Feeling Kerala review: An anthology journeys into the heart and soul of God’s Own Country

The state of Kerala has more often than not been painted in one-dimensional, stereotypical colours, despite the fact that, like any other region, it is a multifaceted society with a wide range of experiences, perspectives, and individuals. As a consequence of the selective portrayal of the state in mainstream media, a limited and threadbare image of Kerala that emphasises on certain cultural practices or scenic attractions while overlooking other dimensions of the state is created.

However, with Feeling Kerala: An Anthology of Contemporary Malayalam Short Stories (Penguin Random House India), translated into English by J. Devika, readers are transported to a Kerala that is different from what they’ve been told all these years. Devika, a feminist scholar, has made tremendous contributions to the fields of gender and cultural studies, and with this book she aims to tell ‘the larger Kerala story that Malayalis have never stopped telling themselves, to heal themselves.’

The spirit of Kerala 

Elucidated by some of the best Malayalam writers, Feeling Kerala, through fictionalised tales, tells the various realities of the people of the state that the dominant narrative evades. It is no surprise that Devika, who has spent the better half of her life understanding society at large, believes that numbers, statistics, and academic material can give an insight into what a state is, but to truly feel the soul of a place, one must turn to its literature because, as Devika quips in the Translator’s Introduction, ‘Malayali society is best documented, in my view, in the works of Kerala’s literary writers.’

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The book is a collection of 13 Malayali short stories, written by 13 different writers, young and old, who take you to mansions of the nouveau riche as well as to the fisherfolk and their coastal lands, to the women who battle patriarchy, and to the predacious politicians, to the elitist men and the frustrated college professors, these stories explore the lives of several people — the only common thread between them, is how they capture the spirit of Kerala, a state that is an amalgamation of assorted mores.

People’s stories 

Kerala has, for the longest time, been seen as this hyper-equitable, communist state championed for its literacy rate and education but ignored for the tales the travel through the nooks and crannies of its highlands and the burgeoning urban spaces. While the political parties and mainstream media frantically drive the narrative of Kerala’s democratic tenacity, the people of the state have different stories to tell, stories that no one is hearing, stories that these writers are articulating using the aid of fiction, stories that translators like Devika aspire to tell the whole of India that still regressively looks at the South as a whole, turning blind eye to the folks who inhabit it.

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Take for instance, Shahina E.K.’s ‘Like Wind, Sun, Leaf and Flower’ aka ‘Kattum Veyilum Ilayum Poovum Pole’ in which the author spectacularly sheds light on the angry young women of the state, which proudly parades its educated, so-called liberal population but still applauds docility and shame in those women who make a half of that ‘highly literate’ population. Of course, gender no longer means man and woman, but also incorporates queer identity, and Kerala sees growing transgender activism. Shahina’s story explores the selfhood of women, who seek to assert their own existence and refuse to be bogged down by patriarchal institutions or gender norms that box people into men and women.

The collective sentiment 

Another rather interesting story is that of G.R. Indugopan’s ‘Skyrocket’ aka ‘Elivaanam’ which depicts the vast spectrum that encapsulates Kerala — one end of which is the immensely elite and capitalistic, and on the other fiercely compassionate communist. Devika marvelously describes this dichotomy that Indugopan expresses by writing, ‘Indugopan’s story unfolds within the two extremes of the contemporary unequal Malayali society.’ 

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Indugopan’s story sheds light on the despondent labourer who is exploited, disparaged and isolated by the rest of Malayali society, that looks down upon them for various reasons — the rich do so, because it’s matter of power play, one that benefits them, the establishment does so because they are too insignificant a group for them to care, and rest of the folks do so, because excluding people based on caste and class is the most natural human instinct.

Anyway, I digress: the point is that Feeling Kerala is replete with such stories that dive deep not into the surface-level facts, but rather into human emotions that bustle within this one fine state, and as the name of the book suggests, it’s all about what you feel. A country, or state, or city isn’t made by the bricks and metal that collect in it, but instead by the collective yet individual sentiment that the people who live in it embody.