Speaking Tiger Books, New Delhi, 2016, 149 pages, INR. 350/-
Few stories stay with us long after the details of the narrative are momentarily forgotten. Myths generally do that; great myths are by definition supposed to achieve that. Easterine Kire’s latest novella, Son of the Thundercloud, is one of those rarities. A fascinating narrative in the mould of low fantasy, the book’s plot intriguingly blends Naga myth of creation with the redemption story of Christ to demonstrate new literary possibilities. It also represents a bold example of literary indigenisation of the Christian story; an enterprise that is expected to be palatable to contemporary Naga readership, and beyond.
At one level, the novella invites allegorical reading of the characters and village names as they embody haloed values. But to me, Kire’s book reads better as a timeless tale of hope narrated through myth and dialogue. C.S. Lewis in An Experiment in Criticism aptly pointed out the affective quality of a myth (great myth I suppose), ‘And after all the allegories have been tried, the myth itself continues to feel more important than they.’ Kire’s book has this quality that strongly resists allegorisation. It takes us into a timeless place of the myth of the son of the Thundercloud with the archetypal hero-traveller, Pele, on an undisclosed quest. The story ends with a poignant counter-narrative to the threats of mortality, and all that is evil. There is a closure to the tale, but Pele’s journey does not end there. And as he has become part of the tale, the myth continues. It seems to me that the tendency to read Thundercloud allegorically issues in no small part from Kire’s dramatising of the cultural practice of naming in the Angami Naga society. But to read Thundercloud as mere allegory is to restrict the range of meanings the story offers as a myth.
The title of the book is a curious one as well. From it one would be led to think that the story is about the son of the Thundercloud, Rhalietuo. It is in a way. He is the protagonist of the tale. But is he of the book? The eponymous title gets deflected somewhat as the focus zooms on Pele in the Blurb. And starting with the Prologue, one gets the sense that the story is going to be about the ‘little one’ - Pelevotso, a name given by a prophetic grandmother. She envisioned greatness for her grandson. And as adventure is a stock requirement for greatness, the subsequent famine in the land becomes an opportunity for Pele to travel and live his name - faithful to the end.
Structurally, it is fair to say Pele is the protagonist of the book. It is his quest. He permeates the narrative from start to finish, preceding and outliving in the course the physical son of the Thundercloud. The entire story is framed through the lens of his experience. The regeneration of the land too begins with his arrival in the abandoned village. It is he who brings the rain that hydrates the parched land, and from this event the miraculous Son is conceived. In a certain sense, Pele symbolises virility. He plays a supporting (decisive) role in the fulfilment of the prophecy concerning the Thundercloud’s son. But he is who the reader follows; not Rhalie. He partakes in the reenactment of the tale and comes out of it as the central figure of the book.
In contrast, the Son’s role is limited. He is unlike Pele. He is unlike anyone else in the book. His conception is miraculous; so is his birth. His miraculous origin qualifies him for the predestined task, but he lacks agency. When he slays the spirit-tiger, he does it with passivity - the beast leaps onto his upright spear. And as Pele’s transformation happened before the slaying of the spirit-tiger, or the ‘sacrifice’ of the Son, the purpose of Rhalie’s birth assumes a somewhat reduced proportion. The intended moral/physical effect of Rhalie’s action - killing of the spirit-tiger - is unaccounted in the story. In fact, he is murdered by his jealous friends for exactly that reason. Killing the dreaded beast had not liberated anyone in the spiritual sense, instead it further stoked hatred. This makes the story the story of Christ. While Christ’s death on the cross defeated the power of death and made the redemption of mankind possible, Rhalie’s death came after the conquest of the supposed enslaver of the villagers, the spirit-tiger. His death at the hands of his ‘friends’ appears unnecessary as such.
The book also presents the possibility of two parallel worlds: that of Pele’s and the tale’s. Pele and the famine are common to both. And though Pele’s crossing over of worlds is not specifically mentioned in the narrative, the fantastic elements in the world of the tale is unlike anything he has encountered before. They assume mythic proportions. In this world a famine can last seven hundred years on end without wiping out the entire inhabitants; trees and plants can reach their full heights overnight, etc. Except for the ceramic mug instance (p.119), we get the distinct sense that the agrarian setting of the book is of a time far removed from Pele’s own (and our own). The image of the land before the rain is a dystopic prophecy (T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Wasteland’ springs to mind). It functions as a cautionary portraiture of the future as well as the prop against which the recreated myth unfolds. The past, present, and future are merged to give a timeless, and hence mythic, dimension to the narrative.
The entire book can be read in one sitting. And despite the narrative’s tendency of slipping into didactic mode occasionally - this is probably intentional given Kire’s penchant for drawing from Naga oral tradition, where instructions are always combined with stories - the gripping narrative in fine unadulterated prose compensates for such minor ‘intrusions’. Even the narratorial oversight in Mesanuo’s special privilege in greenery and plenty - a luxury denied to her older siblings in the next village - does not detract the reader from the story.
marks Kire’s evolution as a story-teller who is unafraid to recreate myths drawing from sources other than Naga, while giving it local colour. It is unlike any of the other works she has produced. With this work, Kire has added a new literary dimension to her repertoire. And Naga literature in English stands to gain much by it.
