‘Fertile Earth’: A Stunning Debut Novel Set In An Ignored Part Of History
[First published in YouthKiAwaaz. I received a review copy from Penguin]
“On a cold winter morning in 1970, …. a row of severed human heads were discovered hanging on pikes in a paddy field in Irumi. There were five of them, fat, clay-like, swollen. The mounting curiosity amongst them was not about the identity of the victims; they all knew who the dead ones were, nor about the identity of the perpetrators; they all knew whose work it was. The only question that remained, therefore, was who had seen it happen. Usually, there was an audience for this kind of thing-they had heard tell — an audience and a hearing supposedly came before the execution. A “people’s court,” it was called. Judgments passed, wrongdoers punished. As they surveyed one another’s faces, they paid no attention to a boy standing mutely just beyond the edge of the field, watching them.”
Ruthvika Rao’s “The Fertile Earth” draws you in from the very first page. A traumatic opening scene, followed by another where we see the 11 year old tanner calmly selecting a cow, slaughtering it, and removing the hide, before stumbling upon the trial and execution of the landlords and their family.
After the initial scene, which takes place in 1971, the story jumps back in time to 1955, when the Communist Uprising in Telangana had been put down, and the landlords/ doras had reverted to their old ways of treating the peasants as bonded labourers/ vetti. The story then jumps forward to the late 1960s, and the growth of the Naxalite Movement in Telangana where people took to violence ot rebel against the oppressive system.
The main story is set against this historical backdrop, and it deals with the unlikely friendship between Vijaya, the older daughter of the landlord, and Krishna, the son of a washerwoman. Both are acutely aware of the societal difference that separates them, yet, they continue with the friendship because it means so much to them. Vijaya maybe the older daughter, but knows her mother loves her younger sister, Sree more. Krishna is the younger son, but he is the intelligent one, and both his mother and Ranga, his older brother, are willing to go to any length to ensure that he gets an education and moves out of the societal status that he can otherwise aspire towards.
One dramatic incident alters the fate of all the four protagonists. Everything changes for them in ways they could never have imagined. Over the next ten years, some attempt to make peace with the cards that life has dealt them, others grab the unexpected opportunities that came their way, and yet others merely bid their time before they can get away. When the protagonists meet under very different circumstances, they find that a lot has changed, yet many things including their feeling for each other haven’t.
The charm of the book is in the fact that it goes way beyond an unlikely love story, and examines the relationship between the many characters. Each of them is a fairly complex character, and their there are unexpected nuances in most of their interactions. The book also examines broad themes like gender imbalance and caste hierarchy. In one memorable scene, you can feel the ruthlessness of the dora as he administers extremely violent punishment on his vetti- but he does it with chilling lack of emotion, almost as if he is merely doing what he is expected to do, and that it is for the good of the recipient of the lashing.
It is also fascinating to see how Krishan’s brother, as a child, pushes the limits of what he can do to a point where he experiences the emotional satisfaction of breaking the rules, yet not so much that the transgression gets punished. When he is later severely punished for something he was not even guilty of, he accepts the punishment because he knows there is no other way, and the only thing he wants from his brother in return for his supreme sacrifice is that his brother make a different life for himself.
The book talks about the many ways in which the vetti were oppressed- the physical punishment that was meted out to the men, and the sexual exploitation that the women were subject to. People, especially women, were bought and sold for paltry sums and remained indentured forever. The book also examines the journey of two people who joined the Naxalite movement, and tries to understand whether their lives were better after they did so.
The author excels in the description of the places where the story takes place. Though the village where most of the story takes place is clearly fictional, it is set in a part of the country which is instantly recognizable. The descriptions of the orchards and the gardens, and of the building at the peak of its glory and after decay set in bring the entire scene to life. When she describes places in Madras and Hyderabad, you see them come alive before your eyes, and you can almost juxtapose the sepia tinted photographs she describes against the places that are familiar to you today.
While the book is written in English, the author has used Telugu and Marathi words to set the scene, without providing translations. While I completely understand why certain authors choose not to include a glossary of words in other languages, I felt that some bits of dialogue were extremely contextual and providing a translation would have added to the experience of a reader who doesn’t speak the language.
The author has clearly done a tremendous amount of research prior to writing the book, and since she grew up in the area, she has been able to capture a lot of the local flavour in the descriptions. The book is similar in scope to the Covenant of Water, though a comparison with the book might not be fair to either of the books. The Fertile Earth is the debut novel of the author, and I certainly look forward to seeing whether her subsequent works match upto this magnum opus.
