Tuesday 15 June 2021

Akshada Shrotriya on Sushil Gupta's The Fourth Monkey

                         A Balanced Conflict: Reading Sexuality and Ideology in

Sushil Gupta’s The Fourth Monkey

Akshada Shrotriya


Michael Foucault’s seminal work published in 1976 traces the emergence and development of sexuality – the act itself and its perception in society. In the seventeenth century he notes, with the emergence of the Bourgeoisie, sex was repressed (3). The view that it was an act meant solely to procreate and not for individual pleasure (since indulging in pleasure would be a sin according to the Bible) took the form of rather a tyrannical order. It all went down under an Orwellian surveillance.

In the first part of his book, Foucault talks about the emergence of the Victorian bourgeoisie which ordered for sexuality to be confined within the four walls. A false sense of idealism developed and paired with the rising market forces, it started to solidify. Such great emphasis was laid on the idea that it started to create a moral sentiment in the public. Sex was now an act which was to be performed only and only to procreate.

Attempting to build a context from the French philosopher’s work is a deliberate choice here; the Victorian society that Foucault views with a critical lens seems to be fitting for the kind of society we exist in – that of 21st century India, where sex is still a hushed issue despite the fact that its fruits (quite literally) are very much palpable. The “hypocrisy” that Foucault intends to deal with in his work, is something that the Indian society has – for generations – practiced. It has penetrated into our psyche to such an extent that we have barely questioned it; it is now through engaging in a discourse that one starts to find resolve.

Sushil Gupta’s novel, ‘The Fourth Monkey’, is a direct confrontation of this society since it provides a space for that discourse. It tells the story of Madan Swaroop, who teaches English at a Delhi University college. A major portion of the book deals with the rollercoaster of his married life. Shalini, his wife, is a charismatic personality, unlike him. Her entrance lights up the room. Her husband’s on the other hand, is very likely to go unnoticed. After about 25 years of marriage, Madan is offered the opportunity to teach in a college in Bhutan, where his married bachelor life begins. The presence of youth enlivens his spirit. Added to it is the attraction that two of his students, Tashi and Tshering (Sherry), harbour towards him. They smother him with occasional kisses and visits to his house. Another roller-coaster ride ensues.

The duo of Madan and Shalini wade through a number of differences in their way, which are also diluted by the conventions of a married life. Nevertheless, they love each other and are content with each other. The only hassle in this urban Eden is that Shalini had an affair, which continues even after marriage. The twist in the tale is that her beloved is a metaphysical entity, a God - Krishna himself. And in order to maintain a balance between what she calls, her husband on earth and Krishna, Shalini comes up with a regimented sex routine: two nights per week only.

Shalini represents the Victorian bourgeoisie mentality in the novel. What Gupta, a friend of Madan’s in Bhutan, notes about Tashi’s act of changing clothes in front of the teachers fits the mould Shalini belongs to. He says: “You are imposing bourgeois values of a bygone era onto a culture which is fresh, open and clean.” (Gupta 169). Shalini’s limited exposure to the world and her one-track minded devotion to her God seem to obstruct her vision. In some other instances, it creates a comedic effect, but in others, it leads one to truly question the ideology of the system.

Though Madan has his reservations and doubts, he is informed of his wife’s indulgence with the God after some time of marriage. His atheistic self fails to comprehend the affair but it does not persuade him from asking his wife to abandon her beliefs. He assumes the position of a spectator and takes a back seat as Shalini’s engagements pan out. He does try to bend the rules about the limited two-nights-a-week sex policy, but she barely nudges. For her, this hedonistic idea of self-gratification stands in the way of man’s path towards spirituality, which should be the ultimate aim of one’s life according to her. She condemns indulgence of any kind. And interestingly enough, she gets her way.

The title of the book in this regard, becomes pivotal. A clear allusion to Gandhi’s three monkeys which represent the basic senses in humans – eyes, mouth, ears – each standing for the moral jargon “bura matt dekho” (do not see evil), “bura matt bolo” (do not speak evil), and “bura matt suno” (do not listen to evil) respectively, it asks, who is this fourth monkey? What could he possibly represent? What part of the body is left for this fourth monkey’s hands to cover?

As the novel unravels through the development in its protagonist’s life, the question is not only answered, but it also confronts the false sense of morality that has been solidified in the Indian system due to its unshakeable presentiment. The fourth monkey, as the reader would come to understand, has its genitals covered. Gandhi must not have been unaware of this monkey’s importance; history has shown how un-saintly his demeanour was but unfortunately, this monkey had to be abandoned at the time. Portraying it then, and to a very great extent even now, would have been preposterous. The holy trinity ought to remain holy.

