Fiction of a new kind
K.N. Ganeshaiah interweaves many disciplines into his stories
Padmapani by K.N. Ganeshaiah, Ankita Pustaka, Rs. 120
Padmapani is a collection of eight extraordinarily brilliant stories. You read them and will sure be left with a good hangover; questions, alternate possibilities, twists and turns will haunt you in good measure. For, here is a book that recreates the genre of the thriller and is highly engrossing: what do ants swarming up in groups have to do with US planes flying across a small town in India? Why exactly do the paintings of Ajanta seem feminised? Has the curse on the Mysore Maharajahs been realised? What’s the mystery of the village Goddess and her miracles?
Facts and fiction are so woven into each other that readers will feel an irresistible urge to shoot an e-mail to the author and confirm: ‘This is fiction, right?’ As if to test us, Ganeshaiah faithfully reproduces photographs and other historical details his stories are set in. Combining the styles of travel-writing, history, mythology, historical thriller etc, he prods us to read and imagine differently. His simple spaced-out writing is a welcome-change from the dominant trend of unearthing the psychological drama of existence; something to which all literary value gets attached. Ganeshaiah reminds us that art could simply engage and entertain as well.
Ganeshaiah’s academic career in the natural sciences allows him to introduce to us an unusual set of topics. He, at times, slips into being informative and with such good presentation skills, that you will begin to revere simplicity anew. In “Padmapani”, “Kittura Niranjani” and other stories, women play a significant role and their anger and desire come to the fore — this of course, does not mean that you read them as feminist; the narrative is sufficiently layered for any quick labels.
Most stories, although do build up suspense superbly, the resolution comes very quickly and always through a formulaic, quick, convenient appearance of a chance-knower. Like the ajji in “Marala Teregalolage” who simply happens to know the correct sequence of events, or the sudden finding of a tape recorder or a Captain Gill. It is not that this discourages you from reading on, but can let you down a bit. Anticipating such a critique, Ganeshaiah says: “Capt Gill did exist, the tape was in fact given to me by a singer” causing in me the clichéd ‘chill in the spine’. He clarified: “I use these story-tellers because I need someone as a surrogate story-teller for me.”
I asked Ganeshaiah how he would defend himself if he was seen as distorting history. He simply said: “I feel that the history I construct (interpret) provides more facts and evidences than those available in the existing interpretations.” At times one wonders as to what drives Ganeshaiah’s intolerance towards myths; nothing that might have fascinated you once is left alone. Could it be western rationality bearing upon all things traditional, or, is what we see genuine creativity?
The thing is these questions don’t occur as you read the book; they all show up after you are done reading, which can only mean one thing: that this book is awesome.
SUSHUMNA KANNAN
Padmapani by K.N. Ganeshaiah, Ankita Pustaka, Rs. 120
Padmapani is a collection of eight extraordinarily brilliant stories. You read them and will sure be left with a good hangover; questions, alternate possibilities, twists and turns will haunt you in good measure. For, here is a book that recreates the genre of the thriller and is highly engrossing: what do ants swarming up in groups have to do with US planes flying across a small town in India? Why exactly do the paintings of Ajanta seem feminised? Has the curse on the Mysore Maharajahs been realised? What’s the mystery of the village Goddess and her miracles?
Facts and fiction are so woven into each other that readers will feel an irresistible urge to shoot an e-mail to the author and confirm: ‘This is fiction, right?’ As if to test us, Ganeshaiah faithfully reproduces photographs and other historical details his stories are set in. Combining the styles of travel-writing, history, mythology, historical thriller etc, he prods us to read and imagine differently. His simple spaced-out writing is a welcome-change from the dominant trend of unearthing the psychological drama of existence; something to which all literary value gets attached. Ganeshaiah reminds us that art could simply engage and entertain as well.
Ganeshaiah’s academic career in the natural sciences allows him to introduce to us an unusual set of topics. He, at times, slips into being informative and with such good presentation skills, that you will begin to revere simplicity anew. In “Padmapani”, “Kittura Niranjani” and other stories, women play a significant role and their anger and desire come to the fore — this of course, does not mean that you read them as feminist; the narrative is sufficiently layered for any quick labels.
Most stories, although do build up suspense superbly, the resolution comes very quickly and always through a formulaic, quick, convenient appearance of a chance-knower. Like the ajji in “Marala Teregalolage” who simply happens to know the correct sequence of events, or the sudden finding of a tape recorder or a Captain Gill. It is not that this discourages you from reading on, but can let you down a bit. Anticipating such a critique, Ganeshaiah says: “Capt Gill did exist, the tape was in fact given to me by a singer” causing in me the clichéd ‘chill in the spine’. He clarified: “I use these story-tellers because I need someone as a surrogate story-teller for me.”
I asked Ganeshaiah how he would defend himself if he was seen as distorting history. He simply said: “I feel that the history I construct (interpret) provides more facts and evidences than those available in the existing interpretations.” At times one wonders as to what drives Ganeshaiah’s intolerance towards myths; nothing that might have fascinated you once is left alone. Could it be western rationality bearing upon all things traditional, or, is what we see genuine creativity?
The thing is these questions don’t occur as you read the book; they all show up after you are done reading, which can only mean one thing: that this book is awesome.
SUSHUMNA KANNAN
Comments