Stories from My Bookshelf – 11
By Manju Kala
Books are quiet sanctuaries of the human spirit, where the rustle of turning pages sounds like the gentle whisper of time itself. Each volume rests on a shelf as a silent vessel of memory, holding the distilled dreams, sorrows, and triumphs of generations past.
To open a book is to step across a threshold into an invisible world, where language transforms into vibrant landscapes and deep, unspoken emotions. Books bridge the vast chasms between different eras and cultures, allowing us to hold intimate conversations with minds long gone and to find pieces of our own souls mirrored in the words of strangers. In a fleeting world, books remain beautiful, enduring monuments to our shared humanity, gently reminding us that we are never truly alone.
Books are also an integral part of our lives right from childhood. Most of us are introduced to stories through Cinderella, Aladdin Ka Jinn, Chanda Mama, Pinky, Motu Patlu, or perhaps Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, which become our favourite childhood adventures.
As we grow older, our bookshelves expand into the worlds of Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steel, Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, Acharya Chatursen, Amrit Lal Nagar, Mahasweta Devi, Jhumpa Lahiri, Bhisham Sahni, Shivani and Vladimir Nabokov.
Each of us has read at least one genre—whether a comic, thriller, romance, fairy tale, historical novel or poetry.
But what is the difference between classic and popular fiction? Perhaps popular fiction gives us pleasure, while a classic leaves an imprint. Popular books entertain us; classics speak to us. They touch something deeper—they stir our emotions, provoke thought and often remain with us long after we have turned the final page.
A classic has a longer shelf life because it continues to speak across generations. Classics talk to you, to your heart and my heart talks to Shantala.
KV Iyer’s Shantala, the Pattamahishi Rani Shantala, from my bookshelf, has stood the test of time for me. It is an emotional journey into the life of Shantala, the queen of Vishnuvardhana.
Shantala—the name itself is beautiful. Her way of doing things was amazing. She was a glorious dancer, a gifted musician and a genius mathematician. She is also associated with the sculptural tradition of the Chennakeshava Temple.
The story goes that she was the talented daughter of a general in the Hoysala kingdom. She was such a wonderful dancer that the Chalukya king threatened the Hoysala kingdom with war just to see her dance. She would have to offer a sacred dance at the Lakshmi Temple before the war.
When King Vishnuvardhana first saw her dance, the meeting had been meticulously planned by his grandmother so that he would fall in love with her and marry her. Vishnuvardhana made her his Pattamahishi, or chief queen.
After many years of marriage, she could not give birth to a male heir to the kingdom. Though she requested multiple times, her husband refused to denounce her and take Lakshmi, the second queen who was expecting at the time, as his main queen. In an attempt to get out of the way of the husband she loved, Shantala tragically ended her life by jumping from Shivaganga, a tall hill near Bengaluru.
I had the opportunity to photograph the Chennakeshava Temple, where Rani Shantala is believed to have inspired some of the temple’s sculptures. There is also a fascinating resort, Hoysala Village, a traditional place known for delicious Kannada cuisine. Many thanks to Mr and Mrs Nagesh, our family friends.
But Rani Shantala touched my heart. I still feel emotional and tearful when I think of her tragic end.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen beautifully captures the dreamy essence of my college days. This story is a classic example of arguments turning into romantic confessions.
Pride and Prejudice has been one of the most well-known romantic novels in the English language since it became an instant hit in 1813. Elizabeth Bennet, the book’s vivacious protagonist, was described by Jane Austen herself as “as charming a person as ever appeared in print”.
The passionate arguments between opinionated Elizabeth and her haughty beau, Mr Darcy, are a wonderful example of polite sparring. This book is the finest comedy of manners of Regency England, because Jane Austen’s dazzling wit sparkles as her characters dance a delicate quadrille of flirting and intrigue.
The soul nectar of my bookshelf is Kalidasa.
Kalidasa’s Meghaduta, or The Cloud Messenger, still thrives, even as India’s monsoon seems to stop following its old script.
Composed sometime in the fourth or fifth century CE, Meghaduta is barely 120 stanzas long, yet it remains one of Sanskrit literature’s most travelled poems, in every sense. Its plot is simple: a Yaksha, a minor nature spirit in the service of Kubera, is exiled for a year to central India for neglecting his duties. Pining for his wife in Alaka, a city on Mount Kailasa, he intercepts a monsoon cloud at the start of the rains and begs it to carry her a message of longing and reassurance.
