LAMAT R HASAN

is an independent journalist

Shortly after his death in September, I decided to re-read Kiran Nagarkar’s Jasoda, one of the last novels he wrote. Given the author’s penchant for challenging toxic patriarchy as a novelist and playwright, I was prepared to read the story of a woman of steely resolve who stands up to both patriarchy and feudalism. But as I turned the pages, I could barely breathe. Nagarkar’s disturbingly graphic-yet-compassionate account of this extraordinary woman shook me to the core. From managing food for her family from the neighbourhood’s lecherous grocer, to taking care of her ailing mother-in-law and being a dutiful wife to her abusive husband, Jasoda functions as mechanically as the cow she grazes in the barren fields of a village called Kantagiri. Especially gut-wrenching is the description of her role as a baby-producing machine. It’s easy to lose count of the babies she delivers, but not easy to forget her expertise in delivering them. She lets them into the world with no help, often following it up with their quick strangling, if they are the wrong gender. Is she a nurturer or a murderer, you wonder. When just a handful of families is left in Jasoda’s parched village, she moves to Mumbai with her sons and ailing mother-inlaw. The city gives her enough money and a view of the sea. After spending seven years in Mumbai, she returns to a now-buzzing Kantagiri and becomes a restaurateur. A few problems affect the book. However, despite the shortcomings, Nagarkar’s quotidian heroine wins hands down.