Sredhanea Ramkrishnan, one of the first readers in a dialogue with the Author Jayanthi
Sankar Of Dangling Gandhi
July
2019 – via email
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Let’s begin with the title, what do you intend to send across to the
readers by this title?
Jayanthi Sankar: As
you have already read the book, you would
know that in the title story Dangling Gandhi is only a subtle metaphor.
Although my favourite story of the
collection is not this, I decided on the title
for the book as it suits all kinds of uncertainties and doubts of our times, the
world over, on Gandhism as well as the nonviolence
he upheld, becoming more and more debatable in this modern world. However, the
story hardly touches on these, interestingly.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: In that story, an older adult's love for his motherland is
brought in by a jubilant flashback. Isn't it strange how attached our human
minds are to our land and our past? And all that a soul needed before its
departure was a whiff of reminiscence!?
Jayanthi Sankar: The
story did just that – to capture the childhood memories of the departing soul
amidst the interestingly woven present life and the voices of the next two
generations. A gentle stroke of the zero brush of multicultural diversity helped
add value to this particular painting of words.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: We are all well aware
of the dreadful imperialism, but your stories paint a different shade of
post-colonialism that none of us even imagined, don't you think it might offend
or shock a patriotic mind?
Jayanthi Sankar:
However dreadful a period may be, it will certainly have other sides to it. There
is at least one angle other than what has always been projected to the future
generations. When you say ‘none of us even imagined’ shows how we are all
preconditioned to think hardly anything other than what has been prescribed to
us.
Haven’t we seen Schindler in
the famous movie? Are we going to argue that that character is going to offend
the Jews? Such a character or depiction creates debates, and that’s the sole
purpose.
In the same way, my stories
are not meant to offend anyone or deliberately crafted to paint a different
shade but only to raise questions and to provide ample space for debates. They
are, but many flashes and images of real-life gathered in my memory over
decades since my childhood, from what I heard from seniors in the family,
relatives, extended families, and friends. Readers are sure to feel my neutral
tone as they are not biased in any way.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: As we all are slowly
moving towards being global citizens, is patriotism even relevant anymore?
Jayanthi Sankar:
Yes, patriotism is slowly losing its meaning in the modern world but, knowing
the past and the period when patriotism in its truest sense existed and had its
relevance becomes important to confront our modern-day challenges. They may be
of border issues, immigration, and terrorism of any kind. Values and issues do
vary, but there is always a string of continuity.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: When we see the twelve short stories, the sequence seems to be
chronological, almost from the 1850s till
present date, but with a higher leaning towards the period of Independence of
India. Why does the part seem to interest
you the most?
Jayanthi
Sankar: Well, it’s interesting to note that you have
read them as one whole unit. I guess my interest in the Independence of India
could have arisen from the life experiences seniors shared along the journey of
my growing up years and the school days’ subject of Indian history. Nothing
more than any of us would normally know.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Tell us a bit about
your journey and evolution as an author and a human being.
Jayanthi
Sankar: Although I remember growing up as the eldest
of the four children in the family, turning a second mother to the youngest
when I was nine, a lot of internal debates and thought processes had happened
with less than optimum reading, I’d say. I used to be always quiet and
responding more in syllables than words, everything around me set me to think
though I never used to express.
Having grown up in different states in India,
naturally, I got exposed to different languages, people, and cultures. I never
knew back then that I would write one day.
Later, when I came to Singapore as a young
mother of my elder son, the libraries here fascinated me. My reading increased
unimaginably. I used to read in English and Tamil. I started writing fiction in
1995 in both the languages and eventually decided to focus on one language at a
time. And in the past 4 to 5 years, I’ve turned my focus to writing primarily
in English.
The voracious reading shaped the human being
that I am today with the writer being is only a byproduct. Reading continues to
catalyst the evolution of both in me, also resulting in spiritual progress.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: I would like to know how you came up with the
idea of making the floods the centric theme or the connecting factor between two
differently timed yet profound sorrows and what effect you expect on a reader
with a fleeting note about Winston Churchill in the story.
