2

POST script
MAY 13, 2012

SEVEN SISTERS

NELit review
nihilation of physical form, I was impelled to allow her to overcome her social constraints, just as she had dodged the destruction of her self and spirit for so long. Indeed, with her unending cycle of death and reinvention of self, Tejimola has become the quintessential female survivor of an oppressive patriarchal society and she has been portrayed as such by many women writers from Assam. In this reinvention of herself, Tejimola stands for the triumph of the feminine spirit. Ratna Dutta in her novel Dittiya, for instance, draws on such a realisation of the Tejimola story. Another woman writer who has reworked her myth is Monalisha Saikia in her short story Punor Jonom Loi Tejimolai (Tejimola is reborn). Just as in the original tale, she has gone far beyond the restrictions imposed upon her by her feminine form, in literature also Tejimola has not remained confined to a feminist treatment by female writers. In the song, Tejimolaa sung by Joi Barua, the lyricist Ibson Lal Baruah, exhorts the young girl to keep smiling, even though, produxone/kolaahole/poribexor/maahi aaie/khundi khundi/sepi dhore/baagisa tair (pollution, commotion, the stepmother of the environment, crushes and chokes her garden). Nearly a century earlier, Chadrakumar Agarwala had also equipped his own Tejimola with a mild eco-consciousness a concept barely discussed at the time when she had her lamenting, Hatu nemelibi phulu nisingibi Kore naoria toi Manuhe phulor ki jane ador Tejimola he moi (Dont stretch your hand, dont pluck the flower, what boatman are you? Humans dont understand the value of flowers, its me Tejimola.) Perhaps it is this ability of hers to straddle centuries, take different forms and yet remain quintessentially herself that makes Tejimola immortal. She remains forever awake (and alive) among us, as another immortal song sung by the famous Axamiya singer, Anima Choudhury, continues to remind us. T

FIFTH WALL
UDDIPANA GOSWAMI
Literary Editor

Tejimola: never say die

The story of Tejimola, like the eponymous protagonist, reincarnates itself in many forms and many genres of Axamiya literature. Uddipana Goswami questions why
N archetypal character, playing out the common motifs of folktales in a common tale type, there seems to be nothing apparently outstanding about Tejimola. And yet, ever since Lakshminath Bezbarua anthologised the oral narrative of the tortured and tormented young woman in the eponymous tale, she seems to have captured the imagination of many prominent Axamiya writers of fiction, poetry and lyrics. She made her debut in written literature in 1911 through Bezbaruas Burhi Air Xadhu, the first collection of Axamiya folktales. The early years of the 20th century was a time when immense efforts were made to instill, and reclaim in many forms, nationalist pride into the people of Assam. Bezbarua himself made the connection between folk literature and nationalism in his introduction to the anthology. Interestingly however, among the many folk characters he had retrieved from oral literature, it was Tejimola who seems to have caught the imagination of the Axamiya nation like no other. In the original story, she is the unloved young woman, literally and physically crushed many times by a cruel stepmother while her father is away. Every time, however, she survives, transmuting into a fruit tree, or a creeper, or a lotus flower. In the end, her fathers love changes the dutiful daughter into the beautiful girl that she was. This proclivity for metamorphosis in Tejimola is also reflected in her ability to insinuate herself into the different genres of literature emanating from Assam and to take on different forms, lend different meanings and allow diverse interpretations of herself down the years.

FRONTIS PIECE

RRRRRRT G

Tejimola forever

HIS issue is dedicated to finding the true meaning of Tejimola, the evergreen protagonist of the Axamiya folktale of the same name. The long-suffering young woman has captured the imagination of Axamiya writers, poets and singers for centuries now, and NELit review tries to fathom why. Our Frontispiece delves deeper into the various interpretations of the sad tale of Tejimola has lent itself to as well as into the various genres it has provided subject matter for. In the end, the moot question we ask why Tejimola? Why not any other folk heroine of Assam? For those unacquainted with the original folktale, we provide a translation of it. We also include a translated extract from a recent prize-winning novel which takes a refreshing new look at the figure of the stepmother in Tejimolas story. In fact, Tejimolas story has allowed re-interpretations throughout the centuries and that is one major reason of its popularity. A few poems included in this issue illustrate just how varied such retellings have been. Our Page Turner interview this week is with popular Axamiya singer, Joi Barua, who has also like many before him sung an ode to Tejimola. T

