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Antharjanam: Memoirs of a Namboodiri Woman
Ending the silence of centuries comes this startling the first full-length account of a Namboodiri woman's life describing a world long gone. Told without a trace of self-pity, Devaki Nilayamgode's work is a remarkable achievement in the domain of personal and social history.
The memoirs unfold a variety of experiences that range from changing agricultural practices and esoteric medical ones like indigenous systems of anti-snake-venom treatment to the gradual erosion of the community's wealth and unquestioned social power. With time, the winds of change brought radical ideas into these dim interiors. While J. Devika's detailed Introduction contextualizes the great changes the author describes, the many evocative illustrations by one of Kerala's most famous artists transport us into the Namboodiri woman's world.
The memoirs unfold a variety of experiences that range from changing agricultural practices and esoteric medical ones like indigenous systems of anti-snake-venom treatment to the gradual erosion of the community's wealth and unquestioned social power. With time, the winds of change brought radical ideas into these dim interiors. While J. Devika's detailed Introduction contextualizes the great changes the author describes, the many evocative illustrations by one of Kerala's most famous artists transport us into the Namboodiri woman's world.
169 pages, Paperback
First published September 15, 2011
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About the author
Devaki Nilayangode
6 books7 followersDevaki Nilayangode became a writer at the age of 75 with an autobiographical volume titled 'Nashtabodhangalillathe'. This work along with her subsequent titles act as windows into the social life, especially that of the Namboodiri community in central Kerala during the 30s and 40s.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
September 20, 2014
"Antharjanam" literally means one who lives inside the house, and this was the term used to describe the Namboodiri Brahmin women of Kerala. Despite being born into wealthy upper-caste families, their lives were subject to many difficulties, thanks to the extremely rigid caste and gender rules. Socio-cultural norms dictated the state of these women. They were not to be educated, they were not to be seen or heard by outsiders; they were not to talk to men unrelated to them. In those darker days, only the eldest son was allowed to marry within the same caste, in order to preserve wealth within the same family. As a result of this custom, many Namboodiri girls (often as young as twelve or thirteen) were forced to marry much older men,some of whom were on their deathbeds. Hence the number of young Namboodiri widows was quite high. Their condition was extremely deplorable. Shunned from society, they were often seen as symbols of inauspiciousness, and forbidden from attending weddings or other social rituals.
This immensely readable memoir by Devaki Nilayamgode poignantly describes those days. What I liked the best was that it was told without the slightest trace of self-pity, although Devaki herself was subject to many of these absurd practices. She lucidly narrates the story of her childhood , growing up in a conservative illam in central Kerala. As a young girl, her orthodox mother encouraged her to read about the chaste and demure Sheelavathi but by then the winds of change had already reached Kerala, and Devaki found herself drawn instead to the story of the brave Unniyarcha, the warrior princess of Malabar. She describes the sadness she felt when witnessing how the servants were forced to eat off banana leaves that had already been used by the upper caste women. She wonders how different her cousins were from her, in their sophisticated clothing and manners, having been born to a Nair mother instead. There is also a mention of the (in)famous smarthavicharam or trial of Thathri, and it is this story that highlights the many social ills and injustices of that era. Devaki writes about the Namboodiri Yoga Kshema Sabha, and its efforts in reforming the community. Being a member of the sabha herself, she along with Arya Pallom and Parvati Nenminimangalam, fought for many reforms, including widow remarriages and education for women.
The book is translated from the Malayalam by Indira Menon and Radhika Menon, and whilst I do think they did a really good job, there were parts of the book that didn't flow too well. Lost in translation, I suppose?
Nonetheless, this is an important book because it makes us realize how far we have reached, compared to those days. Read it to understand the complex and intricate socio-cultural norms of the past, and how it was used as an excuse to impose abominable practices upon women and the so-called lower castes. Read it because it will help you appreciate the present much better. Read it because it will help you realize, quite chillingly, that although we have progressed with modern technology and education and what not, there are some aspects that are still the same. For example, Devaki writes about her birth:
In those days birth of a girl in illams was not considered auspicious. As soon as a woman became pregnant, there were special poojas for a baby boy. If the child was a boy,the servants ululated and announced the happy event. If it was a girl, they conveyed the news with soft knocks on the door and muted whispers. I was born on Thiruvonam day in the month of Idavam. There were no joyous shouts that day, only soft knocks on doors.
