The Gypsy Goddess (27 page)

Mayilai Balu's book
Ninru Kedutha Neethi
that exhaustively documents the judicial proceedings and the failings of the Kilvenmani story. Bharati Krishnakumar's documentary film
Ramayyavin Kudisai
that provides a reconstruction of the tragedy and lets survivors tell their own story. Tamil writer Appanasamy for guiding me towards textual sources, and for his splendid book
Thenparai Muthal Venmani Varai
that traces the history of feudal atrocities and resistance in the Tanjore district. Solai Sundara Perumal's novel
Sennel
and Pattali's novel
Keezhai Thee
– for skillfully maneuvering a long-ago massacre into the realm of fictional retelling. This novel owes a good deal to the back issues of
Janasakthi
,
Theekathir
,
Dalit Murasu
and
Thaaimann
, and the comrades who allowed me access to the wealth of information contained in those pages.

Researching for this book, I think in retrospect, was one of the ways in which I tried repeatedly to escape myself from the task of actually
writing
it. Yet, the research does put in an odd appearance here and there. The out-of-date devils in the first chapter owe their descriptions to Bulmer's research on demon worship in southern India published in 1894, the map at the beginning of the book is based on a limited-edition print from the Survey Office in Madras dating to 1905, the knowledge of the precise year of floods must be attributed to the Tanjore District Manuals authored by a Gazetteer named Hemingway. I don't want to show off any more. If anything, unlimited access to JSTOR (courtesy of Anna University) made me grapple with the fact that years of fighting and bloodshed could be flattened into three lines of class-warfare theory. I'm still getting my head around that.

This book belongs to the people of Kilvenmani. For making me their own. For the glass of water they offered every time I entered their homes. For asking nothing of me. For revisiting the most traumatic day in their memory. For having the belief that I will be true to their story. For their pride in standing by the red flag. For their faith in the idea of communism. For the enormous sacrifices they have made.

The many villages in Tanjore that I visited where the people treated me like the long-lost daughter that I think I
am. For the people who stopped work to answer my endless questions and buy me cups of tea. For the women who let me work alongside them and taught me how to transplant paddy. For the dark and handsome young men on the fields, who spontaneously serenaded me with the classic MGR song,
naan paarththadhile aval oruththiyaiththaan nalla azhagiyenben nalla azhagiyenben
… It is almost impossible to resist such charm. When one drastically sheds the comforts of an insulated existence, it is small pleasures like this that make the search for a story so worthwhile.

Note on the Author

Meena Kandasamy is a poet, fiction writer, translator and activist who is based in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. She has published two collections of poetry,
Touch
(2006) and
Ms. Militancy
(2010).
The Gypsy Goddess
is her first novel.