Review: ‘Swallowing The Sun’ by Lakshmi Murdeshwar Puri
Inspired by letters shared between the author’s parents, this debut novel set in the pre-Independence period features educated, empowered and independent women
A coming-of-age story set in the 1920s and spread across the pre-Independence period until the 1950s, Swallowing the Sun by Laksmi Murdeswar Puri presents an almost utopian social world where women are educated, empowered and independent. With a title borrowed from an abhang by Muktabai that talks about transcending boundaries, this is a bildungsroman about Malti, daughter of Madhav Rao, a farmer and a vaidya in Ratnagiri. A progressive man deeply influenced by the works of Mahrshi Karwe and Savitribai Phule, he staunchly supports the education of girls. Malti’s mother runs the household with caution, reminding them of the roles of a woman in the society, of being a good wife and mother. Malti and her sister, Kamala, are the only two girls in the village school. Her father’s request to enrol more girls is rejected by everyone, including the women of the village. Soon, his eldest daughter, Surekha, chooses to marry a man close to his own age. She becomes the second wife of Malak, a minister in the court of Vaishali. When Madhav Rao’s wife passes away during childbirth, he enters a spell of depression. He enrols his daughters in a boarding school in Indore as he sets up his new estate gifted to him by Malak. After their holistic education at the school, Malati and Kamala get scholarships to study at Elphinstone college in Bombay where they are introduced to various strands of the freedom struggle against the British. Accepting Annie Besant’s invitation, Malati later joins Mahila Mahavidyalaya as a teacher at Banaras Hindu University.
In educating and empowering her women, the author creates a supportive sisterhood that’s reminiscent of Kiran Rao’s Laapataa Ladies. This is not to say that Puri’s women characters aren’t jealous of each other. In the book, the author uses these feelings to further develop characters, and to boost them to dream bigger and do better. In one instance, Sarala, Malak’s daughter from his first wife, who is close in age to Kamala and Malati, learns hunting after her marriage. When a hunting party is organised for her, she “looked at the girls triumphantly -- happy she had proven her worth in something rare for a woman in Vaishali, and beyond.” Later, she tells Malati, “…you should know that I dared to do all these extraordinary things to impress, if not outshine, you both!” It all feels like a feel-good fantasy considering the rather sorry general state of women across castes and classes in the early 20th century.
Still, the text is highly aware of the patriarchy. Men are significant both as agents of empowerment and as a cause of women’s fall. But even when they are borderline abusive and have a back story of life-threatening secrets, they display a redemptive arc upon being called out. Interestingly, every couple in the book has a girl as their eldest child, who is loved deeply despite the family’s desire for male heirs. Muktabai’s abhang echoes deeply through these scenarios.
Permeated by the Marathi ethos, the story is held together by songs, translated abhangs, and plays that make the prose musical and present the different schools of philosophy that shape the worldview of the characters. Bal Gandharva’s fandom and the success of a patriotic play such as Satteche Gulam are also showcased. Emphasising non-violence, characters find ways to participate in the freedom movement while debating the various approaches to resistance from Savarkar to Bose to Gandhi.
Malati’s life shows that education and financial independence is the way forward. The idealism of the book’s characters also makes them strive to create a casteless and equal society. However, the novel doesn’t explore caste beyond the circle of Kshatriyas and Brahmins and this is true of the complexities of inter caste marriage too. In the end, it seems, intermingling with lower castes remains unimaginable.
Curious elements of divine madness and prophecy appear at the beginning of the story. During the course of the novel, Malati transcends her circumstances despite her fears. However, the reader is somewhat disoriented when the early prophecies do come true hastily. The writing is rushed towards the end when elements of abuse and gaslighting are introduced and a conflict between women is again resolved favourably despite the intentions of the men.
Inspired by letters shared between the author’s parents, Swallowing the Sun is a valiant debut but one that presents a fictional slice of society that’s almost too-good-to-be-true. Almost unbelievably, it features women with balanced lives who, though they leave their homes seeking independence, still abide by the gendered notions of the “good” wife and mother. Will we always be limited to rousing portrayals of empowered women balancing home and the world and of tragic others who are driven towards madness or death? While reading the book, this reviewer yearned for the determination of Mary Sandhya’s Maria in Maria Just Maria who muses that “another way must be possible.” Still, Puri’s idealism is endearing and does make Swallowing the Sun a good read.