Kalidasa’s poem mapped the monsoon landscape with startling precision. Today, as western disturbances, rainfall deficits and flash floods alter that same landscape, Meghaduta raises an interesting question: does it still speak to India’s rains, or has it also begun to mourn them?
If you enjoy Malayalam historical literature, you must read Marthanda Varma by CV Raman Pillai.
It stands as a monumental milestone in Malayalam literature. Set in the eighteenth-century kingdom of Venad (Travancore), the narrative masterfully weaves factual history with romance and political intrigue to chronicle the perilous journey of Prince Marthanda Varma as he fights to claim his rightful throne.
The young prince faces deadly conspiracies from his ambitious cousins and a powerful faction of feudal lords known as the Ettuveetil Pillamar. However, with the aid of intensely loyal allies like the warrior Ananthapadmanabhan and the tragic heroine Subhadra, he navigates these complex betrayals and ultimately establishes the modern state of Travancore.
As the opening instalment of a celebrated historical trilogy, the book remains a masterclass in Indian storytelling, renowned for its rich language, complex characters, psychological depth and enduring influence on Malayalam theatre, cinema and cultural heritage.
Set in the stately, forest-clad hills of Malnad in the Western Ghats during the late nineteenth century, ‘Bride in the Hills’ tells the love stories of young men and women aspiring to a life of freedom, dignity and fulfilment in marriage within a caste-ridden social order. Kuppali Venkatappa Puttappa’s multi-centred text, with its organic weave of varied narrative strands, much like the Mahabharata, is epic in substance and style. The novel, rooted in the regional realities of Malnad, is yet another example of the diversity of modern Indian literature. It was translated by Vanamala Viswanatha.
Let’s step into the world of cinema through my bookshelf: Ten Classics of Indian Cinema by Anitaa Padhye. It is a rainbow of desi cinema. The author’s familiarity with the craft of filmmaking adds depth and colour to her perspective.
Interesting facts are explored: Why did Mughal-e-Azam take sixteen long years to be completed? Who was the mystery financier who invested his trust and money in it even though the delay sent its budget skyrocketing? How did Amitabh Bachchan bag the role of Dr Bhaskar Banerjee in Anand, even though Zanjeer, which established him as an actor to reckon with, was yet to be released?
From my Hindi literature lane, I want to add these classics to my bookshelf.
‘Kashi Ka Assi’ by Kashinath Singh is a satirical jewel. Through its portrayal of the rapidly changing social landscape of Varanasi (Kashi), the novel presents a tapestry of life in the holy city. Singh’s keen observations and vibrant characters provide insight into the complexities of modern Indian society, touching upon religion, politics and culture.
Set against the backdrop of the Partition of India, Tamas by Bhisham Sahni is a harrowing account of communal riots in Punjab. Through his vivid storytelling, Sahni captures the chaos, fear and humanity of a nation divided. Tamas is not just a novel; it is a sombre reminder of the horrors of communal violence.
A free bird, Mitro Marjani tells the story of Mitro, a spirited woman who challenges the constraints of marital life and societal norms in rural Punjab. Krishna Sobti’s bold narrative and unapologetic portrayal of female sexuality and desire make it a groundbreaking work in Hindi literature.
‘Maila Anchal’ is a novel that paints a vivid portrait of rural life in Bihar, exploring the socio-political dynamics and cultural ethos of the region. Phanishwar Nath Renu’s narrative is both authentic and evocative, offering a slice of life from the Indian heartland.
Tyagpatra is a profound novel that delves into the complexities of human relationships and societal norms. Jainendra Kumar’s introspective and psychological narrative challenges traditional values and examines the inner turmoil of its protagonist, making it a compelling study of the human psyche.
Set in a village in Uttar Pradesh, Raag Darbari is a satirical take on political corruption and bureaucratic malaise in post-independence India. Shrilal Shukla’s sharp wit and keen observations offer a humorous yet insightful commentary on the state of Indian society.
Nuzhat Khan’s novel ‘Whistling Woods’ is set against the backdrop of an ecological catastrophe in the Uttarakhand hills, my own place. It explores themes of love, loss and healing amidst a devastating forest fire.
These classics, each with its own story and themes, give us insight into the wide range of human experiences, feelings and social issues.
I hope these fourteen stories from my bookshelf find a special place with you, just as they have found one in my heart.
(Manju Kala is a Travel Photographer/Writer from Dehra Town.)