Devaki was born in 1928.
I think of the many couples, queuing outside clinics in bustling cities as well as smaller towns of today's India. Many of them are educated and seem rather well-to-do, and yet they have queued up to ask doctors determine the gender of their unborn children. There are jubilant smiles if the child is a boy, but if it happens to be a girl, there is a quiet sense of disappointment.
86 years have passed since Devaki's birth, and I wonder whether things have really changed.
This immensely readable memoir by Devaki Nilayamgode poignantly describes those days. What I liked the best was that it was told without the slightest trace of self-pity, although Devaki herself was subject to many of these absurd practices. She lucidly narrates the story of her childhood , growing up in a conservative illam in central Kerala. As a young girl, her orthodox mother encouraged her to read about the chaste and demure Sheelavathi but by then the winds of change had already reached Kerala, and Devaki found herself drawn instead to the story of the brave Unniyarcha, the warrior princess of Malabar. She describes the sadness she felt when witnessing how the servants were forced to eat off banana leaves that had already been used by the upper caste women. She wonders how different her cousins were from her, in their sophisticated clothing and manners, having been born to a Nair mother instead. There is also a mention of the (in)famous smarthavicharam or trial of Thathri, and it is this story that highlights the many social ills and injustices of that era. Devaki writes about the Namboodiri Yoga Kshema Sabha, and its efforts in reforming the community. Being a member of the sabha herself, she along with Arya Pallom and Parvati Nenminimangalam, fought for many reforms, including widow remarriages and education for women.
The book is translated from the Malayalam by Indira Menon and Radhika Menon, and whilst I do think they did a really good job, there were parts of the book that didn't flow too well. Lost in translation, I suppose?
Nonetheless, this is an important book because it makes us realize how far we have reached, compared to those days. Read it to understand the complex and intricate socio-cultural norms of the past, and how it was used as an excuse to impose abominable practices upon women and the so-called lower castes. Read it because it will help you appreciate the present much better. Read it because it will help you realize, quite chillingly, that although we have progressed with modern technology and education and what not, there are some aspects that are still the same. For example, Devaki writes about her birth:
In those days birth of a girl in illams was not considered auspicious. As soon as a woman became pregnant, there were special poojas for a baby boy. If the child was a boy,the servants ululated and announced the happy event. If it was a girl, they conveyed the news with soft knocks on the door and muted whispers. I was born on Thiruvonam day in the month of Idavam. There were no joyous shouts that day, only soft knocks on doors.
Devaki was born in 1928.
I think of the many couples, queuing outside clinics in bustling cities as well as smaller towns of today's India. Many of them are educated and seem rather well-to-do, and yet they have queued up to ask doctors determine the gender of their unborn children. There are jubilant smiles if the child is a boy, but if it happens to be a girl, there is a quiet sense of disappointment.
86 years have passed since Devaki's birth, and I wonder whether things have really changed.
December 7, 2024
As a North Indian born in the late 1970s, I always believed that women in North India had a far worse social status than their counterparts in the South. Devaki Nilayangode's Antharjanam was an eye-opener. This memoir, written by a Namboothiri woman in her 70s, recounts her life in early decades of 20th century as an Antharjanam—literally "inner people"—in the cloistered world of a Namboothiri Illam (household).
The rigid rules of caste and gender that governed women’s lives were shocking to learn about. Even in families that were wealthy and learned, women endured deprivation—of adequate food, clothing, and even basic hygiene. The stark contrast between the material poverty of women and the social prestige of their families is striking.
The book is deeply readable and remarkable for its lack of judgment. Devaki Nilayangode narrates her experiences in a factual yet poignant manner, leaving readers to reflect on the injustices of the system. It’s a powerful memoir that sheds light on a world few outside it could imagine.
The rigid rules of caste and gender that governed women’s lives were shocking to learn about. Even in families that were wealthy and learned, women endured deprivation—of adequate food, clothing, and even basic hygiene. The stark contrast between the material poverty of women and the social prestige of their families is striking.
