A slice of rural life
Shalini Rawat

Six Acres and a Third
by Fakir Mohan Senapati. Translated from Oriya byRabi Shankar Mishra, Satya P. Mohanty, Jatindra K. Nayak and Paul St.-Pierre. Penguin. Pages 222. Rs 250.

Chandrahas Choudhary writing about Six Acres and a Third in a Nepali journal, ‘Himal,’ had remarked that, "the 19^th-century Oriya novelist, Fakir Mohan Senapati, was a most oblique writer; he never said or meant anything in a straightforward manner." That in effect captures the genius of Senapati’s writings, also known as the father of modern Oriya literature. Or how is it possible to transform a bare plot of the fall from grace of a greedy Zamindar into a graphically alluring display of the life of the common man sandwiched between the feudal lords and the British colonialists, and that too with a wicked sense of irony?

Ramachandra Mangaraj, the protagonist of the novel, is a rural landlord and prominent moneylender of his area who usurps the property of anyone unfortunate to cross his path. It is while usurping six acres and a third of land belonging to a weaver couple that his luck runs out. Poetic justice prevails (sic) and Usurper & Co. meet a bitter end. In Senapati’s deft hands this simple storyline transforms into a foundational text supported by rich subtexts and informative (?) digressions. We question the information provided by the digressions because in these witty little hypotheses of the narrator lies the heart of the story. The irony and satire hidden behind these remarks are not tangents but the "view from below" of the life of the wealthier upper class. As when he compares the cranes by the village pond to the "lowly farm hands" who sift the mud the whole day and the swift kingfishers to the British, who, with quick, deft swoops steal the catch.

The omnipresent narrator borrows from the oral tradition and his voice is that of a village barber (or barb-er?) and bhand (the village jester as opposed to the court jester) whom we could meet even today, sharing the choicest gossips of the village with his clients. The narrative too rambles on, albeit not aimlessly, for these excursions from the main plot are the tributaries that feed the narrative. The mock-praise and deferential tone too, in the same way, are probably a disguise for the true intent of the narrative (which was to satirize) in order to humour the very jajmaans or clients who give the narrator a livelihood. For example, when the zamindar’s maid/mistress’ beauty is "eloquently" described by (deliberately?) quoting or rather misquoting ancient Sanskrit texts. In one broad stroke he interrogates both the authority of the maid (the ruling class) and the language of the ruling class. Being in close touch as administrator of feudatory estates all his life and a champion of Oriyan language and literature, he was best qualified for putting forth both forms of discrimination.

Much of what is left unsaid also comprises a major part of the story so that the reader is forced to participate in the novel in order to decipher these silences. This participation as well as the forthright view of the underdog who says all without a "valid" voice permit from the society is what makes the novel universal and timeless.

Senapati historicises and politicises the account of Oriyan village life, takes pot shots at colonialism, interrogates the superiority of other languages (viz Sanskrit) and cultures, either foreign or imposed from above (which mean the same thing to him) and satirises the prevailing systems and administrative practices. A seminal work, which can well represent Oriyan literature in the multiplicity of vernacular literatures as well as negotiate the path for Indian literature in the maze of world literatures.

HOME