Akankshya Abismruta is an independent writer.
A coming-of-age story set in the 1920s and spread across the pre-Independence period until the 1950s, Swallowing the Sun by Laksmi Murdeswar Puri presents an almost utopian social world where women are educated, empowered and independent. With a title borrowed from an abhang by Muktabai that talks about transcending boundaries, this is a bildungsroman about Malti, daughter of Madhav Rao, a farmer and a vaidya in Ratnagiri. A progressive man deeply influenced by the works of Mahrshi Karwe and Savitribai Phule, he staunchly supports the education of girls. Malti’s mother runs the household with caution, reminding them of the roles of a woman in the society, of being a good wife and mother. Malti and her sister, Kamala, are the only two girls in the village school. Her father’s request to enrol more girls is rejected by everyone, including the women of the village. Soon, his eldest daughter, Surekha, chooses to marry a man close to his own age. She becomes the second wife of Malak, a minister in the court of Vaishali. When Madhav Rao’s wife passes away during childbirth, he enters a spell of depression. He enrols his daughters in a boarding school in Indore as he sets up his new estate gifted to him by Malak. After their holistic education at the school, Malati and Kamala get scholarships to study at Elphinstone college in Bombay where they are introduced to various strands of the freedom struggle against the British. Accepting Annie Besant’s invitation, Malati later joins Mahila Mahavidyalaya as a teacher at Banaras Hindu University.
In educating and empowering her women, the author creates a supportive sisterhood that’s reminiscent of Kiran Rao’s Laapataa Ladies. This is not to say that Puri’s women characters aren’t jealous of each other. In the book, the author uses these feelings to further develop characters, and to boost them to dream bigger and do better. In one instance, Sarala, Malak’s daughter from his first wife, who is close in age to Kamala and Malati, learns hunting after her marriage. When a hunting party is organised for her, she “looked at the girls triumphantly -- happy she had proven her worth in something rare for a woman in Vaishali, and beyond.” Later, she tells Malati, “…you should know that I dared to do all these extraordinary things to impress, if not outshine, you both!” It all feels like a feel-good fantasy considering the rather sorry general state of women across castes and classes in the early 20th century.
Still, the text is highly aware of the patriarchy. Men are significant both as agents of empowerment and as a cause of women’s fall. But even when they are borderline abusive and have a back story of life-threatening secrets, they display a redemptive arc upon being called out. Interestingly, every couple in the book has a girl as their eldest child, who is loved deeply despite the family’s desire for male heirs. Muktabai’s abhang echoes deeply through these scenarios.
Permeated by the Marathi ethos, the story is held together by songs, translated abhangs, and plays that make the prose musical and present the different schools of philosophy that shape the worldview of the characters. Bal Gandharva’s fandom and the success of a patriotic play such as Satteche Gulam are also showcased. Emphasising non-violence, characters find ways to participate in the freedom movement while debating the various approaches to resistance from Savarkar to Bose to Gandhi.
Malati’s life shows that education and financial independence is the way forward. The idealism of the book’s characters also makes them strive to create a casteless and equal society. However, the novel doesn’t explore caste beyond the circle of Kshatriyas and Brahmins and this is true of the complexities of inter caste marriage too. In the end, it seems, intermingling with lower castes remains unimaginable.
Curious elements of divine madness and prophecy appear at the beginning of the story. During the course of the novel, Malati transcends her circumstances despite her fears. However, the reader is somewhat disoriented when the early prophecies do come true hastily. The writing is rushed towards the end when elements of abuse and gaslighting are introduced and a conflict between women is again resolved favourably despite the intentions of the men.
Inspired by letters shared between the author’s parents, Swallowing the Sun is a valiant debut but one that presents a fictional slice of society that’s almost too-good-to-be-true. Almost unbelievably, it features women with balanced lives who, though they leave their homes seeking independence, still abide by the gendered notions of the “good” wife and mother. Will we always be limited to rousing portrayals of empowered women balancing home and the world and of tragic others who are driven towards madness or death? While reading the book, this reviewer yearned for the determination of Mary Sandhya’s Maria in Maria Just Maria who muses that “another way must be possible.” Still, Puri’s idealism is endearing and does make Swallowing the Sun a good read.
Akankshya Abismruta is an independent writer.
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