Review of Marathi novellas ‘My Last Autobiography’ and ‘The Woman Who Wore a Hat’ 

Marathi novelist Rajendra Banahatti’s novel features the pain of becoming a widow after 75 years of marriage. My Last Autobiography. There is irritability of children who cannot understand the whims of the old man. There are also friends who are too old to stop by to meet each other. There is a slowing down of the body that once went for a walk but can no longer climb stairs. There is dependency on caregivers. However, this novella is far from a sad story. Filled with humor and descriptive subtlety, Banahatti pulls off a literary coup.

My Last Autobiography It’s buoyant, with translator Jerry Pinto admirably capturing the irreverent tenor and repetitive rhythm of a non-upstart. The 94-year-old hero is writing his third autobiography and ponders whether death has somehow forgotten him.

The narrator is an engineer whose name he thinks might still be engraved on the side of a bridge in Satara. He likes perfumes and pungent foods. He is afraid of dogs, the dark, climbing trees and swimming. His analysis of his children’s characteristics is filled with his love for the quirks of human nature.

As for his youngest son, Bandu, whom he forced to become a doctor without regret, he says that he is a sullen, secretive and withdrawn person: “Some people are like that. They are always lost, frustrated, angry. No matter how successful they are, they are always dissatisfied.” And there is an agonized self-reflection that recognizes the fragility of his assumptions: “Was my nagging making him angry? Is it because I’ve lived this long?”

Banahatti’s narrative style is astounding: even though everything is from a first-person perspective, the reader catches the unspoken counterpoint. Even though the old man insists that his son does not understand him, you see the care and attention that son shows. Although the old man insists that one does not need to be philosophical or spiritual because one seems closer to death, one can see both these aspects in one’s attitude towards life. Obliquely shared glimpses of guilt, fear, and sadness are all wrapped in love, humor, and the ridiculousness of the purposelessness of an ordinary life.

In the world of Kamal Desai

1975 novella by Kamal Desai Woman Wearing a Hat It is often read as a feminist piece about societal perceptions of the role of women, written by a woman. But if this work, translated here by Shanta Gokhale, is allowed to escape limited feminist trappings, the philosophical examination of the purpose of life can be usefully brought to the fore.

Five old men meet every evening in a house with an octagon-shaped guest room. Each carries a story of loss, separation, grief and low self-esteem. There are scars in every individual’s life; A lost child, a broken marriage, insecurity, addiction. This all leads to the big picture of despair. The octagonal living room resembles a giant octopus arm that can swallow; Where even flowers are doomed to fade.

Excitement enters their lives with the appearance of an unnamed young woman wearing a hat. Both men and women are triggered by the presence of this mysterious person who has no memory of his past. His absence or loss of identity does not disturb him as it disturbs those around him. The only thing that drives him is his passion to make a film, replicating if possible a Disneyland in Maharashtra. And for the sake of this passion, she consents to the use of her female body by people who cannot see anything other than the body.

Just like Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s OwnIn the film, where the author imagines Shakespeare’s equally talented sister running away from home in search of a theater where her talent could be showcased, here is a woman chasing a single dream. While the world is busy trying to know who he belongs to, he is completely engrossed in his creative pursuits.

marathi rhythm

Desai was ahead of his time. In 1975, years before postmodernism became popular, he used a narrative that fragmented back and forth. The story has loose ends that he doesn’t bother to tie up neatly. There are bits and pieces of individual stories that can be pieced together. But the author leaves the mysteries as they are. Did the woman really lose her memory? Do you have a death wish? How did he die? Seeking definitive answers to some of these questions points to a mindset that expects reality to have causal connections that can make matters explanatory. To answer the puzzle is to determine its meaning in the only way we know how to evaluate reality. The woman wearing the hat refuses to adhere to such claims of realism or reality.

Pinto and Gokhale masterfully recreate the Marathi rhythm of these two novels. Theirs is a translation in which the original inflections emerge. While Pinto maintains his endearing style of referring to one’s partner only by the pronoun or “Aaho,” Gokhale describes a wall clock that chimes on the hour as: “Two tiny sparrows pecking at the grains on either side of the gently swinging pendulum.” It’s an unexpected time for Marathi literature in the field of translation.

He is a critic, Sahitya Akademi translation award winner and editor of ‘250 Years Of Jane Austen: Indian Responses’.

My Last Autobiography

Rajendra Banahatti and Jerry Pinto

Talking Tiger

₹399

Woman Wearing a Hat

Kamal Desai; trs Shanta Gokhale

Talking Tiger

₹399