WITH her unending cycle of death and reinvention of self, Tejimola has become the quintessential female survivor of an oppressive patriarchal society
politics, to be so warm and welcoming to me and to many others like me who wish to understand them better. Despite their military fatigues or the guns on them, I have often been overwhelmed by their hospitality and sorely tempted to erase from history and memory the intervening years of violence and gore that have torn apart our ethnic kinship. Call me nave, but I have often wondered at the navet of our rebels in allowing the ethnic fabric of our nation to be torn asunder by the machinations of the wily state machinery that rules over us divided lot. Not for nothing have we consistently complained about the stepmotherly attitude of the Indian State towards us. But then, we also have among us another constituent community that assumed the role of the deputy stepmother to alienate each community from the other. This allegory of the State as the stepmother has been in the Axamiya psyche since Assam joined the Indian Union. Mridul Sarma, whose novel Tejimalar Makar Sadhu treats the stepmother empathetically, questions her portrayal as cruel. His

The unmitigated and unprovoked suffering of an innocent young person at the hands of a relentlessly cruel parental figure no doubt evokes every readers sympathy. Tejimola, therefore, remains one of the most popular folktales recounted by Axamiya parents to their children. But then, there are many other characters in the Axamiya folk repertoire that also live traumatic lives and triumph in the end. Why did none of these other characters evoke the same response from Axamiya writers? I have often pondered over this question, and one of the answers that I came up with was that no other character has been able to elicit the same kind of empathy that Tejimola can. Such empathy surely motivated most of the writings on and inspired by her. Chandrakumar Agarwala, a contemporary of Bezbarua, was perhaps the first person to liberate Tejimola from her confinement to the folk narrative and engage with her multiple meanings in his poem of the

same name. The affection with which he rendered her was to set the trend for almost all subsequent literary encounters with the wretched young girl: Manuh kutume doliyay pelale Kaknu kutum pali? Maram-bethare ajoli kuwori Etaike nija korili (Your human kin discarded you, who is now your own? With love and sorrow, nave princess, youve made every heart your own) Despite recent histories of ethnic conflict, the people of Assam do still value the warmth of a human heart, the ties of kinship that built the greater Axamiya nation. During my interactions with militants and ex-militants from various insurgent groups representing different ethnic communities of Assam, I have often wondered how it is possible for people who have bombed, killed and maimed other people in the name of ethnic

proximity to his fathers stepmother, who was extremely affectionate, apparently led him to retell the tale from the point of view of the woman stereotyped as spiteful and vindictive. Nonetheless, he also admits that to the Axamiya mind which imagines Assam to be the numaliya ji (youngest daughter) of the Indian Union, the stepmother will always be linked with the political fable of an unjust and unkind pseudo-parent. While reinterpretations of the stepmother may not be a very common phenomenon in Axamiya literature, Tejimola herself has been reborn many times in many different embodiments. She is the mute victim of interminable torture in the original tale. However, when the new breed of Axamiya writers in English reinvents her she has a voice of her own. In Nitoo Dass poem, she cannot be silenced even by destruction. She becomes soaring words and clamours a strain to the crowd. In my own poem, Tejimola Forever, I gave her a different ending, an agency where she could choose not to be her fathers dutiful daughter and return to her old self, get married and settle down. But having been a creeper, A flowering plant and a lotus, I did not want to be a wife. But nobody asked me. So I left when it got to me. They searched of course But Id learnt to disguise well And they gave up. Now I live and die A plant, a creeper, A vine, a flower. I live and die, Tejimola forever. Struck by her enduring desire to live, to survive every act of an-

