The first generation Malayali feminists. Yes. They were real.
Translated by J Devika
The clouds of dusk had already turned the fine sand in the front of the house to gold. As soon as she reached home from the printers’, Kamalamma pulled off the neryathu, brooch and all, and threw it on the clothesline before she ran to her mother. “Wretchedly tired from composing,” she said, “lots of material had to be printed urgently today – can I have gruel and whatever’s for dinner right now, Amma?”
Love, as far as Woman is concerned, is a terribly alluring sweetmeat. You can intoxicate her with it and like a skilled magician, lead her anywhere; make her do anything. All you need to do is to make sure that her intelligence and discretion do not have a chance to ignite the life-force and rouse her from that emotional languor. Fear not – at no time will she free herself from that daze. Continue reading “The Sweetmeat: K Saraswathi Amma”
“My folks are making a fuss. About getting married.”
He said that brusquely, irritated by her distraction. Continue reading “Selfishness: K Saraswathi Amma”
Madhavi’s parents had long decided that they weren’t going to buy her a husband. Her father said, “I didn’t take a pie to bring a woman home. The children number eleven now. If I start buying sons-in-law, won’t we have to pick up the begging bowl?” Her mother said: “The times! Wasn’t I swooped up before I turned fifteen? We don’t need a fellow who’s looking for cash. He may sell her in the end! Let her be here, when the times and her karma turn, won’t someone arrive as if dragged here with a rope?” Continue reading “Marriages are Made in Heaven: K Saraswathi Amma”
Swatantryavaadini 