Madhuri Vijay (2019),
The Far Field, Fourth Estate, New Delhi, pp. 432
Madhuri Vijay is a debutante with a compelling story.
Her novel ‘The Far Field’ won the JCB prize for literature in 2019. I got hold
of the book with the beautiful cover art and wonderful story telling about identity
and memory in contemporary India. This story of the mother-daughter developed first
as short fiction in 2010 and was subsequently developed as a novel. Vijay’s
voice is tender and distinct, and is an asset throughout the narrative.
‘The Far Field’ is the story of a young woman in India
who drifts away in life until a powerful memory from childhood triggered by her
mother’s death, leads her on a mission to understand her past. Her journey
takes her to militant Kashmir in search of a familiar face only to get
entangled in an irredeemable quest. The narrator-protagonist is unreliable and
vulnerable, evoking alarm and sympathy in equal measure. The anti-hero telling
a story of anti-climax is essentially the essence of the tale, although there
are layers and depths to explore.
Echoes and Mirages
One device that Vijay uses masterfully is the ‘echo’.
There is a constant reverberation between childhood and adulthood, Bangalore
and Kashmir, mother and daughter, that gives us the feeling of shifting time,
space and gaze. This is a great narrative device to show comparison, contrast
and the manner in which arcs end and cycles come to pass. In many ways, the
daughter avenges her mother’s death but the brooding, meandering valley and the
story warns us of what is to come.
At another level, this is a story about the
impossibility of redeeming the past and the relying on memory. What is gone is
gone forever and to wade into incomplete stories is to rip apart its integrity.
Memories can be mirages that lead nowhere but to further illusions. Perusing
such illusions cannot but end in doom.
This is good fiction coming out of India asking the
larger questions of political identities through the personal quest of love and
loss. The description of bustling towns and the quiet valleys of Kashmir are evocative.
The human and natural characters from the valley are portrayed with flair and
compassion. The portrait of Kashmir through the silent mountain, the gurgling
ravines, the vigilant cows and goats, the incessant weaving and the busy
everydayness of life is on point. The light and shade, the people and the
forces parallel each other in a dreadful deadlock.
As we celebrate women’s history month, a fresh voice asking
us difficult but important questions is here with us.
