July 6, 1998
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Death and
the Maiden Ajeet Cour's
autobiography is a searingly honest account of
PEBBLES IN A TIN DRUM Readers of Punjabi literature and participants in literary seminars -- particularly regarding the 1984 holocaust -- will be familiar with Ajeet Cour's unique style. Pebbles in a Tin Drum is the first volume of her autobiography. It retains her characteristic flair for an intimate interlocution with the reader. The author is a famed story writer and that makes the reading of her autobiography somewhat confounding. It is a task to extricate the truth from its fictional dimensions, notably when she chronicles her love affairs. Following a failed marriage, she had her share of frustrating emotional relationships. She also experienced Partition. Aptly, it is the narration of a personal tragedy that captivates the reader. Ajeet Cour lost a bright, young daughter in a fire accident in France. Garbled telephonic messages made her fly to Lyon -- to strangers, callous hospital rules and a language she did not understand. Recalling the tragedy must have been painful: "Each time I look back, I can see an extremely beautiful young girl who looks like a flaming torch rushing down two flights of stairs. It is a living fire sweeping down the stairs. I feel the unbearable heat of the fire not only on my clothes but also on the flesh of my body and it is as though it is I who is going down those stairs enveloped in flames ... "Every time I look back in time I see a whirlwind of red hot fire whose flames leap out of my feet and reach right up to my head. I want to go on dialling number 101. When you dial this number, people from the fire brigade come down to douse the flames. Mentally, I dial this number at least 50 times every day." The daughter had gone abroad to study but fate incinerated her as she made tea for her friend. She was alone. The boyfriend whom she loved so dearly had gone to fetch some snacks. A strictly disciplined French hospital would prevent the mother from sitting beside her daughter. The administration was remote. The mother could contact it only by phone and that too through a French-speaking intermediary. The dying girl's boyfriend also loved her dearly. His implorations would get the window opened: "A nurse appeared, looking irritated. She came and stood across the window. Pointing towards me, Kajjan pleaded with her in French. She answered more angrily than before and shut the window. 'Why was she so angry?' I asked. 'She said today is Friday, the visitors' day, and visiting time is three to five, so why were we pestering her since morning,' Kajjan answered." The painful days and sleepless nights were to end: "The window finally opened. The doctor shook his head in a helpless manner. 'What?' I screamed. He spoke to Kajjan and Kajjan turned to me and told me that Candy had passed away five minutes ago ... They brought Candy out from the inner room on a stretcher. She was sleeping peacefully. I kissed her on the forehead and the lips ... As I looked at her it did not appear like a last meeting. It seemed a temporary parting, like the one at Delhi airport." The narration certainly moves the reader. In the chapters that follow are bizarre tales of love and betrayal. Written persuasively -- and translated with merit by Masooma Ali -- this book is recommended for those interested in understanding the social ethos of a middle-class Punjabi family.
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By I K
Gujral
