In 2015, Tamil writer Perumal Murugan announced that he was giving up writing following an unprecedented uproar by caste-based outfits over his book Madhorubagan, which focused on the traditions of the Ardhanareeshwarar temple in Tamil Nadu, where the deity is part Shiva, and part-Parvati.
Now back with his first work of fiction following the self-imposed exile, Perumal Murugan says he has taken to penning stories about animals – goats, in particular.
He spoke to The Quint about his book ‘Poonachi or the Story of a Black Goat’, in an email interview.
Were the hostile reactions to Madhorubagan the reason why you decided to write about animals instead? What made you want to write about goats, over other animals?
Perumal Murugan: Yes. It was the negative reactions to Madhorubagan that made me write Poonachi. I’m very familiar with cows and goats. It is impossible to write anything about cows in the current political scenario. Since I had already written about sheep, this time I wrote about Poonachi, the lamb.
Poonachi is your first piece of fiction, after your Madhorubagan hiatus. How has your self-imposed exile impacted your writing?
Perumal Murugan: All the ideas that were germinating in my mind before making the announcement had completely vanished. Out of nowhere Poonachi appeared before me. The very discovery of her must have been due to the impact of the announcement.
What is the idea behind the dual title for Poonachi? Is the emphasis on her black coat to reinstate her status in an agrarian society?
Perumal Murugan: During the early years of Tamil novels (towards the end of the nineteenth century and the turn of the twentieth), it was normal for most books in the language to have dual titles. The first novel in Tamil, Pratapam or Pratapha Mudaliar Charitram had two titles. I followed that tradition and gave two titles for this novel. Naming it solely as Poonachi would have left the readers clueless about the subject and theme of the novel. Hence the addition, ‘The story of a lamb.’
In many ways, Poonachi’s initial life is reminiscent of the struggles that might have been faced by an orphan, or an outsider. Can one take Poonachi’s story to be a commentary on the life of the lesser-privileged in a society driven by power and greed?
Perumal Murugan: You have all the rights to interpret Poonachi the way you want to. I don’t have the right to judge your interpretation.
Poonachi’s tribulations and emotions are vastly similar to those experienced by a young adult – her ambitions, sexual stirrings etc., lending the book an allegorical touch. Was that your aim, to continue writing and commenting on the ways of the human mind and its needs, but through animals?
Perumal Murugan: My sole intention was to write about the life of a goat. There were no ulterior motives. You must try reading the biography of a goat. That too is a living being. Why should it be a symbolic representation of the human life?
How much of Poonachi’s ambitions and questions on existence are reflective of your own state of mind? How much of your own character have you lent to Poonachi?
Perumal Murugan: I have raised hundreds of goats in my life. I chose the dark Poonachi from them. She resides in me, but she is not me.
Although Poonachi is a goat, much of her story revolves around her relationship with her human owners, in particular the old woman, who looks after the animal like she would her own daughter. What triggered the urge to write about the relationship between animals and humans?
Perumal Murugan: The characters in the novel are not humans. I have represented them as belonging to the Asura cult. The relationship between the Asura woman and the goat is like that of a mother and child. People are more attached to their pets than they are to their own children, aren’t they?
You write in Tamil, and then your books are translated to English and other languages. Aren’t you worried that a part of the book could be lost in translation?
Perumal Murugan: It is true that certain features and the feel of the book tend to get diminished during translation. But, so what? Am I able to successfully convey my thoughts and feelings, in their entirety, to words when I write in Tamil? I consider it a massive success if I’m able to capture even 20 percent of my thoughts in words. Of course, it could diminish further when the book gets translated. But, sometimes, the aesthetic value increases during translation. The options and opportunities for the work of art increase tremendously.
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