The colossus from Kuttanad

My parents had never seen me so engrossed in studies'. That aroused their suspicion. The secret was out when late into the night, my fat...

My parents had never seen me so engrossed in studies8217;. That aroused their suspicion. The secret was out when late into the night, my father peeped at the title I was holding. 8220;Oh, you are reading Chemmeen,8221; he said, obviously delighted at catching me in the act. Even as he rebuked me for surreptitiously reading the novel at study time, little did he know how much Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai8217;s delightful novel had initiated me, a teenager, into the wondrous world of his writings.

Set on the shores of Trikkunnapuzha and its neighbourhoods, Chemmeen was the story of a Muslim trader, Pareekutty and a fisherwoman, Karuthamma, woven around the traditional belief that the safety of the man out at sea depended on the chastity of his woman at home. I was so captivated by the lyricism of the story that I read it several times. It was the beginning of an abiding relationship with Thakazhi, whose characters I could empathise with.

And it saw me devouring every novel and anthology of short stories hehad written until then. It was Thakazhi who opened my eyes to many aspects of Kerala life. His Thottiyude Makan Scavenger8217;s son left me nearly in tears when at one point the scavenger who had high hopes of his infant son found his whole world crumbling when he saw him playing 8212; unattended 8212; with his own excreta. In a moment of madness, he slapped the child only to rue it later.

His Randidangazhi Two measures provided a deep insight into the iniquitous social system that prevailed in the state when the low-caste Pulayas and Parayas were at the receiving end of the landed gentry. If his Enipadikal The rungs of ladder provided a close look at bureaucracy, his magnum opus Kayar Coir, modelled on the Russian classics, had layer after layer of stories. Few other writers have portrayed the complexities of life as Thakazhi had in a career spanning over half a century.

Even when he strode the literary scene like a colossus, he never let his earthiness and humility todisappear. It was this quality of the master storyteller that struck me when I met him for the first time nearly 25 years ago. He was addressing the Press in New Delhi after a visit to the erstwhile Soviet Union. He fielded all the questions with characteristic aplomb. It was apparent that his early days as a lawyer had stood him in good stead in wriggling out of difficult questions as on the relevance of dissent in the Communist country he visited.

After the meeting when I introduced myself as a Malayali, he took me aside and asked me whether his English was all right. He had no airs about him and he saw everything with the perspective of a farmer from flood-prone Kuttanand, the rice bowl of Kerala. Thakazhi had an uncanny ability to relate to people. Thus the last time he visited New Delhi about eight years ago, he was overjoyous to know that I was a friend of his nextdoor neighbour and ardent young fan Subhash. 8220;In that case, you should come to Kerala House in the evening so that we can talk indetail,8221; Thakazhi invited me. That evening he introduced me to his wife whom he endearingly called Kaatha8217; and, over rice gruel and pappad, he told me about the changes that have taken place in Thakazhi. 8220;Next time we should meet at Thakazhi when you come to visit Subhash8221;.

It was this ability to relate quickly to all who came across him, either in person or through his works, that has left countless readers sad at his passing away on Saturday.