Jayanthi
Sankar: ‘Did Churchill know?’ was
written long before the recent devastating floods of Kerala. When I witnessed
the images of the floods, I was intrigued,
especially because I had lived through a
similar one in my fiction during its creation.
This story carries two tiny canvases of the older man and Jack with a very vast and broader
canvas of the tea estates that began during the colonial periods and how the
devastating floods destroyed the hilly region.
I’d been to Munnar a few years back for four days on holiday with friends. The hill
station with the surrounding ranges of hills captivated me just as the Winston
Churchill bridge/arch did. I felt the arch stood there heavily carrying the remnants of the
past. Ironically, Churchill detested India and Indians, and that makes us, the people of the later
generations raise several questions.
The story comes under parallel storytelling. It
wasn’t planned that way. I discovered
that the story fell into that category, only upon reflecting later on.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Physical disability
is often looked upon as a bane; for the
first time, your second story depicts a
hearing and speech impaired man as an asset rather than a liability. Did you
want to bring out this point in particular or was it just an unintentional
note?
Jayanthi
Sankar: It is more complex than that in the story ‘Punkah
Wallah.’ For Herman, Mani may be an asset. But when you read a little deeper,
you will also feel that an act that appears to help
many a time becomes the exploitation of the situation.
The protagonist of this short story represents
the community of fan men. Colonial English of not only the subcontinent of
India but also of Malaya used these men to do this job of fanning them. Those
were the days before Electricity came widely to the eastern part of the
world.
My dad used to have an elderly friend when I was
in my mid-teens while we were in Shillong. He was a Sardar who used to share things about his ancestors, childhood, and
partition. He said there were many of his relatives in the then British Indian
army and many worked as fan men and that one such lad was taken to far away Malaya. The memories of those
interactions surfaced in me to craft this short story, one of my
favorites.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Do you mean to say animal-loving
and animal eating/ killing pests and insects the complete contrasts and
exclusive of each other?
Jayanthi
Sankar: On the contrary, in ‘The peacock feather
fan’ I depicted the interdependency of not just animals, insects and pests but
also humans. There is an inevitable, invisible chain similar to the food chain also at workplace,
the institution of family and marriage, and everywhere. And this chain also has
prey that turns a predator or a predator turning to be a prey at some point of
time, and that’s what the story intends
to bring about.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Subtle yet profound
expression of the pain of betrayal of trust in ‘Mobile Dictionary’, which raises in the reader a question. Which
betrayal do you think would have been more hurtful by the family member or the
doted upon friend?
Jayanthi
Sankar: The betrayal by the friend or mentee of the
story in today’s world would not even be a betrayal at all. In those days,
especially in the community that the protagonist belonged to such a betrayal
meant heinous.
There are other nuances in the story like Ramasamy Iyer, who could
empathise the hunger of his beloved cow,
could not even digest what his 20 years old sister needed and was after.
This story is typically character-driven.
The protagonist is based on my paternal
grandfather, who founded during the
colonial period three primary and high schools in the Southernmost of the present state of Tamil Nadu. An erudite who
memorized the dictionary used to be revered by his English friends, I’ve been
told. I have never met him. He died when my dad was hardly five years old.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: In love, life, and separation, the significance of sacrifice
has been well talked about by all, but
timing? Isn't that the most crucial of it all?
Jayanthi
Sankar: We continue to learn in this school of life,
don’t we? The timely favourable happenings bring us happiness and joy and a stronger
belief in humanity, whereas untimely unfavourable incidents just the opposite.
Ironically, the whole unpredictability of life and the uncertainties make our
lives. Those who realize this and embrace the truth to live with the flow find
peace with life. In ‘The Pavilion’ the love and untimely separation in the past
bring into this world the protagonist.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: Poverty vs. luxury well explained by a bus ride, a
child's kindness and observance shine through, do
you think as we grow into adults, we lose sight of humanity, or are we too
selfish to observe the need of others?
