O.V. Vijayan’s entry into the Malayalam literary scene was nothing less than a miracle. His mojo appeared as Khasakkinte Ithihasam (The Legends of Khasak), blasphemous in its brevity compared to the majestic import. The work was twelve years in the making and on its arrival punctuated Malayalam literature — literary history became pre-Khasak and post-Khasak since. It brought along myths, questions on existence, guilt, metaphysics and society, and magical realism, among other themes. You could look at it through any lens, and it would still be coherent and enchanting. Vijayan’s canvas had shades of metaphysics — even so, its scope was wider.
Khasak’s Ravi with his questions on life, being and existence reflected Vijayan’s sceptical and philosophical outlook. Ravi also was the voice of the youth of Vijayan’s time disillusioned by a meal-to-meal existence. They were swept along the waves of an existentialist attitude set off by writers such as Sartre, Camus and Dostoevsky. In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus says that the only serious philosophical problem is suicide; it is intimately connected with the question whether life is worth living or not. Khasak, with its strong existential flavour, should be read in light of this idea too. In such a reading, its layered complexity becomes apparent to the reader.
Ravi is a sceptic; his voyages are quests for surety. He wanders in search of the ultimate truth, in which he hopes he will find stability — he is also trying to escape a past riddled with guilt. But in constant struggle with the absurd, Ravi commits another sin — ending the struggle which makes life meaningful. One must remember Camus: “The real effort is to stay there [in life]… and to examine closely the odd vegetation of those distant regions.” Ravi’s journey starts with an illegitimate affair and it ends with another — his suicide. It is as if Ravi finds certainty in death, but here he loses the ‘authenticity’ of existence.
Later in Gurusagaram (The Infinity of Grace), you come across a different outlook on life. Ravi’s quest for certainty ends with Kunjunni in Gurusagaram. Through his transcendental experiences, Kunjunni understands the greater truths and harmony of his universe. There is a realisation of the fundamental interconnectedness of things. You see Vijayan bringing about a transition from the sceptic metaphysician of Khasak to the unvexed sanyasi-like journalist of Gurusagaram. You are also witnessing a transformation of Vijayan himself from a pessimistic youth — “I am destined to know and yet this curse is on me — the knowledge that Truth is, and that it is forbidden to man,” says Ravi, to a complacent man, attaining peace by being at one with the universe.
Truths of universe
The readers of Vijayan will discover this journey from doubt to certainty in Khasak too. Ravi travels from uncertainty to assuredness though he does so by an unauthentic act. On closer reading, you find that even the entire work undergoes this journey — from Khasakkinte Ithihasam to The Legends of Khasak (translated by Vijayan himself) the work gets transformed. In Malayalam, Khasak contains ambiguities and mentions the many truths of universe. In English, the language is definite and detailed; there are no ambiguities. It tells of truths which make the bigger truth. It is as if Khasak foretold the entire life Vijayan and his works would live through. Vijayan wrote in the Afterword to Legends that much was lost in translation. But you discover, with glee, that the details and elegance of composition make up for the loss.
His other major novel Dharmapuranam, like some of his short stories, is a tale of power structures. A satire of Indian politics of his time, Dharmapuranam (The Saga of Dharmapuri) spent several years underground during the Emergency. The style is sharp in its directness and might be disturbing to some readers. Short stories like The Wart, The Foetus, Oil, and The Examination also speak of power dynamics and authority.
There are other stories by Vijayan which discuss the beauty — and at times the futility —of life. “Permit me to remember. Memory shall be our colloquy,” says Vijayan. After the Hanging and The River remind readers of samsara, the life cycle, to which mortals are bound.
In his novels, you might find in Vijayan a conformist on some occasions — on building the climax of Khasak, for example. In other works and instances, you come across a spiritualist, who had found peace in life. The prowess of Vijayan’s art presents its readers the philosophy they desire to see, yet it is unsettling in its narration.
Thought reflecting on itself has a sublime beauty and the entire oeuvre of Vijayan manages to capture that brilliance.