The book is deeply readable and remarkable for its lack of judgment. Devaki Nilayangode narrates her experiences in a factual yet poignant manner, leaving readers to reflect on the injustices of the system. It’s a powerful memoir that sheds light on a world few outside it could imagine.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 4, 2012
The book is an English translation(by Radhika Menon and Indira Menon) of a Malayam book written by Devaki Nilayamgode, a 75 year old Namboodiri woman. She recounts the life of a Namboodiri woman from childhood. Namboodiri women are called, ‘Antharjanam’, which literally means, ‘People who live inside’. After the age of 6 or 7, Namboodiri women are confined indoors, and not seen even by their own fathers or brothers. Those days, it was common for only the oldest son in a family to marry within their caste. The other sons would do a ‘Sambhandam’ with Nair women, and the Nair women and their children would continue to live in their house and not in the Namboodiri illam. It was common for the eldest sons to practice polygamy for various reasons. There were instances where a man on his death-bed would marry a teenager. Illams traditionally would have unmarried girls, married women and widows of the Namboodiris.
The author recounts her own childhood in a prosperous illam. She grew up in a prosperous illam, and yet her childhood felt almost inhuman. The hierarchy is clear right from the beginning of life. A girl child was never welcomed with happiness. She talks about how they did not even have a comb to brush their hair. Nobody cared about such things. She talks about how her mother never encouraged her or her sisters to have any sort of freedom, as that would not bode well for a life where they would have to live under the shadow of others. Rituals, traditions and rules, made their lives. Some of the things she describes are heart-breaking. Namboodiris could get polluted by getting touched by other castes. During deliveries, Nair women would be attending to the Namboodiri women, so after the delivery, the first thing the poor women had to do was go and have a bath in the pond, to purify themselves. Already weakened by the delivery, they had to make their way to the pond, have a bath before they could be rest at all. As Nilayamgode mentions, nobody spared a thought that often the water would be muddy during the monsoon, and having a bath in that condition might attract infection in the already weak women. Traditions were the most important thing, so had to be followed.
The plight of the widows were particularly sad. They had to pay for the crime of having outlived their husbands throughout their lives. Nilyamgode’s mother was a widow, the third wife of a Namboodiri, but she was respected for her abilities, so she had a slightly better life. Education was practically non-existent for women. Devaki learnt how to read and write, and that was about it. Her sisters started reading books that their brother would slyly pass to them, and that was their only source of reading. It was only when they came in touch with their sophisticated Nair cousins that they realised how different their lives were. The Nair girls would be well-groomed, well looked after, and would even treat the little Namboodiri children with affection – something they never got from their mothers or fathers. She recounts how they would give them pieces of soap, which was treasured and used sparingly to make it last longer.
Fortunately for Devaki, the family that she married it was very liberal and socially progressive. By that time, social reforms and movements had begun. They were focussing on educating women, widow re-marriage, encouraging the other sons of households to marry within their caste.
Nilayamgode writes about how her book will be the last of it’s kind, because change has ensured that there are no longer problems that are restricted just to the Antharjanams. That life today is so much better than it had been a few decades ago. The book brings to focus how much of change has happened, and how change can happen when communities decide for themselves that things have to change – when the change happens from within. Most of the change that happened in the Namboodiri community was because people themselves realized that things have to change in their society. When the society convinced their widowed sisters to remarry, educated their daughters, and encouraged their wives to take control.
I though I was shocked because I grew up in a different time. My mother started reading this book, last week, when she was here, and she was as shocked as me. She had an inkling about the lives of the Antharjanams but had no idea how different it was. My grandmother would have been 86 or 86 now had she been alive today, so around 10 years or so older than Devaki Nilayamgode. They would have grown up in villages quite near by, in families of similar financial capabilities and yet Ammamma(and her sisters) was an educated, empowered lady. So much of variation in lifestyle just because they belonged to different castes.
Isn’t it wonderful how time and progress has brought it to a point where today, everything else being equal, there would be no difference between me and a Namboodiri girl?
A wonderful book. A must read.
