In a world where everything is straightforward and where perfection prevails, what work does the writer have? It is the world where ugly habits prevail, where rules are broken, a world with no values, a world of greed and desire and cruelty, a world that has rotted from all these that best lends itself to fiction, and this world is that of asuras, Asuralokam.”
Perumal Murugan’s Estuary starts with this ‘disclaimer’ in the foreword, a possible nod to the troubles he faced with his previous books. Despite the book being conveniently labeled as realistic fiction, the addition of the Asura context seems directed at his detractors. After all, they did proclaim Perumal Murugan is dead.
Estuary, translated in English from the original Tamil work titled Kazhimugham by Nandini Krishnan, is a simple story about a middle-class family. Kumarusurar, your classic government employee, his wife Mangasuri, a homemaker, and their son Meghas make up this nuclear family. But beyond this very simplistic definition, this is a story weaving multiple urban tropes – the bumbling father struggling to deal with technology, the mother ‘spoiling’ their lone son, the entire board exams – engineering/medical college tragicomedy, societal pressure to get kids married in ‘good’ families, etc. Basically, every typical Indian stereotype you could think of. The couple tries their best to constantly ensure their son is provided with everything he needs and the father and son’s seemingly dysfunctional relationship gives the former a lot of anxiety. It keeps him up at night and he can’t even blame the oily vadai for that. The text also drops in on the travails of parenthood and how parents struggle to deal with their children transitioning to adulthood. Kumarusurar is worried about his son possibly being addicted to his phone, porn, or both. Both mother and father pray that their son does not fall to the vices available in abundance at the seemingly liberal college Meghas wishes to study at. The book relies heavily on observations and the plot meanders along at a slow and steady pace, wrapping us up in the idiosyncrasies of this Asura family and Asuralokam as a whole.
The read: A short and breezy run with very simplistic yet beautiful writing. One would think the translation ruins the essence of the original work in most cases. But in this case, without the slightest of ideas about the original work, I can say Krishnan’s done an excellent job. It had me thinking for a long time post-read and I’d say that’s a major win considering the numerous distractions one can indulge in (this is a nod to to the book, yes). Loved the slow yet comforting lull of the ending, which touches upon the titular estuary. Delightful and refreshing, I’d love to walk off to a beach and read something like this as the sun and the waves set in on me.
16/365.
Trivia: The word estuary , has 16th-century origins, coming from the Latin aestuarium meaning “a tidal marsh covered by water at high tides; channel inland from the sea”. This Latin influence lends estuary an intellectual air that differs from the mythological feeling imbued in firth, the Scottish equivalent, which is a 15th-century adaptation of the Old Norse word fjörðr – the wonderfully evocative definition of which translates as “arm of the sea. Lovely word, isn’t it? (Reference)
Documentation:
Book: Estuary
Author: Perumal Murugan , Translated by Nandini Krishnan
Year of Release: 2020
Publisher: Westland