In that respect, writing a fourth monkey into an almost century old narrative is a rather brave act. In theoretical terms, it is what Julia Kristeva terms as an “intertext” which essentially refers to the interaction of various texts in one particular text (Kristeva). A text is then not an autonomous entity but rather, a conglomeration of texts (these may be books, artworks, events, etc.); it emerges essentially out of these other texts. Gupta’s “The Fourth Monkey” is a significant example in this regard. Movies for example, are an important part of Madan’s life. Through the club, he is exposed to the cinema of the world – worlds which are in stark opposition to his reality. The difference that lies between what he sees and what he lives is a key element in the novel, for it relies on the production of a balanced space between the opposing ends – Madan and Shalini. It becomes an imminent question of ideology.

Further, this space of the novel is termed by Kristeva as “ambivalent” for it “implies the insertion of history (society) into a text and of this text into history” (39) which is one and the same for the writer, as she notes. The title of the novel as well as the various attempts made in creating a dialogue between other forms and works of art amplify this definition. And it is within this ambivalent space where the author-narrator dynamics in the novel also becomes pertinent. The narrator is the author’s tool to achieve that ambivalence which he does by bringing in a variety of texts in one grand narrative. Through the interaction as well as intersection of these texts (artworks, books, philosophies, etc.) the novel alleviates the issue at hand. Thus, lending it the gravitas which allures one more to Madan’s tale. Moreover, it leads to the creation of discourse, the importance of which lies in its appeal brought in by the interaction of texts in the narrative of an ordinary man; the socio-political issues are tackled by this discourse.

To elucidate, in his life in Bhutan, comprising the third part of the novel, Madan comes across two young women from the college in which he teaches who show a romantic interest towards him. Unabashedly, he entertains them. Yet, only up to an extent. In one of his initial classes, he talks of angels being sexless creatures and the same day, Sherry addresses him as one. The comedy involved here in fact, pinches at the reality of things which as far as the novel delves into, only Gupta is able to understand the dynamics of. He states his thoughts very frankly on the subject of restrained sex in their marriage. There are instances in the novel where Madan seems to laugh at his own comical fate and there are also places where he feels frustrated and is shown to be in despair.

Another important perspective emerges at the beginning of the book, from its cover. It features the Italian Renaissance painter, Sandro Botticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’ in which the zephyrs are seen to blow wind on one hand on the other a woman with a cape-like cloth appears to cover Venus’s body. The zephyrs are in clear contrast to the woman; they are also spectators unlike the woman who tries to cover the subject of their interest. This image of Venus is invoked in the novel when Madan is gifted a bonus night of love-making on occasion of his birthday and Shalini walks to him undressed. He writes: “The Hellenic vision of Botticelli came alive in my bedroom.” (57).

The image of a fourth monkey with the goddess of love and sex incites humour and wonder. It is our main character’s very own position. Despite the proximity, sex becomes inaccessible to him. By the end of the novel in fact, his picture is displayed beside the trio of monkeys by his daughter-in-law, Tashi. Thus, finally manifesting Madan’s position in a physical form.

Since novel text alludes to Greek mythologies, it would be worth to note here that the most important characteristic of classical Greek texts is deus ex machina. It refers to when Gods themselves come down from heaven to resolve the issue of mortals. This interference of the Gods in human affairs was a tool used by epic writers (Homer would be the best example) as well as playwrights (Sophocles, for example). It would be fitting to say here that Gods were as biased as humans; one simply had to rely on likeability. To take an instance, Paris reaped the fruit of calling Aphrodite the fairest of three goddesses his entire life and suffered from Hera’s hatred in turn.

In Madan’s life, this interference is caused by a God known for his wooing skills, the blue-skinned Krishna. And it begins precisely right after marriage, almost ominous of what unfolds at the end, “I sat by one window and Shelly by the other, with an eighteen-inch idol of flute-playing Krishna lodged between us.” (27).

In his comedy titled ‘Lysistrata’, written during the time when Athens was at war with Sparta, Aristophanes inverts the power dynamics and imagines his women characters as change-makers. This change is brought by the women’s decision to refrain from any sexual activity and reject their husbands’ advances. To indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, men must abandon war. Though it may be said that it limits the role of women to objectified entities with nothing but sex as their weapon, it would be a better interpretation to think of it as capitalising on the male weakness. Sex becomes a tool for Aristophanes by which the women are able to assert their position (as opposed to always complying with and submitting to their husband’s needs, as patriarchy would ask of them) as well as resolve conflict.

