This is a collection of stories that forms a complex tale premised upon the interaction of the tranquil home with the frenzied world and the repercussions of such a juxtaposition, writes MEHA PANDE

If I were to describe this collection of novellas and short-stories in a single sentence from one of its tales, it would be — ‘Who could tell from this peaceful scene that there was a fire of conflict burning all aroundIJ’ Written in Tears, despite being composed of several stories, is a single, complex tale premised upon the interaction of the tranquil home with the frenzied world and the repercussions of this interaction. It compels its readers to examine the strength of one’s home and its limited capacity to protect the people who inhabit it. Is the shelter of our home resilient enough to withstand a strong political mayhem outside it; if not, then where must one go to find complete shelterIJ The questions linger on the mind even after the stories end.

All eight stories invoke the disturbing condition of Assam in the wake of insurgency, a condition which all of Kalita’s works are grounded upon. They convey how violence is meted out to people in various ways; not always materialised through bloodshed or physical abuse but most often through the violation of liberty — the fear of being watched, the fear of being unsafe in one’s own house, the fear of voicing opinions, fearing to say ‘No’. Arunima’s Motherland showcases the ‘secret killing’ of a family when the elder son joins an insurgent group. In Ayengla of Blue Hills, Ayengla is brutalised by men from the Army leaving her nothing except grief and insanity; Kunnu’s mother, in the story of the same title, is victimised on account of one of the insurgents vehemently demanding her daughter Kunnu for marriage; Mainao in The Girl with long Hair is punished for attending the boycotted Durga pujo and forced to marry the man who penalises her by chopping off her hair and Surabhi Baruah, a young lecturer, is forced to vacate her town for stating opinions which differed from the ideology of the insurgents.

Kalita brings to her readers both the nature and culture of the northeast in its entirety. She puts forth a strikingly beautiful topography of the region with its flora and fauna. The obliteration of life is realised by contrasting the regenerative capacity of nature with man’s ability to destroy. Blooming flowers, fields, livestock, leaves, rainbow, honeycombs, pregnant women, paddy fields either burn to ashes or freeze to lifelessness in these stories. The transition of life to debris emerges in all its completeness when a burnt bus moving through the city destroys everything it touches in The Half burnt Bus at Midnight. The tales establish the cultural richness of Assam through innumerable folk-songs, myths and stories like those of Asagi-Baisagi and Chandrabano and clothes like the mekhela chador and dokhana. Cumulatively, the stories reminded me of Umuofia in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Mainao’s certainty in the fear of thekhetra (evil spirit), Ayengla’s reminiscing about the story behind her name and Mainao’s marriage to her offender to evade the sin of Asagi-Baisagi evoke the kola nut and the betel leaf, the fear of wrath of spirits and the gods, the legends, myths and rituals of the Ibo clan kept intact for generations through its oral culture.

The domestic space in each of the stories is well-organised refuting the chaos outside it. Most of the characters insist on maintaining the habits and routines of the household till the end almost as if to counter the disharmony outside with the organised space of the house. They mostly fail at it, with disorder ultimately engulfing their homes. The seeping in of the political turmoil to the household happens slowly and almost irrevocably. Each of these stories presents a household replete with flowers, food and livestock but also the lingering possibility of violence. The constant tension at the backdrop resembles a ticking volcano whose presence and power can only be speculated but the magnitude of damage caused by it only unfolds with its eruption. ‘...these meetings, processions, people piling into buses and trucks to hold public demonstrations, or shutting down road and train lines, have been happening since long — what’s the big dealIJ...For these mundane things, why should she stop going to the bazaar...IJ’, claims the little girl Mainao at one instant unaware of what could be in jeopardy.

Most of Kalita’s primary characters are strong-willed and resolute women. The political condition of Assam due to the conflict between the UlFA and SUlFA (the surrendered UlFA members) reduced the inhabitants to a helpless state susceptible to extortion, bandhs and agitations at all times. Women faced a greater threat on account of their vulnerability to sexual violence and crime. In Written in Tears, most women fend for the house in physically challenging conditions, supporting their husbands and sometimes unborn children while others irrespective of the cost they pay assertively defy power as they encounter it. Of the women in her texts, Kalita in an interview with Aruni Kashyap claims how women are ‘thrown away like garbage, oppressed, marginalised, rejected, but in this state also, vibrantly asserting life. And I glorify their existence.’ The plots of all stories are unravelled as the experience of their women characters. Pain, grief fear, threat, defiance, resistance and compliance are all actualised through Surabhi Baruah, Anuradha Kunu’s mother, Ayengla and Mainao.

The text relies significantly on minute sensory details like aromas and the image of landscapes which often seep into the subliminal world of dreams for its characters. Just like in Things Fall Apart, the narrative also builds a beautiful world — a world which is alive and blooming — only to render it lifeless towards the end. There are various intertextual references to written and oral literature with Morrison, Shelley, Shakespeare and several folk tales infused smoothly into the stories. Kalita’s work, even in translation, is an absolute delight to read in so far as the nitty-gritties of the world it depicts are concerned. The work is remarkable for its addressal of the socio-political scenario of Assam and its ramifications on individual and family lives. The beauty of this collection of stories however lies in how it brings forth the value of life and survival enunciating that to be able to feel safe in one’s city, within the confines of one’s home, is a blessing not everyone has.

The reviewer is a lecturer of English in Delhi University and a PhD research scholar in JNU