HERE once lived a tradesman with two wives. The elder wife had only one daughter whose name was Tejimola. The younger one had no children. Tejimolas mother died when she was still a baby. So her stepmother brought her up. The tradesman loved his only daughter very much but the stepmother secretly nourished extreme hatred for her. Fear of her husband was the only thing that made her take care of the child. With the passage of time, Tejimola grew into a ten-eleven-year old. She became the best friend of a girl from the village after her father had introduced her to that girl. Being a businessman, Tejimolas father had to go out very often to various places for trading. This time he had to go out for business for six to seven months. Before he went out, he called his wife to his side to give her all responsibility of his beloved Tejimola. He said, I am going abroad for sixseven months. So I leave Tejimola in your hands. She is a delicate child, as you know very well, so treat her with love and sympathy. The tradesmans wife thought, This is a great chance for me. In these few months, I will be able to get rid of her, a thorn in my flesh. I will torture her to my hearts content. She also thought, I will not just torture her, because if her father gets any hint of it after he comes back, there will be a lot of hullaballoo. I shall pull this problem out from the roots. If I have to marry her off, half the things in the house will go into her dowry. She is my co-wifes daughter. Since there was no child in my destiny, why should I bring up my stepdaughter? Her father is surely going to gift her a lot of money and things when she gets married. If I can send these things over to my mothers house instead, they will benefit me more. So I should finish her off by some means before he comes back. The stepmother started finding fault with whatever Tejimola did from the day her fathers boat left port and gave her much grief. In the mean time, Tejimolas best friends wedding day came very near. It was to be held a day later. She got an invitation from her best friends house. She was to stay in their house for three to four days and take part in all the fun while her friend got married off. Tejimola was also very keen to be a part of all the merriment at the wedding. The stepmother finally got the chance to put into action her plans to harm Tejimola. She gave her permission to attend the wedding in front of everyone. She even pretended to be very excited about Tejimolas visit to her friends house. Whenever someone was around, she would open one chest after another and ask her, Will this dress be okay for you, my child? or Will this riha and that mekhela suit you? In this way she tried to create scenes of bonhomie with Tejimola. She had a pair of beautiful silk riha-mekhela and an exquisite gold-wired khoniya kapur. She took those out, gave them to Teji-

Tejimola
mola to wear at the wedding function and said, My child, Im packing this pair of dress and the khoniya kapur for you to wear later. You can start off to your friends house in the dress that you are wearing now. When you reach near her house you can change into the dress Im packing for you, otherwise it will get dirty with dust and grime as you have to walk a long way. Saying this, she put a mouse inside the silk riha-mekhela and a piece of burning coal between the folds of the khoniya kapur before she gave the pack to Tejimola. As she was about to reach her best friends house Tejimola remembered her stepmothers advice and opened the pack of silk clothes. As soon as she opened it, however, a mouse ran off from inside and a piece of coal fell off the pack. She was shocked to see that the silk dress was nibbled to bits by the mouse and the golden-bordered cloth was burnt in many places. She was so scared that her throat went dry and her whole body trembled as she started to weep. All the people who had gone with her were also shocked. They consoled the weeping child and somehow managed to persuade her to go on to the wedding where they borrowed a dress for her to wear during the function. When Tejimola returned home from the wedding her stepmother asked her about the clothes and trembling all over, she held out the pack of torn and burnt clothes. The stepmother pretended to be enraged over the whole issue and scolded and beat up the girl very badly. She was not satisfied even after beating her so severely. She then dragged Tejimola up to the dheki shed and asked her to sweep rice grains into the mortar as she herself started pounding on them. She once deliberately pounded on Tejimolas right hand. When the little girl was wailing with pain, the woman struck her on the back with a broomstick and ordered her to begin putting in the grains again. As she was sweeping in the grains with her other hand, the stepmother battered her left hand as well. Then she made her sweep in the grains with her right and left legs and ground them to a pulp as well. Finally she compelled her to push the grains in with her head. She pounded the dheki on Tejimolas head with all her might. Tejimola died. In this way, the stepmother killed the apple of her husbands eye, his darling Tejimola, and buried her after digging a hole in the swamp near the dheki shed. After a few days, a bottle gourd plant grew up in the area where Tejimola was buried. It started to grow very fast and bore big, luscious gourds.