Though no such grand war is to be fought by Madan, Shelly’s regiment makes one think of her as Lysistrata – with respect to dominance and controlling abilities. At the end, when Shelly decides to give up her marital status and devote her life in service of her Krishna, it is to be asked if the plot was always leading up to this – symbolic of a kind of asexuality for Madan. The ‘angel’ reference becomes important here since the issue finally reaches its climax and Madan is left to fend for himself. His admittance of his passivity in this respect fits the mould perfectly: “Women have always had their way with me.” (271).

Interestingly, the author doesn’t seem to make any effort in suggesting or depicting Madan as any hero or rebel. He is not shown to be any different from other men – it is ultimately desperation that drives them. Athenian men too gave in when women held their reins. The success of the text perhaps lies in the realism of Madan’s depiction, as a student observes: “Sir, you are the first teacher I have met who does not hide his mediocrity”. (150).

WORKS CITED

 Foucault, Michael. Trans. Robert Hurley. Pantheon Books, 1978.

Gupta, Sushil. The Fourth Monkey. Indialog Publications, 2006.

Kristeva, Julia. The Kristeva Reader. Ed. Toril Moi. Columbia University Press, 1986.


Akshada Shrotriya is pursuing her Master's in English from Delhi University.



 

 

 

Wednesday 9 June 2021

BOOK REVIEW - Shanta Acharya's 'What Survives Is The Singing' reviewed by Anita Auden Money

What Survives Is The Singing By Shanta Acharya. Indigo Dreams Publishing, 2020.

Review by Anita Money


Shanta Acharya’s seventh poetry collection is dedicated to her mother for her 85th birthday.  The four carefully chosen quotations on life from Dickinson, Rilke, Bishop and Brecht have a particular power, not unlike the refraction of light, able to amplify and alter vision so that they act as a subtle introduction to the collection.  The title plays on Brecht’s lines ‘In the dark times/Will there also be singing? / Yes, there will also be singing /About the dark times. The collection, with notes at the end to give context to some of the poems, presents a landscape still familiar, characterized by the metaphysical and philosophical thinking that underpins Acharya’s  view of life yet grounded by a very practical awareness of the world and strong sense of irony, but there are changes: this landscape feels older, more reflective, questions left open waiting for response. 

Her technique has always been low key with lines that have a natural speech rhythm, in-line rhymes and often the use of refrain, a familiar poetic device and a characteristic of ghazals. There is experimentation with different verse schemes and with the spacing of words (noticeably in a marathon of red images in ‘Infinity in Red) but a predominant construction is that of two line verses, some that carry through and others that are end-stopped. Here are two examples from ‘In Silence’ and ‘The High Window’, the latter with a repeating refrain:

 

When fate deals you a losing hand, play in silence.

Luck favours those who mend themselves in silence.

        --------

An act of kindness never goes unnoticed,

The praise of prayer-wheels they say is heard from

                                                               the high window

In life’s intricate game of snakes and ladders,

Winner takes it all, face against the sun framed in

                                                               the high window

Acharya balances her informed understanding of the economic realities that drive politics and world affairs with a deep sense of human suffering, injustice and cruelty.  In this collection there are  four poems where she adopts the  persona of another woman to dramatize brutal experiences – that of rape, murder and female infanticide in ‘Can you Hear our Screams’; an honour killing in ‘Alesha’s Confession’;   genital mutilation in ‘Ambala’  and sexual exploitation  in ‘To Lose Everything’.    In ‘Graffiti’ the speaker holds the hand of a dying boy who has been stabbed in retaliation. 

‘The Bull Fight’ introduced with a quote from Nietzche ‘Man is the cruelest animal…’ arouses our   instinctive sympathy for the bulls and our admiration for the heroism, not of the matador, but of the bull. This sense of sympathy and identification extends to inanimate objects and in ‘Umbrella’ one that has been broken and set aside takes on a feeling of rejection:

 

Bent, broken, it skulked like a skeleton

Behind the door – an extra, never chosen to feature

centre stage, no opportunity to show off its strong,

supple skin, open up, let itself take wings –

 

be properly forgotten on a bus or train,

venture into other people’s homes

like its companion, the walking stick

that went on expeditions far and near. 