Jayanthi Sankar:
It’s more to do with the conditioning of the mind rather than the adulthood by itself.
Those who grow into adulthood with some awareness that the conditioning is
almost inevitable, escape this to some extent. Even those who are already
adults and can unlearn are capable of shedding at least portions of the
conditionings. In these, I believe, lies the selflessness and humanity. Though ‘Beyond
Borders’ portrays a typical bus ride in Singapore, a simple story runs through
in which I guess the unconditioned mind of the child has naturally come out
well.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: Again, strength and
talent despite a physical disability.
What inspires you to highlight the good side of physical challenges?
Jayanthi Sankar: I
didn’t think of highlighting the good side of physical challenge. I created the
character Venu in ‘The Pavilion’ who lives his life normally like his peers despite
his condition. It’s neither to glorify
physical challenge nor to bring sympathy in the readers but to show perhaps his
inner strength, more through the feel the reader gets rather than through words.
And it used to be common those days to come across people affected by Polio.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: Allegory, the most
difficult form of literature, seems to be your forte. What made you prefer it over other styles like flash fiction or
vignette? Do you think the readers would be able to find the essence of the
story in the same thread as you wish them to?
Jayanthi Sankar:
Normally, I play with the theme and characters in my mind before I start crafting.
Therefore, I let the theme and content choose the form. That having said, I
love all other forms, and I hope to try my hand at them as well.
Different readers can read
these stories in different depths. Albeit the stories are in a simple language,
I won’t deny that they are layered and require some effort to understand well
enough. I’ve been blessed with a few first readers like you who read in some
places beyond my intent and also those who sought my guidance before reading
the second time. There were also a couple of readers who said they were unable
to go into them, and I could understand.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: Suffering is the one
left behind, not the dead. Aren't we all in a way facing the consequences of
our ancestor's actions? Good or bad?
Jayanthi Sankar: The
dead leave behind both good and bad residues for us to endure, I suppose, just
the way we will when we leave.
‘Mother’ talks about the
devastating fury of Earth turning upside down the lives of an entire lineage of
an English family settled in Shillong.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: One can write about
emotion in detail only if one had experienced it, loss by death or love, and
ways of overcoming the loss seem better depicted in your stories. Is there a
reason behind this?
Jayanthi Sankar:
This moment, when I read your question, I am thinking. And except my empathy, I
have no reason that I can think of because, fortunately, loss
by death or love and ways of overcoming the loss have not been my life. Those
effective depictions in my stories, for me, reflect my empathy. I tend to live
those lives while conceiving and crafting.
If a writer can write well about death only
after he experiences it, is it even possible for us readers to have texts
depicting death?
I believe empathy is capable of creating the
emotion in any writer even if she had not experienced that particular emotion.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: As
an author, how do you think writing this book helped you?
Jayanthi Sankar: Only ‘Read Singapore’ was written way back in 2011. Writing
the other 11 of the stories over the past four years has by far been the best creative
phase that I loved and enjoyed.
I am
writing a novel in English right now, and Dangling Gandhi has become the
creative personal record that I hope to break. And this generates in me so much
of motivation and drive, although I have to accept that there are times when
the other end is also felt. These swings by themselves are so interesting to
watch as I currently plan the novel chapters.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Who do you think are your target audience?
Jayanthi
Sankar: All readers who enjoy literary fiction,
Literary critics, Academics, and the serious readers of the western world who
are eager to know more about literature, culture, lands, and people of the
east. I am very sure the simple language will help the readers enjoy these
varied, layered, nonlinear narrations, and assimilate.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Is feminism just
supporting equal rights and liberating women, or
is it much deeper than that? Maybe not judging anyone for their actions and
respecting their journey?
Jayanthi Sankar: ‘My
mother is a feminist’ aims to say just that - that respecting
others’ journey is just the basic. It tells us that a man though a son would
still see his mother as a feminist if he were to search for reasons to justify the
action that left in him some mixed feelings about – after undergoing an
unexpected after-effect.
