to the ordinary mortals surrounding their incarnation. The cultural contextualisation of the Prophet’s life is especially revealing, as is also his spiritual dynamism, which keeps him deeply bonded to his people.
Ramanunni has, with calculated brush strokes of religious empathy, been able to portray the agony and the ecstasy that seem characteristic of prophets and seers destined to lead their people to ultimate spiritual goals and practicing credos.
What makes the book more interesting is its portrayal of both Nabi and Krishna as not only profoundly spiritual and steeped in the poetry of mysticism, but also as astute politicians and committed social reformers.
It is heartening to see a feminist Krishna and a Prophet who is all out for women empowerment. The section of ‘Nabibhagam’ which narrates the Prophet’s days in his mother’s womb where as foetus he understands his pregnant mother’s ailments and nurtures and cares for her by minimising the discomforts of her birth pangs, is especially poignant in its narration.
One is left wondering at the end of the book that if only the world could be saved of all its angst and anger by the puerile formulae that the author seeks to imagine in these pages, it would have been a happy ending to a science fiction fairy tale turned moral fable.
(A column on some of the best reads in Malayalam. The author is director, School of English and Foreign Languages, University of Kerala)
