‘Portraits from Memory’ by Mahadevi Varma: Capturing the shadows of wounded lives

There are 18 memoirs in ‘Portraits from Memory’, drawing from their “wounded lives”, as Mahadevi Varma would like to identify her protagonists, combining her two books of pen portraits published in 1941 and 1943.

These are essentially characters portraying her own life’s reflections, triggered by their fettered status of extreme marginalisation, socially and economically, in a stagnant patriarchal society. She has boldly built up the uniqueness of each of the 18 individuals right in the beginning of the narratives, either through an assertive conversation or a compelling situation, describing very vividly their physical features and social traits, thus keeping them in the centre of the stories all along.

Mahadevi Varma (1907-1987) was a trailblazer Hindi poet, educator and social reformer. She received higher education in Hindi, Sanskrit and English, defying societal norms. She was married, but maintained independence, focusing on career and social causes.

Mahadevi served first as the principal of Prayag Mahila Vidyapeeth, set up by philanthropist businessman Sangam Lal Gupta, for a number of years before becoming the Vice-Chancellor of the institute. She was awarded the Padma Bhushan (1988) posthumously, Jnanpith Award (1982) and Sahitya Akademi fellowship (1979). She was a prominent literary figure associated with the Chhayavaad movement, which translates into “shadowism”, that emerged in the early 20th century.

Chhayavaad was a product of the political times, and Mahadevi introduced a rebellious feminine voice to it, with deep emotional sensitivity hitherto unknown in the world of Hindi poetry. A follower of Mahatma Gandhi’s national movement, her writings navigated through colonial, feudal and patriarchal spaces most deftly.

Her prose is less talked about, but the present collection is a testimony to her commitment to extend the boundaries of literature beyond any impression of shadow boxing, and at times into the theatre of the rich-poor class divide as well. It should be conceded though that she has raised, within the ecosystem of oppressive stereotypes, more questions than answers.

In the translator’s introduction, Ruth Vanita has elaborated: “Nor is Mahadevi a typical ‘activist’. She helps out when she does not wish to overthrow the existing order, nor does she try to change the lives of all those she encounters. Her typical response is to become a client for workers in the trade they pursue; for example, she buys vegetables from Alopi, cloth from the Chinese vendor, and employs Bhatkin even though she hates her cooking. Only on rare occasions does she go out of her way to find work for someone, as in the case of Gheesa’s mother and the nameless unwed mother. The sex-worker’s daughter realises that the work Mahadevi gives her is in the nature of charity, so she quits.”

Kudos to the learned translator for bringing this iconic Hindi literature masterpiece to English readers.

The translation has beautifully captured the essence and emotional depth of the original work, and the nuances have been preserved with great care. The footnotes are a treasure, and I’m sure this book will spark a new appreciation for Hindi literature among English readers.

Mahadevi Varma’s forte lies in her portrayal of the strong expressions of individuality. Is it her own formidable individuality that she discovered in her chosen characters? Even a dumb single mother, Gungia, stays true to the image of eternally vibrant parental love in the face of open betrayal by the foster son. Little Gheesa’s loyalty to his Guruji’s demands for personal hygiene in Mahadevi’s makeshift Jhunsi village school is nothing less than of epic proportion: “When Gheesa, having bathed, stood before me like an offender, wrapped in the wet towel and a half-soaked kurta, not only my eyes but every part of me grew moist. At that moment I understood how Dronacharya had got his Bhil pupil to cut off his thumb.”

On the back cover of the book, Sara Rai is spot-on, “One gets glimpses, too, of Mahadevi’s own unusual life as a single woman who, in the early 20th century, lived and travelled by herself, forging relationships across class, gender, age, nationality, occupation, and species.”

— The reviewer is an author and former IPS officer