The beauty of this novel lies in the dazzling manner in which it balances exile’s desire to forget that often makes it longer, with it finally finding redemption in remembering, writes GAUTAM CHINTAMANI
Drowning Fish
Author: Swati Chanda
Publisher: Hachette, Rs 399
life’s events have their own way of controlling us. Even after we come to terms with the past, it’s the memories that carry on wielding their clout over our actions. Through the lives of three women spread across three different generations, Swati Chanda’s debut novel Drowning Fish weaves a tender tale of what it means to be exiled not only in a physical sense but also metaphysically and in the bargain proffers a new interpretation of the diaspora theme in literature. Traversing between the early 1950s with Nayantara who escapes the atrocities in East Pakistan to start a new life in India, first in Agartala and later Calcutta*, and the journey of her granddaughter Neelanjana, who goes to the US to pursue higher studies and deciding to make it home, takes up a teaching job, Drowning Fish also explores the idea of identity and how it is often transformed by situations.
While exile forms the spine of Chanda’s book, its centre is defined by the manifestation of memories. Forced to leave Narayanbari in East Pakistan, the only home she knew, Nayantara’s life revolves around her exquisite furniture and each piece is akin to a part of her identity. Even while fleeing, Nayantara worries as much for her antiquated Victorian furniture – a writing desk, a spinet, armoire and such – as she worries about her daughters Suchitra and Niharika. She is obsessed with the furniture and makes sure that it reaches her once things calm down but it isn’t clear whether she believes that a part of her idyllic past would be recreated once the furniture reaches her in Calcutta or it would help her keep the memories of the past tangible. Neelanjana is never told about the past during her growing years but being surrounded by the Narayanbari furniture, which is to be hers, she can’t escape it as well. Juxtaposed in between is Suchitra, Neelanjana’s aunt, who unlike her mother or niece embraces life as a series of decisions taken for her by others. When Neelanjana leaves for the US, her grandmother makes Suchitra the temporary custodian of the heirloom and for some strange reason the aunt protects it as if it were a matter of life and death.
Once in the US, Neelanjana frees herself of the past by embracing everything that the home of the free has to offer. Jumping from one casual relationship to another, Neel couldn’t care less about the past or the burden of her dida’s furniture. She finds herself at home in the new world and in spite of being pally with two Indian students, Kedar and Ratnam, or being in touch with her parents back home, she mentally distances herself to such an extent that she feels alive only around foreigners. Just as she believed distancing from her past was an acceptance of sorts into a new future, Neelanjana mistakes familiarity with one of her students to be love and her world crashes. At the same time a part of the past that Niharika never knew about, Suchitra painstakingly overlooked and Neelanjana probably believed to be lesser than what had happened, catches up and changes lives forever. Neelanjana finally understands why her aunt was almost militant when it came to protecting Nayantara’s furniture for her but by the time she realises it’s too late.
like a fish, which drowns if the oxygen level of the water depletes, life brings Swati Chanda’s characters to a point where their own environment becomes too poisonous for them. Mirroring her grandmother Neelanjana, too, leaves Calcutta and all the memories collective or otherwise behind never to look back. But her new home isn’t ready for her and will test her. Circumstances bring Ratnam back in her life and the same circumstances compel Neelanjana to change the course of her life. Remembering her grandmother’s advice she decides to move on but the betrayal she feels at the hands of nostalgia rarely leaves her.
The manner in which Chanda’s textured prose brings these three people to life is what makes Drowning Fish a tale worth living. The silent way that Neelanjana’s life starts to unwillingly resemble her grandmother’s brings to mind the trials associated with exile and displacement. In her exile, Neelanjana sometimes feeds on dreams of her grandmother’s struggles and perhaps somewhere feels that she ought to pay a similar price lest her exile not be worthwhile. Hearing the tales of horror and violence of the past and the pain of being let down by those thought to be close, as well as the burden of maybe one day inheriting its physical remnants, too, coerce Neelanjana to become someone else. Chanda’s characters might appear typical, but her descriptiveness isn’t, especially when it comes to Neelanjana, who could have been easily shackled by conformity. The contrast that Neelanjana’s chasing-her-dreams-no-matter-what strikes with the classic unending immigrant redressal to hold on to the past displayed by those around her is one of the highlights of the final parts of the book.
In an interview, Swati Chanda mentioned that she didn’t begin with a particular narrative in mind. In fact, it was a standalone piece about antique furniture triggered by the question — who gets someone’s furniture when they are dying – that led to the novel. With numerous historical references and extreme detailing, Drowning Fish seems a tad laborious at places and even repetitive but for this reviewer it was quoting F Scott Fitzgerald, WB Yeats, John Keats, Erica Jong and Walt Whitman amongst a few more that seemed like a dampener. While they perfectly described particular emotions that her characters were undergoing, the mentions took away from Chanda’s own prose that made them real. Nonetheless, the beauty of Drowning Fish lies elsewhere. It’s in the dazzling manner in which it balances exile’s desire to forget that often makes it longer, with it finally finding redemption in remembering.
*Kolkata is mentioned as Calcutta in the book till the narrative doesn’t reach the year 2001.
The reviewer is the author of the best-selling
Dark Star: The loneliness of Being Rajesh Khanna (HarperCollins, 2014) | Tweet Gautam — @gchintamani