Perumal Murugan on returning from the 'dead', and how poetry helped him heal

Much before the 2015 controversy over his stunningly sensitive novel Madhorubagan forced him to announce his own 'death' as writer, Perumal Murugan had earned a reputation of being brilliantly versatile. There is perhaps no literary form this 51-year-old writer has not tried — and been successful in. Arguably the most important writer in Tamil today, Perumal Murugan has written poems, short stories, novels, non-fiction — and no matter what the form, his words have always been delivered with equal finesse.

The excitement in his voice is palpable when Perumal Murugan recollects the publication of his first short story in 1988. “I was doing my MA then. I sent my first short story Nigazhvu (Event) to Kanaiyazhi, then edited by Ashokamitran. He sent a response saying the story is fine, and Kanaiyazhi should get a chance to publish it. It was noncommittal. I waited for months before the story finally appeared in August that year.”

The childlike excitement of a newly published writer is still intact in now globe-trotting Murugan. In 2016, he ended his self-imposed literary exile and stormed the scene with a poetry collection Kozhaiyin Paadalgal (Songs of a Coward). Unlike his earlier poems, Kozhaiyin Paadalgal is full of fury and angst — of a writer reduced to being ‘dead’. He writes as ‘unforgettable’ the day ‘one is killed in front of his own eyes’.  He ‘lets go’ of everyone he is angry with, since his ‘divine language has no words to curse’. In poem after poem, Murugan takes the reader through the dreadfully dark, haunting days of his exile. In doing so, he admirably regains the authority of his voice as a writer and discovers new literary horizons to be conquered.

Perumal Murugan's short stories have been translated and published in a new collection called 'Goat Thief'

Since then, there has been no stopping him. This month, a selection of Perumal Murugan’s short stories — Goat Thief — has been published by Juggernaut. Translated by N Kalyan Raman, the stories — written over a period of three decades — offer a prismatic view in to the characteristics of rural life and sometimes, the exigencies of urban life.

From a goat thief caught in act to a night watchman’s attempts to befriend a girl’s spirit,  Perumal Murugan’s characters are richly complex and beautifully poignant. Employing liberal use of imagery, Murugan in his short stories seeks to establish the glaring yet hardly noticed disparities of day-to-day life. Sensitively told and ably translated, Goat Thief would bring alive to its English readers a world that is complex yet fascinating.

In a freewheeling chat, Murugan talks about his characters, his decision to write and plans for future.

How did Goat Thief happen?

Juggernaut was publishing some of my stories on their app. I think they probably decided to bring it out as a collection when they started getting good response. All the short stories in Goat Thief were written since the late 1980s. I am glad some of them are in English, getting a good response.

The 10 stories in Goat Thief were selected from an anthology which has over 80 stories. Was it a difficult task?

The anthology in Tamil published by Kalachuvadu has some 83 stories, written since 1988. I had some criteria when I decided to shortlist the stories that could be translated — stories that I found personally satisfying in terms of language and content, and stories that attracted reader attention at the time when they were published. I had a third criterion too... I sent some four or five stories that I really liked but which did not get the kind of attention they really deserved. Of that, one story — The Night the Owls Stopped Crying — was translated and published. I am really glad it got translated. I was disappointed that the story went almost unnoticed when it was published in Uyir Ezhuthu (a literary magazine) in 2011. This was some kind of consolation — that my editor and translator liked the story.

So I shortlisted some 25 to 30 short stories and of them, Kalyan Raman and Sivapriya — my editor at Juggernaut—  chose these 10.

Your stories are rich in imagery and the characters speak very distinctive local dialects. It must be a challenge for translators.

My translators and I are in touch throughout the entire process of translation. It involves intense discussions. My translators also explain and take me through the process if they significantly change something. Like when it was suggested to change the Tamil name of my story Velli Meen (Morning Star), into Goat Thief. The translator and the editor felt Goat Thief would communicate better to English readers and I agree. Finally, I am happy my characters speak English and reach a greater audience.

The Kalachuvadu anthology has your stories arranged newest to oldest — starting from stories written in 2015 to the ones written before that. Was this planned?

In a sense, yes it was planned. My readers of today might not really like the stories I had written in 1980s. But I thought it was important to include my earlier stories in the anthology. It helps to understand my growth as a writer. It kind of showcases the changes my language has undergone. So if the anthology starts with recent stories, a reader might find it easy to go into my other stories.

The anthology does not carry your short story Tiruchengode. Was this intentional?

Yes. When the controversy over Madhorubagan (One Part Woman) broke out, I initially decided to change the name of the place — from a real Tiruchengode to a fictional Karattur. Only when it escalated, did I decide to give up writing. When I decided to publish again, I had also changed the name of Tiruchengode in later editions of Madhorubagan and other novels as Karattur. I was still wary of publishing Tiruchengode as part of my Tamil anthology released last year. But a few months ago, I met a Czech national at Salem — Dr Pavel Hons from the Oriental Institute, Czech Academy of Sciences at Prague. Dr Hons is a passionate teacher of Tamil. He told me he had translated Tiruchengode into his language. He really liked it. I was astounded. So Tiruchengode — probably under a different name — will find place in the next edition.

Your decision to quit writing was disappointing. You were not just prolific; you were also doing justice to every form you were handling.

I had the least intention of coming back to write or publish when I had announced my death as a writer. But then I derived the courage to come back from the High Court judgment. The judgment was like some sort of order, some sort of guidance — a calling I cannot pretend to not hear. I did not want to. But then, I have never stopped writing. Even when in exile, I was writing. I had only decided not to publish.

Your poetry — the ones you wrote in exile and published later — seem so different from your earlier poems. Kozhaiyin Paadalgal was different in terms of form and content.

To be honest, I was not writing anything for first three months. Then on an impulse, I wrote a poem. I think something pushed me to write it. The first poem held my hand and made me write more poems. I have had four poetry collections before Kozhaiyin Paadalgal and together they comrpise some 200 poems. But in this period alone, I wrote 200 poems. I have never been so prolific with poetry. It was like poetry had seized me.

I was not reading anything. I couldn’t bring myself to even read newspapers during that period. So I guess my poetry was free from any kind of influence — literary and otherwise.  I realise my language had also undergone a huge transformation. This makes Kozhaiyin Paadalgal different from rest of my collection. In a sense, Kozhaiyin Paadalgal is my first book.

But why poetry?

Writing is a mental habit for me. And I consider poetry as my ideal. It is some sort of release. I think it helped me heal and recover. I do write short stories and novels, but I have never stopped writing poetry.

The Goat Thief is published by Juggernaut Books