BY Shyam Selvadurai
I expect Sri Lanka to be a lot like India – at least Southern India – more specifically Tamil Nadu (as there are so many Tamils there). Even so I learn many new things – first among them being the “latrine coolies coming by every morning to collect the night soil”. What a shitty job! Tamil words are insidiously present in much of the book – “thuppai government” (rubbish government), “pottu” (bindi), “muttal” (idiot), “mahan” (son); kadavale (Oh God!) etc. These words distract me as I wonder how it affects the reading-enjoyability for non-Tamil readers.
And then there is the Thirukkural (my mother would read this but I had no idea what it was until now) – quotations from this text begin each chapter of the book – teachings on virtue, wealth and love – setting up the reader’s expectations for the next several pages. Most of them sound like easier-said-than-done righteous sayings – “However great the hardship, Pursue with firmness the happy end”; “A wise son gives joy not only to his father, but to all the world” (tall order for anyone – son or daughter – and what about giving joy to the mother eh?!); “What is stronger than Fate which foils every ploy to counter it” (aka que sera sera); “When the foe approaches like a friend, Smile but don’t befriend” (surely helpful only to those who have learned to distinguish foe from friend).
As for the characters in Cinnamon Gardens – there are two that stand out from the rest of the supporting cast and one that is broodingly and menacingly present throughout. Annalukshmi – with all her makings of a feminist – is truly endearing. “There is no worse predicament for a girl in Ceylon than to have a ‘reputation’” – says vindictive aunt Philomena. Sadly for Annalukshmi, she has both a reputation as well as an education – and most boys don’t want a wife who is “better qualified”. Just as well she has no interest in hitching up with a man. Until we come to almost the end of the book when all of a sudden, she shows interest in not one – but two potential suitors. I am still undecided about Annalukshmi’s final decision – after all she is only twenty-two – certainly not old enough to make weighty Life-choices.
Her uncle Balendran – who initially appears a little weak and spineless – eventually emerges as a strong, decent man. Life is difficult enough for homosexuals in the present day and age – in a pre-independence Sri Lanka, it must’ve been excruciating Hell. Balendran almost deviates from the straight and narrow when his ex-lover from England – Richard – re-enters his life. From Richard he learns that the man he considers his best friend – is the one responsible for bringing his “affair” to his father’s attention. Later on, when he finally re-unites with his banished brother Arulanandan in India, he discovers the extent of their father’s perfidy. Goaded into rightful anger in the end, Balendran mans up and confronts his father. He flings his homosexuality openly and defiantly in his father’s face watching him flinch from having the truth spoken out loud. “He had come looking for his nephew’s freedom and, unwittingly, he had achieved his own.” – The truth – it appears – does indeed set you free!
The Mudaliyar – Balendran’s father – is introduced as a conservative-thinking old man – rooted in tradition and bigoted ideas (he disapproves of Annalukshmi reading because he feels that “it puts too many ideas into a young girl’s head”). He breaks up Balendran’s relationship with Richard and engineers his marriage with Sonia – eager to present a “normal” face to the world. He has banished his older son to India for having dared to fall in love with the maid. It isn’t until a grown-up Balendran meets Arulanandan (who is on his death-bed), that he learns that the Mudaliyar not only had a sexual relationship with Pakkiam’s mother (i.e. Arulanandan’s mother-in-law), but that after her death he had brought the 15-year old Pakkiam into his home – for reasons obvious to all but the innocent Pakkiam. He is also openly indulging in a sexual relationship with his secretary whilst his wife – Balendran’s mother – is under the same roof. In other words – a low-life hypocritical bully.
It is a good story – the names of the people so deliciously at odds with the colonial setting – “pinwheel sandwiches, crisp kokis, moist love cake filled with cashew and pumpkin preserve”; “calamander antique” (really must look this up); “white damask tablecloth”; “chintz curtains”; “wrought-iron tables and wicker chairs”; the belief of many at the time who felt that British imperialism brought with it many advantages – “railways, rule of law, postal services, electricity.” They preferred to stay under colonial rule and did not long for freedom. I enjoyed the peek into a colonial past – one that we shared with the Ceylonese.
(Ps: I am grateful to the author for expanding my knowledge of this island – albeit set a century ago. Until now, I only knew about the Ceylonese tea – the many Tamils who live there – and that a female suicide bomber killed Rajiv Gandhi years ago. Oh of course – I also know that the ten-headed Ravana was from Sri Lanka and that is where he held Sita captive until she was saved.)
Note: It appears that India, for the Ceylonese, was some kind of Australia. Balendran’s brother is *banished* to India for marrying a low-caste woman; So is Jayaweeran’s brother after his release from jail. How very interesting!