The author recounts her own childhood in a prosperous illam. She grew up in a prosperous illam, and yet her childhood felt almost inhuman. The hierarchy is clear right from the beginning of life. A girl child was never welcomed with happiness. She talks about how they did not even have a comb to brush their hair. Nobody cared about such things. She talks about how her mother never encouraged her or her sisters to have any sort of freedom, as that would not bode well for a life where they would have to live under the shadow of others. Rituals, traditions and rules, made their lives. Some of the things she describes are heart-breaking. Namboodiris could get polluted by getting touched by other castes. During deliveries, Nair women would be attending to the Namboodiri women, so after the delivery, the first thing the poor women had to do was go and have a bath in the pond, to purify themselves. Already weakened by the delivery, they had to make their way to the pond, have a bath before they could be rest at all. As Nilayamgode mentions, nobody spared a thought that often the water would be muddy during the monsoon, and having a bath in that condition might attract infection in the already weak women. Traditions were the most important thing, so had to be followed.
The plight of the widows were particularly sad. They had to pay for the crime of having outlived their husbands throughout their lives. Nilyamgode’s mother was a widow, the third wife of a Namboodiri, but she was respected for her abilities, so she had a slightly better life. Education was practically non-existent for women. Devaki learnt how to read and write, and that was about it. Her sisters started reading books that their brother would slyly pass to them, and that was their only source of reading. It was only when they came in touch with their sophisticated Nair cousins that they realised how different their lives were. The Nair girls would be well-groomed, well looked after, and would even treat the little Namboodiri children with affection – something they never got from their mothers or fathers. She recounts how they would give them pieces of soap, which was treasured and used sparingly to make it last longer.
Fortunately for Devaki, the family that she married it was very liberal and socially progressive. By that time, social reforms and movements had begun. They were focussing on educating women, widow re-marriage, encouraging the other sons of households to marry within their caste.
Nilayamgode writes about how her book will be the last of it’s kind, because change has ensured that there are no longer problems that are restricted just to the Antharjanams. That life today is so much better than it had been a few decades ago. The book brings to focus how much of change has happened, and how change can happen when communities decide for themselves that things have to change – when the change happens from within. Most of the change that happened in the Namboodiri community was because people themselves realized that things have to change in their society. When the society convinced their widowed sisters to remarry, educated their daughters, and encouraged their wives to take control.
I though I was shocked because I grew up in a different time. My mother started reading this book, last week, when she was here, and she was as shocked as me. She had an inkling about the lives of the Antharjanams but had no idea how different it was. My grandmother would have been 86 or 86 now had she been alive today, so around 10 years or so older than Devaki Nilayamgode. They would have grown up in villages quite near by, in families of similar financial capabilities and yet Ammamma(and her sisters) was an educated, empowered lady. So much of variation in lifestyle just because they belonged to different castes.
Isn’t it wonderful how time and progress has brought it to a point where today, everything else being equal, there would be no difference between me and a Namboodiri girl?
A wonderful book. A must read.
March 3, 2014
It is pure coincidence that I started reading this book right after V.K Madhavan Kutty's 'The Village Before Time' Though both stories (or rather autobiographical accounts of the respective authors) takes one on a trip back to life back in the 1930s upto the 1950s, there was something about the 'Antharjanam' that struck a chord.
It might be the women centric perspective of the author or the excellent translation that has been done by the two translators, that has done the job of charming the reader. Though this book came to me ages back, it came to my notice only few weeks back.
Since I read two books on the same theme consecutively, it did create a confusion of stories and characters. Hence, this book is a book that I would read again some other time.
Today, as I finished this book, I thought about the song that has been going viral online for the past few days - The song that the 'pennungal'(women) from Mahi (Kerala) created. A sharp contrast to the 'pennungal' or antharjanams that I saw in the book: Antharjanam: Memoirs of A Namboodiri Woman.
As the author, Devaki Nilayamgode, puts it simply: "I can emphatically state that life today is better than ever before."
It might be the women centric perspective of the author or the excellent translation that has been done by the two translators, that has done the job of charming the reader. Though this book came to me ages back, it came to my notice only few weeks back.
Since I read two books on the same theme consecutively, it did create a confusion of stories and characters. Hence, this book is a book that I would read again some other time.
