Martin Wickramasinghe |
This is the third in a series of sketches on certain
elusive characters in the novels of Martin Wickramasinghe, aimed at first-time readers. Featured
this week is Anula from the Koggala trilogy.
Alan’s search
for his roots is what eventually brings him into conflict with his mother. What
makes up the transition from Gamperaliya to Kaliyugaya, therefore,
is the “uprooting” which happens in the former and the quest to reclaim lost roots in the latter. Alan represents a disillusioned generation, born
out of the newly emerging business class (as represented by Piyal). This new
class, however, were not fully uprooted. Neither Piyal nor Nanda are “at home”
in the city, so to say. They remain unused to this new life, while maintaining
a strained relationship with their ancestral home.
The conflict at
the heart of Kaliyugaya, therefore, is not really between village and
city. It is true that while both Nanda and Piyal adapt themselves to the new
social class to which they now belong, the true conflict is to be found in
Alan’s search for roots. It is this, more than anything else, which guides the
theme of the story.
While Gamperaliya
(which literally means “uprooted”) was about the deterioration of feudal
aristocracy (as represented by Nanda’s family) and emergence of the business
class (as represented by Piyal), the real “uprooting” happens in Kaliyugaya,
where nearly every character, except perhaps for Tissa, grapple with their new
life. In this, Piyal takes to the path of adapting himself to his new setting,
while Nanda tries to but fails in the end. The way I see it, this is what
really makes up Alan’s conflict. Neither mother nor father can be a proper
guide to him. His search for roots, as he finds out to himself, must be done
through another person. This person is Anula, his loku amma.
Anula has been
called a “matriarchal figure” by some critics. This is because she is a fierce
protector of her family. In Gamperaliya, we see a woman who embraces
class hierarchies and divisions in her. She is opposed to Piyal's marrying Nanda,
and even after he has risen to the top of the social ladder, she is reserved in
her praise of him. This does not make her unsympathetic; on the contrary,
Martin Wickramasinghe portrays her as probably the only character with any
independent spirit in that story. She asserts what she feels, even if what she
says is unpalatable to those around her.
In Kaliyugaya,
however, we see a slightly different Anula. Gone is that independence of
spirit, that tendency to assert everything she feels and thinks. She is still
protective of her family name, and on more than one occasion chides Nanda for
having distanced herself from her roots. But she is gentler, more ready to
understand the weaknesses of those around her, than before. For Alan, she
embodies the kind of sympathy he so desperately needs. It is Anula and not
Nanda or Piyal who puts his dilemma very aptly: “He may have been born in the
city, but he never was of it.”
It’s not just
tradition which is broken apart in the city, of course; family bonds also take
their toll under this new life. This is first seen with Piyal’s mother, who,
initially pleased with him, begins to resent how she is being made to adapt to
urban life (when Nanda tells her not to speak loudly as she does in the
village, her colourful reply is “Why do you think we have a mouth to speak
with?”), and eventually leaves for Koggala. Anula and Tissa remain; while Tissa
hovers between city and village, Anula departs for her ancestral home when she
is stricken with tuberculosis.
It is at this
point that the conflict in both Nanda’s and Alan’s minds begins to heighten, owing
to how they react to her ailment. Family bonds have, by this point, all but
completely been torn apart. Nanda’s former love for her sister is taken over by
an irrational fear that her son will be afflicted by her illness. While
visiting a doctor at one point, she asks him whether this fear is groundless;
he laughs and tells her philosophically that while so many improbable things
can happen in this world, it would be madness to think too much about them.
Kaliyugaya |
Critically but
sympathetically, the author depicts Nanda’s unwillingness to send Alan to
Koggala, mainly because of his aunt’s illness but also because of another
irrational fear: that he would take to playing with rowdies there. Anula
criticises her on this count; she tells her quite frankly that whenever Alan was
in the village during holidays, he would thoroughly enjoy himself with these
same “rowdies”, just as Tissa had in his childhood. It is also Anula who
criticises Nanda for having brought Alan up in an English-speaking setting.
When told that speaking in Sinhala would have hampered his education, Anula
retorts by saying that they understand Alan better than any teacher ever could.
Wickramasinghe’s
attitude to human relationships was influenced by Russian authors. His reading
of them, in particular of Anton Chekhov, was radically different to how western
critics treated some of their stories. This is reflected in Anula as well.
Though she isn’t represented as a sentimental being, the way she is treated in
the city is different to the way she is in the village. Piyal’s mother, who
leaves for Koggala in the first half of the story, dotes on Anula, regardless
of whether she has a malignant illness.
This sentimental
attitude to human beings, I think, is to be seen in Chekhov’s play Ivanov,
where its protagonist, against his better judgment perhaps, decides to keep his tubercular wife at home without admitting her to a hospital. I remember Wickramasinghe writing in an essay that the western critic, with his regard for order and logic, would criticise this aspect of the story, since they would be used to sending such a patient to a sanatorium at once.
We see this same
thing in how Anula is treated in Koggala: Piyal’s mother shares lives with and
dotes on her, even sharing the cutlery with her. Even Anula, after realising
what her illness is, refuses to stay in the city and be treated by a western
doctor. Stubbornly, perhaps not unlike Ivanov from Chekov’s play, she decides
to wait without treating it, believing instead that staying at home, away from
the city and in her ancestral mansion, would cure it eventually.
Quite obviously,
this is in stark contrast to the way Nanda looks upon her. Her only fear is
that her children will be afflicted by her. She never fully reveals this to
Anula, of course, and when she is asked by her why she never sent her son to
Koggala, she claims instead that it was because Alan would get used to the “bad
ways” of the village. By way of justifying this, she says that this was also
why Tissa was unable to continue with his studies. Anula, always the frank and
sharp observer she is, laughs at this: Tissa stopped going to school, not
because he got too friendly with village rowdies, but because his father couldn’t
afford to send him to school after their fortunes began to decline.
Anula, moreover,
is a woman who can’t stand the hypocrisies of the new social order. She
(together with Alan) acts as the conscience of both Nanda and Piyal. When Nanda
begins to develop affection for an anglicised, amoral doctor (Samaraweera) she
is the first to come across the affair. Ruthlessly, but at the same time not
without sympathy, she criticises her. As you will remember, it is Alan who comes across infidelity on his father’s part, in the letter he
finds from a woman asking for 300 rupees from him (Chapter Four).
Together, Alan
and Anula become the only characters defiant of urban, sophisticated life,
right towards the end. It is significant that both are thwarted in their
defiance of the new social order: Alan leaves for England, having married to an
Englishwoman, and Anula dies, quietly and gracefully, in the Koggala mansion.
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