Rajam Krishnan: A Relentless Raconteur

October 23, 2014 03:44 pm | Updated May 23, 2016 07:30 pm IST

Rajam Krishnan

Rajam Krishnan

I think a writer dies when he/she stops writing. The common phenomenon of death does not apply to them. Rajam Krishnan, (1925-2014) once prolific and a writer with a mission and purpose passed away recently at the Ramachandra Medical College.

Rajam Krishnan’s life once again is a testimony to how literature can be created, irrespective of educational or professional qualifications. Born in a conservative Brahmin family near Tiruchi, she got married at a very young age to Krishnan and started writing at the age of 16.

Her first story ‘Oosiyum Unarvum’ (Needle and Sense) won an international award for the Tamil short story in 1952. It was given by the New York Herald Tribune . In 1953, her novel ‘Pen Kural’ (Voice of the Woman) was the recipient of the Kalaimagal Narayanaswami Iyer novel. In 1958, she won the Ananda Vikatan novel prize for her ‘Malargal.’ The Sahitya Academy award was given to her novel ‘Verukku Neer.’

These apart, she conquered the writing world with several other awards such as the Soviet Land Nehru Prize, Ilaykkiya Sinthanai, Bharatiya Basha Parishad, Tamil Nadu Government award, Thiru.Vi.Ka prize, Saraswati Puraskar, and Akshara Award to name a few. She had also written a host of short stories.

When I first read her novel ‘Malargal’ (Flowers) as a nine-year old boy, I could not understand much of its importance or layers. It was the story of a struggling, mentally disturbed teenage girl who had to find a life for herself. But, when I read the same novel after several years, seeing life and its vagaries, I could understand the pains and pangs of Chithra, the protagonist. The psychological impact on a orphaned young girl who yearns for love and affection was effectively portrayed in the novel, especially in a chapter titled, ‘Iruttarai Payir’ (sapling in the dark room). I remember to have cried after reading it.

Rajam Krishanan’s novel later moved on to a different plane; she chose a topic or subject, visit the place, meet the people and then put them in a novel. Her ‘Mullum Malarnthathu’ (The Blooms of Thorn) centred on the rehabilitation of a dacoit for which she visited the places and forests in Madhya Pradesh and met many. ‘Karippu Manigal’ (Salty Pearls) depicted the lives of people working in the salt pans. ‘Setril Manithargal’ (People of Slush) narrated the trials of farmers. She had done extensive research on female foeticide and written the novel ‘Mannagatthu Poonthuligal’ in the most touching manner.

Most of her later year writings revealed an inclination to communism and feminism and a mind strongly against the changing styles of modernity and living styles. ‘Alaigal,’ a novella on child psychology, showed the turbulent mind of a young girl, who did not have parents and hence lived under the care of others. ‘Verukku Neer’ showed how the Gandhian ideals were crushed under the materialistic world even in the 1970. ‘Valikkaram’ was a love story expertly woven in the backdrop of Goa liberation struggle; the spill over was found in another novel, ‘Puyalin Maiyam’(The Eye of the Storm). ‘Koottukkunjugal’ dealt with child labour rampant in Sivakasi and ‘Idibadugal’ showed the changing values in our lives. She also authored two biographies - one on Dr Rangachari and another on Maniyammai.

Since Krishnan was an electrical engineer and his job involved transfers to different places, Rajam’s stories and novels depict vividly the lives in Ooty, Goa, and Chennai. ‘Kurinji Then’, is a beautiful novel on Padugas of Nilgiris spanning two generations. One cannot but feel moved while reading the last chapter. The only foreign land she visited was Russia and that was also figured in her novel ‘Annaiyar Bhoomi’ (Land of Mothers).

She did not change her views and writing style with the fast changing times. Her Tamil in later days became very chaste and tough and she preferred to use complex sentences and phrases. This is a rare phenomena and in a way her strength as well. Personal problems took away her writing skills in the last phase of her life.

She was a great conversationalist and my personal experiences with her as a fan were very cordial and rewarding.

Those who have read Tamil books will find that her style and approach in the initial years and in the later stages will be different and yet underscoring the concept of feminism and the lofty ideals of life.

“My first pen name was Lekhini,” she told me once; she laughed and added: “Even 'Rajam Krishnan’ is not my real name.” I didn’t ask her what her real name was. What is after all in a name when your writings are immortal and speak a lot about you? But at this moment I wonder - what indeed was her real name?

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