Home, Sparks and Splinters- Matchbox

Writing about Stories by Ashapurna Debi, Translated by Prasenjit Gupta

Two Debis ruled my literary preferences, amongst the women writers writing in Bengali- Ashapurna Debi, whom my mother admired and the other Mahashweta Debi- who my father loved. In fact my father was almost dismissive of Ashapurna Debi as someone lacking a serious line of discourse. Yes, she indeed appealed to women, for she wrote about the home and hearth, apparent trivial issues in family between women, conflicts and mundane. Mahashweta, baba (my father) found much more political. She was writing about caste and class, was writing stories about rural Adivasi women, bringing their saga to the forefront, strong feminist, leftist views. And mind you, I must be 12 or 13 then when I had finished reading Pratham Pratisruti, Bakul Katha and in fact had cherished the autograph my mother had secured from Ashapurna Debi in her college days. And I thought I lacked political understanding then. So reading Draupadi or about Titu Mir, often I found troublesome, unrelatable. Whereas, Ashapurna’s stories I could see playing all around me- within the house, between the people I know well. Of course I did not have the maturity to understand that what I am thinking is a strong political argument. Tilottatama Majumdar, Bani Basu, Suchitra Bhattacharya and other women writers came to my life a little later and by that time I have been exposed somewhat to discourses of feminism, but through western writings. I never looked back at Ashapurna, till a couple of months back when I came across this book- collection of short stories by Ashapurna Debi, translated by Prasenjit Gupta, titled matchbox.  I settled to read and found such strong political voice in the story. This of course comes to me at a time when I sort of understand the blurring line between personal and political. Feminism is against this heteronormative patriarchal system. And this starts at the home and the family. One cannot fight the battles outside without starting negotiating at home. And there comes the challenge.

The tittle story Matchbox is brilliant and in fact there in the last few lines, Ashapurna summarises with aplomb, which feminism movement has understood long back, but failed to address, failed to keep the anger contained-

“This – this is precisely why I compare women to matchboxes. Even when they have the means within themselves to set off many raging fires, they never flare up and burn away the mask of men’s highmindedness, their large-heartedness. They don’t burn up their own colourful shells. They won’t burn them – and the men know this too. That’s why they leave them scattered so carelessly in the kitchen, in the pantry, in the bedroom, here, there, anywhere. And quite without fear, they put them in their pockets”

In fact this is the catch, which perpetrates sexual division of labour, impedes property rights and many such things which forms the metrics of the broad level understanding of gender discrimination.

Matchbox or Deshlai Baksho is the story of Nomita, the rage, her potential to flare up in splinters like the matchbox, and then containing all of that, for that illusive social prestige of “happily married ever after”. Ajit’s Namita’s husband is often intrusive, hides her letters, disrespectful without knowing to the needs of her impoverished mother and family. Nomita, understands, is angry about all these, and however succumbs to her internal need of a better world, with a roof and family. And I think we know enough women like Nomita- who in reality have nothing to lose, but are fearful of a loss, which has so cleverly conditioned in them from the beginning.

Oishorjo or Wealth- the first story of the collection is an interesting one. In fact it is intriguing as well which shows the strength of a woman in a conjugal relationship.  She is aware of her husband’s philandering ways and nonchalant about it. In fact it’s her irreverence that causes much heartburn amongst the other women in the family, who are unable to sympathise on her great loss of wealth- love of her husband. Oporna is a remarkable character here- who knows that love of her husband often is a transactional relationship between a couple bound in a marriage. She had much more to herself, the aura, her self-respect. However, isn’t she too at a loss? This systemically created dignity also had come to her at a great personal sacrifice- but then every fight for self, calls for sacrifice doesn’t it?

Du-Shahoshik or Foolhardy, is a story which makes me think of who is the one who acts out this fool-hardiness, this act of bravery? Partho re-intrduces Otonu, again to his wife Sheema, who happened to me Otonu’s ex. However the triangle all want to defy their inner insecurities and try out a new act of bravery? Why is it? To become larger than themselves. When asked by Sheema, whether he ever feared losing out, Partho said “ If I’m afraid even now of losing to that boy, and I have to live always on my guard- it’s very much better to be defeated and die”..  And to me now this story becomes something more than just Partho’s act of bravery. In fact he was putting their fidelity and marriage on test. Was Sheema an approver of the act? No, but she did have her say and her voice as well.

Another of my favorites in Ponkhi Mohol or Bird Palace. No other story can bring out this interplay of emotions and anguish of one woman older in age, against the other now set to replace her in the finely crafted house of cards called patriarchy. The feuds would remain confined to these women, without both of them realizing that whoever wins, the loss is equal on both their parts.

Shok or Grief, one of the best in the collection.  Shoktipodo and Protibha, through their act of defying emotional urgency, delayers the facades of filial ties and responsibilities, showing the hollow fakeness lying within. The news of Pratibha’s mother’s demise was held up by Shoktipodo cleverly, since he didn’t want to get delayed for the first day of the month to office, He really wishes the news to play out at his convenience. And Protibha too holds up her exuberance without the absence of someone to share her grief. The selfish treachery of each other, almost known to one another, but still they play out their roles to the T- that’s what Samsaar is.. Maybe...

It’s needless to mention that I have come to love Mahashweta more, but credit also goes to her presence even in academia and subaltern studies. However, today I am surprised, why we never look back at Ashapurna Debi and bring her into feminist discussion circles… since writing about home for her meant also to offer home as the sanctuary and shelter as well as the cage for binding desires. And for different people, with interplay of emotions and power structures, home means to be different, patriarchal archetypes controlling the strings.