Perumal Murugan

While watching a sunset, an Old Man of Tamil Nadu in South India is approached by a giant of a man who says he is wandering from village to village trying to sell a day-old black baby female goat. It is the runt of a litter of 7, with the potential of breeding a litter of 7, a very high number. But he wants the goat to be raised with care. He ends up giving the goat to the Old Man and walking away. The Old Man and his wife go to a lot of effort, straining their food supply and time to raise the goat. The story is also told from the viewpoint of the goat. There is definitely political satire, magical or mythical interpretations of events, and the supposition of human emotions to the animals. An enjoyable look at another culture.… (more)

Reread: July 2022.

“Once, in a village, there was a goat. No one knew where she was born. The birth of an ordinary life never leaves a trace, does it?”

This beginning hints at what you will get from this book. It is the story of an ordinary goat, or is it?

Poonachi is a little black goat who lands up at the house of a poor old couple. Her life isn’t a cakewalk, but Poonachi seems to win against the struggles that routinely come her way. Can life ever be straightforward though? With a hegemonic government, poor rains, and lack of resources, life begins revealing its darker shades. Only time will tell if Poonachi will thrive or wither with the change of circumstances.

Murugan shows us that great storytelling doesn’t need to be jazzy storytelling. The language in the book is simple and straightforward, yet used to great effect. There is a subtle hint of magical realism, but most of the content is socio-cultural fiction. The book is short and quick-paced, so you can complete it within 2-3 hours.

The content isn’t as direct as the language. Allegorical in its essence, the book is a medley of political satire and social commentary, while being a reflection on how simple minds also have corrupted thinking. It is somewhat reminiscent of ‘Animal Farm’, though, in this case, it is the humans who are “beings more equal than others.”

The book also spotlights how humans treat animals utterly selfishly. As one line in the book goes,
“No matter how much you give to this heart, it will never be enough.”
We grab and we grab and we grab, until there’s nothing left for anyone, including ourselves. Some of these scenes hit hard and make for very uncomfortable reading; go into the book with a strong heart and stomach.

I liked the first half more that the second half, possibly because it appealed more to my personal taste and my current mood, with Poonachi’s innocence and resilience shining through. The second half is more despondent and depressing, and doesn’t stop the sense of impending doom right till the end, which is exactly as you would assume but not what you would want.

The book was originally written in Tamil. The English translation by N. Kalyan Raman seems to capture the spirit of the book well. It doesn’t make the writing flowery, nor does it wash out the essence of the original language, with a few Tamil colloquialisms retained even in the translation.

Poonachi’s story is a metaphorical ode to greed and this is something common to most people and all governments. Thus it ought to work well with anyone looking for a quirky tale with unusual characters but facing realistic problems. Let me quote a line from the translator’s note:
“Through a feat of storytelling that is both masterly and nuanced, Murugan makes us reflect on our own responses to hegemony and enslavement, selflessness and appetite, resistance and resignation, living and dying.”

Recommended for sure, though it is not for everyone. Given a choice between reading the likes of Alka Joshi/Thrity Umrigar and Perumal Murugan, I would go for the latter without even blinking my eyes.

3.75 stars. (Same feelings as earlier, but was distracted easily this time. Plus, I am a stingy rater nowadays.)


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1st read: July 2020.
Rating: 4.25 stars.


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Where the River Meets the Sea

Translated by Nandini Krishnan
Read by: Suki
Length: 7 hrs and 55 mins

‘Kumarasurar is a government servant who upholds a higher moral standard possibly because he was “assigned to a department with no scope for bribery.” He belongs to a generation of men derisively called Boomer uncles for their resistance to change. He believes in making safe, standard choices because “the last person to finish a task never got into trouble.” This made him a tech Luddite.’ - Saudamini Jain, Hindustan Times.

Estuary is about the life crisis of a middle-aged middle-class bureaucrat. Unlike Murugan‘s other books Estuary has an urban setting. It takes place in mythical Asurapur, a place not much different than now. The people and the institutions are exaggerated versions of our own. But rarely does the book feel dystopian. It’s a hair’s breadth of being believable.

An example: colleges have cut-off points for entry. They start with a cut-off score of whatever is the highest score. So that if the first batch of entrants produces highest scores of 99%, then 99% becomes the cut-off. And so on, with the cut-off gradually lowering till the quota is filled and the college administrators boast their cut-off of whatever.

Kumarasurar works for the government Department of Statistics. He has nothing to do and when a computer arrives he puts it in a closet and forgets about it.

His wife Mangasuri is a traditionalist, wanting only for the success of their only child, a son Meghas.

Kumarasurar‘s life crisis is brought about by his son asking for an expensive smartphone. Kumarasurar cannot understand why such a thing is necessary, but with Meghas now claiming to need it for success at college, and with Mangasuri always siding with his son, Kumarasurar, a born worrier finds his inner-life thrown into turmoil.

Kumarasurar is no dullard. His sarcasm is as smart as it comes. And although his premises are off, his logic is impeccable. He’s unintentionally witty and no one in his sphere understands his humor. By the end of the novel I loved the man.

There are some endearing scenes - scenes which we can see coming. Such as when Meghas who has left for college dressed traditionally, arrives home in Western teenage-type clothes, his hair cropped. Kumarasurar can only stare in horror.

I can’t do justice to this novel, so I’ll stop now. All I can say is “read it!”… (more)