iNKPOT
NITOO DAS

iNKPOT
LAKSHMINATH BEZBARUA TRANS: UPASANA GOSWAMI

gourd, the plant spoke to me like this. I dont need any gourd and Im going away from this place. The beggar woman ran away. The stepmother now came to know the true meaning of all this and took a knife to pull and cut down the climber before throwing it beyond the backyard. At the place where the gourd plant was thrown away came up a joratenga plant after a few days. Its branches drooped with the weight of so many fruits. One day some cowherds saw the fruits in the plant and came up to the tradesmans wife as they wanted to taste the lovely fruits. They said, Good lady, will you please allow us to take some joratenga? She answered, Where shall I get joratenga? On hearing this, they said, Why say so, good lady? There are so many joratenga fruits on that plant behind your house! She was once again surprised and said, I have not seen any such plant, but if you have seen any, you can surely take as many fruits as you like. On receiving her permission, the boys ran to the tree to pluck the fruits. Just then the tree sang her sad song like this: I call you younger brother and older brother, Cowherds from the village you are, Dont reach out, dont pick a joratenga, Go back home from where you are, Crushed over silk clothes by stepmother, Im none other than Tejimola. The boys thought that there was some spirit or ghost in the plant and ran away as fast as they could after informing the lady about the whole thing. She immediately remembered that she had thrown away the bottle gourd plant at the very point where the joratenga plant now stood. She understood that it was Tejimola there in the form of the joratenga plant. So she cut down the tree and threw it into the river. The joratenga plant floated down the river and ultimately stopped at a spot by the river bank to grow into a lotus plant with a beautiful flower adorning it. After a few days Tejimolas father came back by boat along the same river and saw the beautiful lotus at that particular spot. He wanted to take the flower for his beloved daughter and asked one of his boatmen to go and pluck it. As the boatman stretched his hand towards the flower, it sang out: Dont reach out, dont pick the flower, O boatman, from wherever you are, Crushed over silk clothes by stepmother,

Tejimola
She crushed me like grain. Flying husk dust gathered scattered like rain. Im none other than Tejimola. Hearing the flower sing such a sad song, the boatman became frightened and told the tradesman about it. Tejimolas father got curious about the flower and went near it. When he reached out his hand to pluck the flower it sang out again: Dont reach out, dont pick the flower, My beloved father you are, Crushed over silk clothes by stepmother, Im none other than Tejimola. Her father had already had some suspicions about her stepmothers intentions, so he thought, This must be my Tejimola. He took some chewed betel nut from his mouth in his left hand and a sweet ball in his right hand and called out, If you are my Tejimola, you will become a swallow and fly out to eat the chewed betel nut in my hand. But if you are someone else, you will take the sweet ball from my other hand. Just as he said this, the lotus turned into a swallow and flew in to eat the chewed betel nut. Her father was thus convinced that it was none other than Tejimola and took the bird home in a cage. When he reached home the tradesman asked his wife, Where is Tejimola? His wife said, She has gone to her maternal uncles house. He interrogated her again and again until he could extract the truth from her. Then he covered the swallow with his gamosa and said, If you are my Tejimola and if you love me, you will wear this gamosa and become a human again. On hearing this, Tejimola came back to her own form and her father drove away his wife from the house that very instant. T Notes: Riha-mekhela traditional Assamese two-piece dress Khoniya kapur a cotton cloth with a flowered border folded double and wrapped around the body Dheki wooden mortar and pestle driven by foot Joratenga a kind of sour fruit Gamosa hand-woven cotton towel, sometimes worn around the neck
An anesthesiologist based in Delhi, Upasana Goswami is an occasional translator

I flowered into sharp chillies and burning words devoured my fathers brain. No, dont touch me. Dont pluck me. Tejimola is my name. She threaded me like a loom. Strings upon strings tethered feathered like a womb. I soured into tart fishes and spinning words showered scale hooks of gloom No, dont bait me. Dont hate me. Dont lead me to my doom. She trapped me like a cloud. Blue whirling wisps shattered weathered like a shroud. I cowered into spry swallows and soaring words clamoured a strain to the crowd. No, dont snare me. Dont scare me, said Tejimola out loud.

The neighbours, not seeing Tejimola for so many days, asked the stepmother about her whereabouts and she replied, Tejimola has not come back from her best friends house. One day an old beggar woman saw the gourds on the creeper which had already climbed up to the roof of the dheki shed. She went to the tradesmans wife and said, Please give me a gourd, my good lady. As the stepmother had not gone near that place since killing Tejimola, she did not notice the gourd plant. She, therefore, replied, Where will I get gourds for you? I myself have not had any gourd for many days. The beggar woman said, Why are you saying this when I have seen so many gourds on the roof of your dheki shed? The tradesmans wife was surprised to hear that and said, I have not seen any, but if you saw them you can take as many as you like. The old woman then went to the bottle gourd plant and started reaching out to a gourd. Immediately the gourd plant sang out: Dont pick a gourd, Beggar woman, from wherever you are, Crushed over silk clothes by stepmother, Im none other than Tejimola. On hearing the gourd plant speak, the old woman got scared, ran up to the tradesmans wife and said, My lady, as soon as I started to pick a

Source: Muse India 38. Jul-Aug 2011. Poet Nitoo Das teaches literature at Indraprashtha College for Women, University of Delhi. She has authored Boki, an anthology of poems