Martin Wickramasinghe |
This is the fourth in a series of sketches on certain elusive
characters in the novels of Martin Wickramasinghe, aimed at first-time readers.
Featured this week is Aravinda Jayasena from “Viragaya”.
I wrote a little
about Aravinda in my article on Tissa, the first in this series. I did so
intending to show (or prove?) that Martin Wickramasinghe’s overarching goal in
his novels (and, to a lesser extent, short stories) was the depiction of a
particular type of character. It’s significant that Viragaya (1956)
preceded Kaliyugaya (1957). Aravinda Jayasena in the former novel “exerts”
himself on the character of Tissa in the latter. This is open to debate, but
the way I see it, Wickramasinghe’s novels, especially after Gamperaliya,
were all character-driven, almost all of them focusing on the kind of character
epitomised by both Aravinda and Tissa.
Viragaya, considered Wickramasinghe’s greatest, was published at a time of
deep cultural change. 1956 was the year of “Sinhala Only”, of S. W. R. D.
Bandaranaike’s rise to power, and of a revival of Buddhism (with the 2500th
Sambuddatva Jayanthi). It is from this point that we should approach Aravinda
Jayasena.
Aravinda is not your
typical protagonist. Measured against the other characters of Wickramasinghe’s
novels I examined before, he is an entirely different kettle of fish. The closest
to a likeminded figure in Wickramasinghe’s stories for him would be Tissa, but
even here the comparison doesn’t quite seem true. Let me be frank here, hence:
Aravinda Jayasena’s character is unique to Viragaya, its time, and Wickramasinghe’s
entire career. Never again would such a person be featured in a Sinhala novel.
The story
begins, as you will remember, not with Aravinda himself, but with a friend who
discovers a diary of his. Sammy, Aravinda’s friend, is the narrator for a
couple of chapters or so. The tone and mood of the story shift when Aravinda beings
to “narrate” his story (by this time, he is dead). The novel ambles along a
series of vignettes, reflecting on his childhood and his later life. To the
conventional reader, these sketches may even appear too hazy, too “pointless”,
to have a bearing on the larger story. It is to the author’s credit, however,
that he keeps a fine balance between personal experience and social commentary.
Through his life story, Wickramasinghe offers a deft critique of the society in
which he is placed.
From the start,
he is shown as a character that has no set purpose in life. His father is a vedamahattaya,
but he abhors biology because he would have to perform surgeries and dissect
animals. Instead, he takes to chemistry, a highly experimental but at time same
time unprofitable field. He gives up his fiancée, Sarojini, to his friend
Siridasa, lacking courage to elope with her. Like Tissa, he detaches himself from
everything. This pits him against his sister, Menaka, who clearly wants him to “climb
up”. When he has all but completely given up on everything that she desires,
she lets him go scornfully, refusing to look him up even on his deathbed.
Wickramasinghe
almost always depicted the village, not as a paragon of virtue (unlike the more
romantic stories of Piyadasa Sirisena), but as a flawed, frail place which
still has some basic human goodness. His criticism of the village in this story
proves this. It is only a simple village girl, Bathee, who looks after her. She
is a virtual outcast, shunned as vulgar by practically everyone around her. His
association with her gives rise to gossip, believed by almost everyone, except
his closest friends, Sarojini included.
Viragaya |
The first and foremost
point about Aravinda is this, hence: even though he is presented as a Bodhisattva-like
figure, he too is flawed. Although the story never lets us know for sure, it’s
hinted that Bathee is the only character to whom he is drawn, though not in a
romantic sense. He finds it difficult to let her go, and when a simple villager
(Jinadasa) begins flirting with her, he is overwhelmed with jealousy. He lets
her go, finally and with much effort, and even buys a car for Jinadasa to earn
a living as a driver. Being the simpleminded person he is, he disregards the
gossip around him.
Aravinda’s character
is as difficult to define as it is to draw up. We are never sure what his next
move is. He is naive at certain points in the story, so much so that we feel
that his diary vignettes reflect his simple-mindedness a little too much. This
is only partly true, however. He is the perfect rebel, because he doesn’t
flaunt how much he is at odds with a society that expects him to behave “like a
man”. He is quiet and restrained in how he looks after Bathee as a child: she
calls him “father”, and he neither encourages nor discourages her.
It’s also
notable that his outlook on life and the world at large is shaped by his
attitude towards the three women who entangle in his life: Bathee, Menaka, and
Sarojini. Each of them symbolises a different kind of woman: Bathee the vulgar
but honest, Menaka the ambitious and sharp-tongued, and Sarojini the quiet and
reflective. Sarojini is the more reserved and restrained of the three, while
Bathee, though emotion-ridden and wild-eyed, is essentially the kind-hearted
girl within.
It’s significant
that for the greater part of Viragaya, Aravinda is in contact with her. She is the last fetter to break through for him to achieve a
peaceful existence (and death). She is the last bond to detach from, after he
gives up Sarojini to Siridasa and leaves Menaka after a disagreement. When he finally does detach himself, however, he falls ill. In
his death, he achieves something of an apotheosis. This is why I have always
felt that if there were a character in Western literature that could be
compared with him, it would have to be Jesus Christ.
Still, this
doesn’t remove the Buddhist “aspect” of the story. “Aravinda” means “lotus” in Sanskrit.
Buddhism is filled with symbolism and symbols, and the lotus flower is used as
an analogy for the samsaric voyage: just as the flower grows out of mud, so
should man move out of samsara and attain nibbana. Wickramasinghe
never lets us know whether Aravinda lets go of his bonds to such a degree that
he attains it; nonetheless, he assures us, by the final chapter, that his
character has tried to such a level that we can be sure his samsaric
voyage will end someday, soon. On this note, Wickramasinghe ends the richest work
of fiction a Sinhala author could write.
Written for: Ceylon Today LATITUDE, December 7 2014
Written for: Ceylon Today LATITUDE, December 7 2014
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