Trying to come to terms with personal injustices, disappointments and existential anxiety find expression in a variety of poems: ‘Self Portrait’, ‘The Best is Yet to Be’, Parallel Lives’, ‘All You Can Do’, ‘Just for Today’, ‘Where in the World Does One Find Happiness’(after LiPo).  Acharya questions her sense of self or many selves and the feeling that she is an actor playing a part  in a life that  is not as she imagined, while also searching to find her true self – ‘There’s someone in the mirror smiling at me,/the image is mine but who is that person?’ 

In ‘Woodpecker’, ‘Spring in Kew Gardens’, ‘Parliament Hill’ and ‘The London Eye’ there is engagement with life outside her own preoccupations and she muses on history and locality. This connection with the natural world and life around her provides emotional light relief in the sound of birds, the sight of cherry blossom at the advent of Spring, children learning to fly kites ‘their feet barely touch the grass glinting in the light’ and an aerial view of London from a capsule.  

 

Home and Exile, a reoccurring theme in her poetry, have a dimension that goes beyond India as home and  England a second home: it is a nostalgia for a different reality,  ‘rebirth,’  ‘a world elsewhere’ where one feels at home, free from disappointment and alienation.

Home is not a country or postcode,

more a state of mind, keeper of the map of my world-

 

offering a hint of the distance between myself

and the silence out there, the way life reaches

 

for light, and rays leaning like ladders against the sky

invest my journey with meaning. (from Home)

In the following lines from ‘Homecoming’ God is addressed:

 

Don’t know why I presume you might listen

more carefully to my entreaties in a foreign land?

 

I am the one on holiday, not you –

such are the limitations of the human mind.

 

Talking to you, sharing my thoughts, I keep thinking

you will respond, talk to me through your silence………

 

My loneliness has led me back to where I’d begun.

I’ve nowhere else to go, don’t turn me away

on another journey of self-discovery for I am done. 

 

Compare these lines with ‘The Art of Ageing’ where we are given a list of instructions on coping:

 

Let the young and foolish fume and rage,

Preserve your energy for life’s endless surprises…….

When you pray no point in thanking the Lord

For all the things He hasn’t done, or repenting

For the things you have.  If you haven’t been heard

In all these years, do not take it personally.

There may or may not be a reason for everything. 

Keep an open mind, but don’t be afraid to hold on

to what you believe.  Develop a sense of the absurd. 

 

Both poems, humorous in different ways, have a serious message.  There is an ambiguity that reflects the mysterious and unpredictable reality of existence, the question of belief and the challenge of holding on to a belief against the odds of silence.

 

Family and family bonds are another major theme and she sees interesting correspondencies in the movement of rivers.  In ‘Relationships’ she speaks of

 

daughter  mother  grandmother  great-grandmother

Linking us all the way back through time

 

celebrating the journey    memories of places

travelled   together  apart  shared

 

flowing from the same glacier


head of the soul mountain to a drop in the ocean……..

 

A slip of a stream growing into a river with tributaries becomes an image of motherhood in ‘Find Your Level’: ‘The memory of her mother’s  songs echoes / in her veins as she flows into the sea…’

 

What provides resolution is the recognition of her personal need to write and the human instinct for poetry.  There are several poems on the subject: ‘Why Some People Read Poetry’ (after W.S Merwin), ‘Why Some People Write Poetry’ but also ‘Less is More’ ‘Not Knowing’ and ‘The High Window’.  

In   ‘Words’  she celebrates the creative impulse and sense of relief in finding the words to make a poem, hoping the poem will travel the world, connect with others:

 

imagine your creations  rising like suns

On the shores of continents of strangers,

networks of neurons connecting the universe.

The joy is all yours, nothing’s the same anymore –

Not the past, present, not even the future.

 

The image of a river entering the sea and these lines of Acharya’s return me to the title of this collection and remind me of that famous line from Auden often misunderstood because pulled out of context:

 

For poetry makes nothing happen, it survives

In the valley of its making where executives

Would never want to tamper, flows on south

From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,

Raw towns that we believe and die in: it survives

A way of happening, a mouth.

The singing taken in its broadest sense is about the human capacity for suffering and celebration, for lifting the mortal spirit above desolation, and this life affirming capacity is what the poet voices on behalf of humanity. 

Anita Auden Money is an educator based in London. She is a frequent contributor to Re-Markings. Her conversation with Re-Markings is being featured in the forthcoming issue of Re-Markings www.re-markings.com