KC FEB 0011 - Government of Kerala

Prof. Sreevarahom Balakrishnan
Style
Tales
“Isn’t it a miracle that I am not dead
though I have been starving for 25 years?
Is it not a miracle that a family manages
to pull on with the paltry sum of Rs.10 a
month in these days of blackmarket?
Isn’t he who watches unabashedly his
wife and children burning in poverty a
miracle-man?”
(quoted from “The Miracle Man” by
Karoor)
Karoor Neelakanta Pillai is revered
as a father-figure to Malayalam short
fiction and ranked as one of the finest
writers of this genre. With hardly any
high academic credentials to fall back
upon and little initiation other than his
own, he ploughed rather a lonely furrow
in literature and earned a unique stature
as a storyteller par excellence.
He was born as the eldest son of
Neelakanta Pillai and Kunjeeli Amma at
Karoor House, Ettumanoor in February
1898. Having passed the seventh class
in Malayalam, he was appointed teacher
at the Government school. Subsequently,
he passed the Malayalam Higher as a
private student while in service.
Those were miserable days when the
teachers were among the worst-paid.
Karoor, as he was popularly known,
organised them to fight for their rights.
He was dismissed for being on the
forefront of the agitation, but reinstated a
62 KERALA CALLING February 2011

LITERATURE
Simple
Stark
year later. Meanwhile, he was drawn to
the cooperative movement as well. He
went on leave for a few years and worked
for the Nair Service Society with his
headquarters at Alappuzha. He also
embarked on a business venture, but
called it a day after a short while, a sadder
and wiser man. Re-entering Government
service, he retired in 1953.
It was to ‘tell’ something solid that he
took to writing rather than to recount a
figment of fancy. His first story appeared
in Mathrubhoomi, but it took a short
while to establish himself as a writer of
potential. Published in M.N. Nair Masika
and Chitrodayam weekly, leading
journals of the day, under the pseudonym
‘Kandappan’, his earlier pieces evinced
an austere but terse style that was
colloquial and compelling at once. A
man of few words, he went straight and
sharp into the core, seldom bothering to
make his diction ornate or ostentatious.
Brevity to him was truly the soul of wit.
Compiled in two dozen volumes he
has more than 500 stories to his credit,
besides 10 titles for children and a sole
play, ‘Appooppan’ (Grandfather). Novel
was not his forte though he has written
three of this kind ‘Gouri’, ‘Hari’ and
‘Panjiym Thuniyum’, which incidentally
was his swan song. ‘Aanakkaaran’ (The
Mahout) fetched him the Kerala Sahitya
Akademi Award for children’s literature
in 1959 and ‘Mothiram’ (Ring) for short
story in 1968.
He founded the Sahitya Pravarthaka
Cooperative Society [SPCS) along with
Prof. M.P. Paul in 1945 and was its
secretary for 20 years. Starting with 12
members, each investing an incredibly
low sum of Rs.10, the writers’ cooperative
grew into a great organisation, the
fulfilment of his love’s labour. The first of
its kind the world over, SPCS reached its
heyday during his tenure as secretary,
embracing a vast majority of the writing
community in its fold, earning them fame
and wholesome royalty in the process.
When he passed away in 1975, it was a
virtual loss not only to literature and
learning, but to the world of culture as a
whole.
Having experienced the sorry plight
of the ‘overworked and underpaid’
school teachers, Karoor took upon
himself the task of baring their untold
misery to public glare. Harping on the
harassing condition of his fraternity, he
has written a host of stories which are
commonly known as ‘Vadhyaar
Kathakal’ or teacher-tales. And he came
to be hailed as a chronicler of their woes
and champion of their cause.
Acclaimed as one of his best,
‘Albutha Manushyan’ (The Miracle Man),
narrates the wretched life of Nanu Pillai,
a teacher. In his frantic bid to make both
ends meet, he finds himself in a ridiculous
situation, posing as a miracle-man at an
exhibition stall, the regular showman, a
two foot-dwarf, having been indisposed.
In an irony of circumstances, the school
manager happens to visit the stall and is
visibly baffled. Razorsharp and bitingly
sarcastic, ‘Nanu Pillai’s queries, quoted
at the beginning, add to the poignancy
of his predicament. The story however
ends in anti-climax; the indignant
manager sacks Nanu Pillai for causing
discredit to his noble calling.
In ‘Pothichoru’, unable to stand the
pangs of hunger, a teacher goes to the
extent of stealing the lunch-packet of one
of his pupils while in another, a teacher
borrows his student’s clothes so as to
make himself presentable during the visit
of the School Inspector. And the semiclad
student has to hide himself in the
nearby thicket till the inspection is over.
Endowed with an innate sense of native
humour, Karoor has developed an idiom,
all his own, indulging at times in blunt,
even naïve, statements of fact. Devoid of
direct protestations, pious platitudes or
poetic flashes, he drives home the point
quite tellingly. He hits the target at one
shot, and hits it hot.
Far off from the toil-and-tumble of
teacher-series he has trained his pen at
other themes too with equal, if not better,
felicity. ‘Poovanpazham’, for instance,
depicts the delicate moments of an
encounter between a middle-aged
widow and a boy of 18. Endearingly
called ‘poovanpazham’ on account of
her elegance and grace, she scarcely
loses her poise while struggling to
suppress a sudden flush of passionate
affection for him. One of the masterly
creations in Malayalam, ‘Poovanpazham’
can be ranked on par with the finest
short pieces in world literature.
Interestingly, Vaikom Muhammad
Basheer too has written a story with the
same title, an enchanting tale of sparkling
wit and wisdom. It will be a rewarding
exercise to compare and contrast the
two ‘poovan bananas’, coming as they
do from two of the most accomplished
writers in Malayalam, each distinct and
delicious in its own way.
‘Military’, yet another cute little story,
has an enticing O.Henry-touch about it.
Revolving round a rustic girl, it takes place
during the dreaded days of the Second
World War. Terribly scared of the military,
she has the shock of her lifetime as she
is compelled to marry a soldier on a
short vacation. Strange are the ways of a
woman’s heart, for, she is all sobs and
tears before long at the very prospect of
his leaving her after his leave.
Perhaps the liveliest of the lot,
‘Marappaavakal’ (The Wooden Dolls) is
a marvel of a story that depicts a wordy
battle of wits between a young girl who
earns her living making wooden dolls
and a government servant who calls at
her house to take census. The questionanswer
session goes on and on till they
reach a rapturous point of no return. Part
in jest and part in jeer, but always in cheer,
the tricky queries and the quick fire
repartees are a treat to say the least, with
never a dull moment to mar the
scintillating duel.
A ‘natural’ writer who defies
categorisation, Karoor is yet to be
assessed and appraised in depth,
especially the subtle nuances of his art
and craft.•
February 2011
KERALA CALLING
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