To me, feminism with all its
various shades is deeper. Constantly evolving as we humans evolve, feminism, too,
undergoes constant changes.
This story was included in
the Anthology, ‘the Other’.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: Are love and pain co-dependant? What's your take on unrequited
love? Do we hate the object of our love that left us or ourselves for having
fallen for the wrong person?
Jayanthi Sankar: I
think it’s both - the love turning into hatred for the one who left and also
upon self for having fallen for the wrong person. Natasha in ‘Am I a jar?’ is
hurt and confused for the same reasons. As far as my knowledge goes, Love
mostly comes along with heartaches, and naturally unrequited love would mean naturally
tremendous pain.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Life, love, loss,
you've covered them all, is satire too latent in your words?
Jayanthi
Sankar: I hope to search to discover this, which I’ve
already started.
Sredhanea Ramkrishnan: It's good
to know where we come from and respect our culture, but do you think we should
branch out and flourish or still be grounded and attached to our roots?
Jayanthi Sankar:
Knowing the roots can give the normal feeling of groundedness wherever you may
go. With the globe shrinking fast, it’s only natural that one branches out to
explore and flourish as he takes his roots within him. Some are unable to part
with their roots and land that they end up returning sooner. Momo in ‘The
peasant girl’ is one such girl.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Indian, Malay, and Chinese
cultures beautifully intersperse in your words. Being
an Indian descent settled in Singapore, tell
us what impact the history of Indian, Chinese and Malay, and mythology and
politics have on your writings.
Jayanthi
Sankar: Comprising not just the local ethnic groups
but also of the immigrants and the floating tourist population, Singapore is
almost as diverse as London. Two hundred years old modern Singapore is
comparatively younger, though. Due to her geographical location, one of the
earliest ports in the Asia Pacific, diversity has always been her specialty.
When one lives here for nearly three decades,
it’s very natural that she gets exposed to this diversity. It is not too unique
when she happens to evolve as a writer, and she depicts that.
In my formative years, I was fortunate to have
been exposed to a multicultural environment as my dad, a central government
engineer, used to be transferred all over the subcontinent. So I grew up in
many states. Shillong was one such beautifully diverse place.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: Having read about,
heard, and even being an immigrant, what do you think is the biggest shock an
immigrant faces? Cultural, social, economic, or educational?
Jayanthi
Sankar: I think it depends much on the immigrant’s
exposure, childhood, upbringing, and other backgrounds. For instance, 30 years
back, when I migrated to Singapore, because of my exposure I could see the city
as naturally diverse, whereas many ladies who came directly from their home
town could not take the culture shock. They had lived all their lives in their
village, or town, or city, or state.
Here, I am also reminded of a friend’s friend,
a guy from IIT Chennai, graduated, and had gone to the US. Decades back, not
exposed to other cultures when the Information technology was not as advanced
as it is now, he had a culture shock of seeing the cleavages of the American
women and returned within months to his native place.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: If you'd written these stories maybe a few
years ago, do you think they'd have shaped up the same way?
Jayanthi
Sankar: My creative journey started in my late
twenties, and so now, in my mid-fifties, my storytelling has evolved. I’m
better exposed and experienced in forms and techniques, and therefore, I think
these stories have come out at the right time for these themes that stayed in
me for decades would not have shaped any better, if years ago.
Sredhanea
Ramkrishnan: What recent/ past life
experience of yours readied you to pen down these stories?
Jayanthi
Sankar: Like I said earlier, my experience from
enriched explorations in both reading and writing has brought me to this phase,
and naturally. Most of these stories have always been churning all the time deep
in me, only waiting to be created, I suppose. When the stories surfaced I could
give them the needed shapes.
Title: Dangling Gandhi
Author: Jayanthi Sankar
Genre: (Literary) fiction/short stories
Published by: Zero Degree publishing
Year: 2019 / ISBN: 978-93-88860-03-12
Pages: 154
Price: Rs.220
republished/credit: Scarlet Leaf Review, Canada
