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Meena Kandasamy: militant like a (Tamil) tiger

She is small and petite, but as militant as a (Tamil) tiger. Indian writer Meena Kandasamy (1984) prefers to break with all conventions, and the word is her weapon.

No Bollywood

Anyone who thinks from the cover and author name that The gypsy goddess is a sugary 'Bollywood novel' will be deceived. Meena Kandasamy's novel is about a true mass murder in Tamil Nadu, where a group of forty-four old men, women and children were burnt alive in the village of Kilvenmani on Christmas Day 1968. Drawing on facts, stories and police reports, Kandasamy reconstructs the events, but also puts the impossibility of writing a novel about such a gruesome, true tragedy at centre stage. She plays with form and metafiction. The result is a remarkable, tragic-playful novel, a whirlwind like the writer herself, who was a guest at the International Literature Festival Utrecht last weekend. Kandasamy speaks as if the devil is on her heels, so fast and fiery - the need is great and she does not seem to want to waste a minute. As a small child, she accompanied her father to political rallies, and has been an activist since she was 17. She writes essays and articles, poetry and novels, and regularly appears on television to express her outspoken views.

Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM
Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM

Her debut novel The gypsy goddess is a political book and contains critical notes on, among other things, the inequality within Indian society due to the caste system, which means that people born as a dime will never become a quarter.

'Our society is deeply divided. Women there are not respected, not treated as equals. I am not valued 100 per cent anywhere. I speak out against the caste system, talk about women's empowerment, sexuality. For Tamil men, I do not conform to the image of the beautiful, obedient Tamil woman, so they see me as a bad example. Feminists may appreciate me for my outspoken views on women's rights and male supremacy, but when I address them about their failure to distance themselves from the caste system - when that determines who they can marry, who they can love - they are again not happy about it. Because while they want to be equal to men, they do not want to give up the privileges that come with their high caste. In short, I cannot really do well for any group. That is why I feel best as a writer, because that is where I can do what I want. When writing essays and articles, I focus on fellow human beings and society. Writing fiction I do more for myself, though I write about what I feel needs to be told to the world.'

Women are supposed to write about love and their desires, relationships and family, says Kandasamy, but not hardcore politics. And so she wanted to write a political book, she laughs. 'The general approach to underclass people, poor or oppressed people, is that they suffer as a result of the system. This thought arouses compassion and that is nice. But literature needs to go a step further. Show that people also fight back and resist, and that therein lies great beauty. This not only makes you feel compassion for those people, but also changes your perspective and invites you to understand them more from the inside and participate in their struggle. Novels should not just be about the individual, I think. Therefore, my novel is mainly about a community, a village. For me, the village is the actual protagonist.'

Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM
Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM

A needle in the banana

Fiction can contribute to change, Kandasamy believes, however small it starts. 'Fiction puts a needle in the banana, as we would call it in India. Protest poetry is like a slap in your face; novels are more subtle. The story is your weapon: it entices you to look inside yourself and think about yourself. For example, my next novel is about domestic violence. Suppose a male reader thinks: well, women are always complaining about men, it might offer him insight into his prejudices.'

She takes a hasty sip of coffee before continuing. As a writer, she likes to play not only with prejudice and social criticism, she explains, but also with the form of literature itself. In India, the novel - a relatively new literary form - is still quite traditional; linear in structure, unambiguous in perspective and plot. Metafiction, the thematisation of literature or the literary form per se, is an unknown phenomenon. In The gypsy goddess Kandasamy sometimes emphatically takes a higher position, as the novelist.

'I want to experiment with the possibilities. As a poet, I don't write two poems in the same register either. Maybe that's my prejudice, but I think everything has been said before. You can only change how it is said. Usually men are the ones who experiment - like James Joyce used to do -, not women. I wanted to break that.'

Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM
Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM

Conventions in every field must be broken, she believes, because they quickly lead to norms or even dogmas: anything that deviates is not accepted. In her view, this is also the case within the book trade, because publishers mainly want books with a clear stamp, which can sell well. This leads to the publication of more of the same, and novels and writers with a different sound quickly fall by the wayside.

'Readers will never read this, they don't like experimental novels, they will say. Eimear McBride's book, A girl is only half done, did not want to have a big mainstream publisher, even though it is an important and innovative book. Only when the book won awards after being published by a small publisher was it looked at with different eyes. Why are such books not published by established publishers? They are never at the forefront because they think readers are backward. That is why it would be good if many more innovative novels were written, because one book does not change the capitalist book industry.'

Meena Kandasamy, The Gypsy Goddess, Atlas Contact.

Fragment uit <em>De zigeunergodin</em>

This may be a novel set in rural India, but don't expect a herd of water buffalo to stroll across every page for the authentic touch. The enthusiastic mothers who make circular gestures above your head with salt and dried red chillies in their hands and then ask you to spit into their hands three times to chase away the evil eye have also stayed home at my request, because I don't want to lose you to nostalgia or exotica. The ringing bells of the oxen could have added music to these lines, but I have silenced them so that you can follow the storyline in silence and peace.

Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM
Meena Kandasamy ©Marc Brester/AQM

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Wijbrand Schaap

Cultural journalist since 1996. Worked as theatre critic, columnist and reporter for Algemeen Dagblad, Utrechts Nieuwsblad, Rotterdams Dagblad, Parool and regional newspapers through Associated Press Services. Interviews for TheaterMaker, Theatererkrant Magazine, Ons Erfdeel, Boekman. Podcast maker, likes to experiment with new media. Culture Press is called the brainchild I gave birth to in 2009. Life partner of Suzanne Brink roommate of Edje, Fonzie and Rufus. Search and find me on Mastodon.View Author posts

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