Today, as I finished this book, I thought about the song that has been going viral online for the past few days - The song that the 'pennungal'(women) from Mahi (Kerala) created. A sharp contrast to the 'pennungal' or antharjanams that I saw in the book: Antharjanam: Memoirs of A Namboodiri Woman.
As the author, Devaki Nilayamgode, puts it simply: "I can emphatically state that life today is better than ever before."
September 15, 2017
Antharjanam is the erudite and no nonsense memoir from Devaki Nilayamgode, an Antharjanam herself, which has been competently translated into English by Radhika Menon and Indira Menon. More a collection of her separate essays/articles on her life inside her ‘illam’ or ancestral home and of the lives of other women like her, it has been relatively seamlessly adapted into one volume so that the reading experience does feel like an almost chronological foray into her life.
An ‘Antharjanam’ was the term used to describe the Namboodiri Brahmin women of Kerala, and literally translates to ‘someone who lives inside’, which is pretty much what most of their lives entailed. Lives of the Namboodiri community has changed now of course, but back in the early part of the twentieth century, the weight of tradition and customs pressed down hard upon these women’s lives. From the outside it may seem like their lives were one of pampered luxury and indulgence, but as Devaki Nilayamgode elucidates here, things were far from rosy a lot of the time. The worst of it was the virtual giving up of their freedom of choice to the lifestyle imposed on them from early childhood by a patriarchal culture which was slow in coming to grips with the evolving social landscape.
For eg. The account of how a woman who just gave birth, because she came into contact with impure persons while delivering, had to go to the pond and back on her own despite her weakened condition and threat of infection (from the muddy water) before even being allowed to have water. Or the account of how the Namboodiri men, beyond a point didn’t really care about their womenfolk if any issues caused them to leave their ancestral homes, and how at times very old Namboodiri’s were married to teenage girls (who in turn could get widowed very soon and live out the rest of their lives as unfortunate widows). Antharjanam’s were expected to adhere to strict codes of dress, and the account of how the women watched the Nair women who came to their home sometimes and who were well dressed and relatively fashionable in appearance is poignantly done. In between all this, there are some detailed descriptions of various facets of their lives, like the harvest process and their method of preparation of some of their dishes. The erudition here is commendable, though these sections do tend to drag at times.
The winds of change were slowly enveloping the community though, and young men and women of some Namboodiri households were already joining leftist movements and other movements to improve the lot of their community and bring it out of the dark ages. There are accounts here of the Yoga Kshema Sabha activities and Devaki’s participation later on in some of them, along with some of their members like Arya Pallom and ParvatiNenminimangalam. Through groups such as these, various reforms were brought about to try and help the women, like their education and allowing widows to remarry. Luckily for Devaki Nilayamgode, the family to which she was married off to was progressive enough to allow her a view into these new worlds. By contrast, her mother (probably due to a life of institutionalization) was averse to such reforms and activities for women.
For all this though, the author has to be commended for providing an unsentimental account of life rather than play for melodrama. The account is straightforward and does focus on some of the good things of the Namboodiri life too, like the provision of food and housing for various outsiders who had no other place to go. The translators have also done a good job of trying to get the essence of the Malayalee life into English, never an easy task.
The only reason I would not rate it higher is because of some cumbersome sections and the loss of flow between certain chapters, probably expected considering it is a collection of articles joined together by two different translators. But this really should not deter readers though. For the Malayalee, it is a deeper look into a world they may have seen in periphery, while for the outsider it is a fascinating and detailed portrait into a community now thankfully moved on.
If anything, it reinforces my belief that despite some good intentions, religion ultimately results in dogma imposed by the powerful onto others, and its place in current times is probably an anachronism that should be diluted out.
An ‘Antharjanam’ was the term used to describe the Namboodiri Brahmin women of Kerala, and literally translates to ‘someone who lives inside’, which is pretty much what most of their lives entailed. Lives of the Namboodiri community has changed now of course, but back in the early part of the twentieth century, the weight of tradition and customs pressed down hard upon these women’s lives. From the outside it may seem like their lives were one of pampered luxury and indulgence, but as Devaki Nilayamgode elucidates here, things were far from rosy a lot of the time. The worst of it was the virtual giving up of their freedom of choice to the lifestyle imposed on them from early childhood by a patriarchal culture which was slow in coming to grips with the evolving social landscape.
For eg. The account of how a woman who just gave birth, because she came into contact with impure persons while delivering, had to go to the pond and back on her own despite her weakened condition and threat of infection (from the muddy water) before even being allowed to have water. Or the account of how the Namboodiri men, beyond a point didn’t really care about their womenfolk if any issues caused them to leave their ancestral homes, and how at times very old Namboodiri’s were married to teenage girls (who in turn could get widowed very soon and live out the rest of their lives as unfortunate widows). Antharjanam’s were expected to adhere to strict codes of dress, and the account of how the women watched the Nair women who came to their home sometimes and who were well dressed and relatively fashionable in appearance is poignantly done. In between all this, there are some detailed descriptions of various facets of their lives, like the harvest process and their method of preparation of some of their dishes. The erudition here is commendable, though these sections do tend to drag at times.
The winds of change were slowly enveloping the community though, and young men and women of some Namboodiri households were already joining leftist movements and other movements to improve the lot of their community and bring it out of the dark ages. There are accounts here of the Yoga Kshema Sabha activities and Devaki’s participation later on in some of them, along with some of their members like Arya Pallom and ParvatiNenminimangalam. Through groups such as these, various reforms were brought about to try and help the women, like their education and allowing widows to remarry. Luckily for Devaki Nilayamgode, the family to which she was married off to was progressive enough to allow her a view into these new worlds. By contrast, her mother (probably due to a life of institutionalization) was averse to such reforms and activities for women.
For all this though, the author has to be commended for providing an unsentimental account of life rather than play for melodrama. The account is straightforward and does focus on some of the good things of the Namboodiri life too, like the provision of food and housing for various outsiders who had no other place to go. The translators have also done a good job of trying to get the essence of the Malayalee life into English, never an easy task.
The only reason I would not rate it higher is because of some cumbersome sections and the loss of flow between certain chapters, probably expected considering it is a collection of articles joined together by two different translators. But this really should not deter readers though. For the Malayalee, it is a deeper look into a world they may have seen in periphery, while for the outsider it is a fascinating and detailed portrait into a community now thankfully moved on.
If anything, it reinforces my belief that despite some good intentions, religion ultimately results in dogma imposed by the powerful onto others, and its place in current times is probably an anachronism that should be diluted out.
July 31, 2022
An Honest and calm narrative by a woman who wanted to see a change in her community. The best part is her not being judgemental anywhere!
The translators have done a fantastic job by keeping the author's tenor intact; albeit, the subject being sensitive opportunities are aplenty to editorialize!
This would be an enriching read for those interested in history, culture and gender studies.
The translators have done a fantastic job by keeping the author's tenor intact; albeit, the subject being sensitive opportunities are aplenty to editorialize!
This would be an enriching read for those interested in history, culture and gender studies.
December 14, 2018
A very informative and thought-provoking book. It gives a deep insight into the lives in illams almost a century back.
January 10, 2021
A must read for those who love history of traditions.
May 30, 2019
Antharjanam is decent album trying to encapsulate life of a Namboodri Brahmin women and folks. Being a translated piece of literature, may have missed on the minuteness of the socio-cultural fabric. Had great expectations on the facts, surprises and other mesmerizing anecdotes.
Overall a decent read.
Overall a decent read.
November 16, 2013
This is a great read, not just because it is a fairly lucid, well-organized diary, but also because it is able to see (and say) the various ways in which women were controlled and made helpless, and how this oppression perpetuated itself through a set of customs and traditions in the last century. This is a part of India's recent history and a must-read for... well, everyone.
March 22, 2016
Brilliant "Memoir Genre" which is lucid and brutally honest of the atrocities faced by women in Pre Independence era. Though this is a translation from the Malayalam version it is still "grandmotherly" like in narration.
March 9, 2014
This book shows the other side of Antharjanam.Simple narration,lucid style
makes it an easy read.The culturally obnoxious system told without out any regret or activism in mind.
makes it an easy read.The culturally obnoxious system told without out any regret or activism in mind.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews