The Dead Fish

by Rajkamal Choudhary, Mahua Sen (Translator)

Machhali Mari Hui , Rajkamal Choudhary’s seminal masterpiece of Hindi literature, is a fearless anatomy of sexual orientation, identity and emotional tumult set in mid-20th-century Kolkata.
Translated into English for the first time as The Dead Fish, the novel explores the psychological depths of Nirmal Padmavat, a ruthless businessman whose personal life is marked by emotional volatility and contradictory sexuality. His complex relationships—particularly with Shirin, Priya and his beloved Kalyani—reveal a disturbing and fragmented self, crushed between deification and confusion, longing and detachment.
Rajkamal firmly brings homosexuality to the forefront, a bold move for his time. Priya and Shirin, both queer, form part of a muddled psychological and emotional nexus that overwhelms Nirmal’s inner world. He is likened to Goethe’s Mephisto, Shakespeare’s Othello and Brontë’s Heathcliff for his bestiality. Nirmal’s violation of Kalyani’s daughter, Priya, reinforces his own confused identity and his ineptitude of connecting with women in a healthy manner.
The metaphor of the dead fish echoes throughout and evokes themes of barrenness, enmeshment and unfulfilled desires. Through lyrical prose and skilfully embroidered subplots, coupled with an unconventional and experimental writing style, Rajkamal Choudhary critiques hostile societal norms and reveals the intense struggles associated with queer identity.
In an era when homosexuality is striving for rightful recognition within the social fabric, The Dead Fish feels more urgent and relevant now than ever before.
‘Mahua Sen’s first-ever translation of this controversial Hindi novel is laudable for its accomplishednarrative, and also for setting a new direction for gender studies.’
—Malashri Lal
Author, Critic and Former Professor of English, University of Delhi
‘The success of Mahua Sen’s translation lies in finding a middle way between a tiresomely faithful and beautiful rendition of the text. Those who have read Rajkamal in the original will appreciate this.’
—Anamika
Poet, Social Worker, Novelist
‘Translated into English for the first time by Mahua Sen, The Dead Fish approximates the original Hindi text in every department. It is an eminently readable translation, faithful and flawless.’
—Arun Kamal
Hindi Poet and Critic

Genres: Indian Literature, Novels

194 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Rajkamal Choudhary (1929–1967) (also spelled Rajkamal Chaudhary or Rajkamal Chaudhari ) was an Indian poet, short story writer, novelist, critic and thinker in Maithili, Hindi and Bengali languages. He was known as "a bold leader of new poetry" and writer who "stands out differently" from most other experimentalists.

Reviews

[a_geminireader]

"The Dead Fish" by Rajkamal Choudhary, in Mahua Sen's translation, is a book that just hits differently. It's not a comfortable read, but it's one of those stories that burrows deep and stays with you long after you've finished. It's a raw look at what it means to be human, with all the messiness of loneliness, desire, and the way society can crush you.

The story follows Nirmal Padmavat, a man who builds a whole life for himself but still feels like he's missing something fundamental. You get to see his journey and how he interacts with the women in his life—Priya, Shirin, and Kalyani. These relationships are complex and often painful, showing how he struggles to connect and find a sense of peace. The book doesn't shy away from showing the darker side of things, especially the casual brutality and the suffocating weight of patriarchy. It's a tough read at times, but it feels so honest.

I was completely absorbed by it. The way the story jumps between past and present pulls you into the characters' inner worlds, making you feel their turmoil and their desperation. You might find yourself rooting for some characters and feeling a real sense of anger at others for how they treat each other.
The title itself, "The Dead Fish," is a powerful metaphor that runs through the whole book. It captures this feeling of being trapped and unable to move forward, of desires that are left unfulfilled.

This isn't a book you'd pick up for a light escape. It's a deep, challenging read that forces you to confront some big questions about society, how we treat each other, and the lasting impact of our actions. But if you're up for it, it's an incredibly rewarding experience. It's a story that feels both timeless and deeply relevant, and I'm so glad I read it.

[Deepanshi]

Some books don’t just tell a story, they unsettle you, stir something unnamed inside you, and The Dead Fish did exactly that for me. At first, I thought I was simply entering the life of Nirmal Padmavat, a businessman with shades of moral greyness. But soon enough, I realized this wasn’t just his story~ it was about longings, missed chances, and the wreckage people carry within.

Kalyani is unforgettable. When Nirmal first met her in London, she seemed fearless, untamed, a woman living outside the boundaries society had drawn for her. Yet beneath her wild, free surface lay a storm. Anger, loneliness, financial struggles, a deep hunger for love that the world denied her. Nirmal wanted her, perhaps even loved her, but his own hesitations and lack of courage made him lose her forever. That failure clings to him, haunting everything that follows.

Years later, when he returns as the owner of Kalyani Towers and finds himself in the company of Kalyani’s husband and daughter, everything feels tangled and strange. He has a wife, Shirin, yet there is a void in him that nothing fills. What surprised me most, and honestly moved me deeply, was how the novel so boldly touches upon homosexuality and LGBTQ themes, written in the 1950s, long before such subjects could find any open space in our literature.

I have to pause here and commend Mahua Sen. Her translation doesn’t just bring Choudhary’s words to English- it makes the emotions, the silences, the quiet storms alive. The text feels both timeless and radical, carrying the beauty of Indian literary tradition while refusing to look away from the darker, forbidden truths of human life.

Reading The Dead Fish left me with an ache. It reminded me how barren human relationships can sometimes be, even when they appear full of charm and vitality. And yet, in that barrenness lies an honesty that makes this novel unforgettable.

[Aishwaria Nair aka _bookstash_]

~ Originally published in the 1960s as “Machli mari hui”, “The Dead Fish” is one of those books that shows how ahead of his time Rajkamal Choudhary really was!

~ This slim novel speaks to today’s emotional and social fractures with an almost unsettling clarity, a decades-old story reflecting our present more honestly than many contemporary works.

~Reading this one made me realise how essential a good translation is, it is a bridge across time, carrying a writer’s heartbeat, silences, and shadows into the present with undistorted clarity.

~ Grateful to @sen.mahua5 for rendering the author’s world with such precision and fluency, allowing it to breathe again in our moment🤍

~ If you love modernist fiction, sharp psychological writing, or forgotten gems of Hindi literature, this one deserves a place on your shelf.

[Priya Arun]

Not every story must be interesting. Not every story must be fascinating. Not every story needs a twist or a dramatic plotline. The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary is different — it’s not what you expect, and that’s exactly why it stays with you.

Rajkamal writes with a raw honesty that makes you feel everything — love, emotion, betrayal, rape, hurt, injury, death. And yet, through all of this chaos, the only thing that survives is compassion. That’s the soul of the book.

The story revolves around Nirmal Padmavath, an industrialist who rose from nothing and falls all the way down again. But something in him stays untouched — a kind of inner truth. Rajkamal shows him as a man of honesty, someone who silently evokes fear and respect, someone whose love for Kalyani is unconditional. But this isn’t a love story. It’s a life story.

Mahua Sen deserves special mention — her translation doesn’t dilute Rajkamal’s voice. She keeps the originality, the sharpness, the grit completely intact. It reads smooth yet powerful, making the book accessible without losing its essence.

Rajkamal Choudhary himself was far ahead of his time — bold, experimental, and unafraid to write about realities people avoided. His works often touched on LGBTQ themes, societal hypocrisy, suffering, and the complexities of human desire. This book reflects all of that.

It’s a short, quick read, but you never know where it’s taking you — and that unpredictability is the beauty. The book deals with rape, betrayal, honesty, LGBTQ themes, and even drops in references to 17th–19th century classics. Simple, yet different.

[Mugdha Mahajan]

This book feels like a dark secret you weren’t supposed to find. I picked it up because of the rumors about it being essentially banned in the sixties and I totally see why now. The writing does not care about making you feel comfortable. It shows 1960s Kolkata in a way that is gritty and real and surprisingly modern.

The story follows a businessman named Nirmal who is stuck in a web of messy relationships. He is surrounded by women who are all struggling to breathe in a society that ignores their true desires. The way it explores queer identity and hidden love during that era is honestly mind blowing. It is dark and moody and deeply heartbreaking.

Everyone in this story is like a fish out of water. They are emotionally suffocating while trying to survive in a cold and industrial city. If you like stories that feel like a punch to the stomach you need to read this. It is raw and bold and stays with you long after you finish the last page.

[Bibliophileee]

The Dead Fish feels like a haunting melody, soft, painful, and unforgettable. Rajkamal Choudhary’s writing strips down human emotion to its rawest form. Nirmal’s life, full of contradictions and chaos, reflects how identity can twist under pressure. His inability to love, his guilt, and his obsession all blend into something heartbreakingly real. The queer elements felt natural and beautifully written, something truly progressive for its time. The dead fish metaphor captures the stillness of lost emotions perfectly. Mahua Sen’s translation is impeccable, it preserves the poetic flow and emotional depth of the original Hindi. It’s one of those books that leave you with more questions than answers—but that’s the beauty of it. 🌊

[Rahul Vishnoi]

-A Saga of Love, Violence & Beastiality-
Review of 'The Dead Fish' by Rajkamal Choudhary. Translated by Mahua Sen

Quote Alert
"𝐍𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐍𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬!"


(This world operates in a certain way. Wherever you lead, it follows with its head bowed, much like a herd of goats. The key is strength, and even more crucial is channelling that strength in the right direction.)

Ever wonder why stories are called time machines? Portals into worlds we haven't yet visited? Because sometimes the thoughts that bubble in the minds of those who hold a quill (a keypad if you may) transcend the boundaries of time. Something physicists dream and theorize about, the writers achieve that with a flick of their wrist and a smudge of ink. 'The Dead Fish' written by Rajkamal Choudhary and superbly translated by Mahua Sen is a book that was ahead of its time. Set in mid 20th century Calcutta and New York, it explores many themes which were unheard of in those days. The author and translator duo (A&T) delve into the issues of queer identity, patriarchy, grief, violence, toxic tendencies, emotional volatility, contradictory sexuality, unfulfilled desire, hostile societal norms and difficult love.

The novel opens with an eerie sense of foreboding, throwing spotlight at the events to come. There is much screaming, an exploding light bulb, a quivering eighteen year old girl who sees a 'black man standing in the dark, like a genie, eyes gleaming like a torch...holding a rifle'.

Although Priya refers to his skin colour, the author and translator duo (A&T) choose to use this hue to point at the darkness of character. They tell the readers Nirmal Padmavat's personality is said to be 'darker than ebony itself'. In contrast, the man, the eminent surgeon he has come to meet, Dr Raghuvanshi, unlike ordinary Indian parents, doesn't advise his daughter Priya to hang a stole 'around her neck like a serpent' or button up her shirt. Here doctor appears to exist just to be a highlight to Nirmal's villainy.

The story moves back in time, exploring the motive of Nirmal's arrival in Calcutta eleven years ago. A&T have masterfully explored the layers of human nature in a scene when Dr Raghuvanshi is returning from his wife's funeral, almost lamenting the presence of his six year old daughter Priya, who, as children often are, is more interested in eating ice-cream than grieving her mother. She, however, can sense her father's 'anger, boredom and irritation'. A&T contrast this scene of inner sadness with the apathy of doctor's acquaintance who don't extend a word of sympathy or comfort. He further contrats it with the celebratory atmosphere of the famed Park Street of Calcutta.

A&T quote Ramakrishna Paramhansa and Swami Vivekananda, dropping lines about death, god and religion. Have a look: 'New chapters will
be added to the book of God; there will always be the origination of new truths and forms. I pray that hundreds of sects will emerge from one sect and a time will come when each person becomes a friend of his personal sect.' The story revolves around Normal Padmavat, and his obsession with a woman in her past and how it impacts his present.

Nirmal, one of the most fascinating and problematic characters, is an information broker, a thing most certainly not common in those times. Understanding people doesn't demand effort from him; rather, he possesses an innate talent for it, writes the author. His ability extends beyond comprehending just the mind; in the blink of an eye, he can perform a circumambulation of the entire existence of the person before him. This is what he has done all his life. He doesn't need to do or attain anything more than this.

The description of Kolkata city through Nirmal's eyes is luminous. In contrast to it, the author also describes New York where Nirmal met Kalyani and lost her. One of the most haunting scenes between the both is set there. I am not going to mention it here as I wouldn't want to spoil the organic process of discovering it while reading. The passages here he compared Kalyani to Dakshina Kali are also worth mentioning. Then there is a mention of Americans mistake Nirmal (note the connotation of name here) for a black person. He is also referred to as 'black boy' and even 'a cliff of black stones.)

Nirmal didn't feel sorrow for his mother's departure, when she abandoned him for a love interest. Instead, the pain stemmed from the sale of the family home. He rationalized her leaving as her needing a man, that it was fair for her to go, but the perplexing question remained-why did she take the house with her?

Now, a note on translation. It's the beauty as well as curse of a translation that it must remain invisible. Like a sturdy set of bones, it much prop up the story on its feet, without being visible. And Mahua Sen's translation does just that. The biggest compliment you can give to a translator is about their invisibility: 'The book didn't read like a translation at all.' So this crossing of the words, from one language to another, was fluid and organic. Kudos to Mahua Sen for dusting up this gem from obscurity and bringing it into our reading selves. Go get it guys. Order from Amazon or wherever the books are sold.

Leaving you with these lines from the book:
"Such an intersection does not exist where these twoNfictitious and peculiar people could come together after walking on two different paths."

[Ravi Chopra]

**Book Review: "The Dead Fish" by Rajkamal Choudhary (Translated by Mahua Sen)**

"The Dead Fish," originally penned in the 1960s by Rajkamal Choudhary and now adeptly translated by Mahua Sen, is a provocative exploration of themes that remain relevant today—lesbian love, patriarchal structures, and the often-overlooked depths of loneliness. This daring narrative confronts societal norms, making it a groundbreaking work that challenges readers to reflect on their own lives.

At the heart of the story is Dr. Raghuvansh, a neurosurgeon grappling with profound grief after the death of his wife, Kalyani. Alone with his six-year-old daughter, Priya, he seeks solace but finds instead a chance encounter with Nirmal Padmavat at a bar. This meeting unravels a complex tapestry of relationships, as Nirmal is later revealed to be Kalyani's former lover—an omission that raises questions about honesty and deception.

Nirmal’s backstory is equally compelling. Traumatized by his mother’s abandonment, a fate that leaves him homeless and reliant on the goodwill of others, he hardens himself emotionally and eventually builds an industrial empire. His obsessive past with Kalyani ignites a relentless search for her likeness in every woman he encounters. Despite his material success, emotional fulfillment eludes him, resulting in a marriage to Shirin—the ex-wife of his rival, Mehta—where he finds himself incapable of love.

The relationship between Shirin and Priya evolves in unexpected ways, transcending mere friendship to become romantic partners. However, the dark undercurrent of Nirmal's obsession manifests in a shocking violation of Priya that complicates the already tangled web of their lives. It is Raghuvansh's reaction to this violation that leaves readers questioning his emotional state: rather than harboring anger towards Nirmal, he reveals a shocking detachment, further delving into themes of forgiveness and resignation.

Choudhary's characters are wonderfully complex, leaving readers oscillating between sympathy and confusion. The absurdity of certain decisions emphasizes their humanity; the characters are flawed and deeply affected by their pasts, revealing how trauma can affect one's choices in life and love.

Adding an artistic dimension to the storytelling, the line sketches throughout the book enhance the narrative, capturing the stark emotions and solitude experienced by the characters. These illustrations serve as a symbol of the overarching themes of the novel, particularly that of the titular “dead fish” in the pond—a powerful metaphor that encourages contemplation about the stagnant aspects of one’s life and the hidden depths of existence.

Overall, "The Dead Fish" is a remarkable work that pushes boundaries and explores issues that were—and still are—often swept under the rug. Mahua Sen's translation breathes life into Choudhary's original prose, allowing contemporary readers to appreciate the raw, unflinching portrayal of human relationships and societal expectations. This novel is not just a story; it is an invitation to confront the complexities of love, loss, and the intricacies of human connection, making it a standout piece that resonates deeply.

[Ruchi Patel]

Rajkamal Choudhary’s Machhali Mari Hui, now translated into English as The Dead Fish, is a daring exploration of sexuality, identity, and emotional chaos in mid-20th century Kolkata. Often hailed as his seminal masterpiece, the novel pushes boundaries by confronting themes that were taboo for its time—queer identity, fragmented desires, and the inner turmoil of living in a society bound by rigid norms.

The story opens with Dr. Raghuvansh, a respected surgeon, and his daughter Priya, an 18-year-old medical student who lost her mother at a young age. Into their lives comes Nirmal Padmavat, a man shrouded in rumors, feared and whispered about for his volatile temperament and controversial relationships. Nirmal’s tangled emotional life unfolds through his connections with Shirin, Priya, and his beloved Kalyani—each relationship peeling back layers of his contradictions, exposing both his vulnerabilities and his brutality.

Choudhary paints Nirmal as a deeply conflicted figure—part Mephistopheles, part Othello, part Heathcliff—haunted by desires he cannot reconcile. His violation of Kalyani’s daughter Priya is not only a shocking narrative turn but also a metaphor for his inability to connect with women in any healthy way. Through this, Choudhary critiques not just one man’s moral collapse but also the suffocating structures of society that breed repression, hypocrisy, and violence.

The metaphor of the “dead fish” is woven throughout the novel, symbolizing barrenness, enmeshment, and unfulfilled longings. Choudhary’s prose is lyrical yet experimental, his narrative structure unconventional, reflecting the disorientation of characters caught between devotion and detachment, love and self-destruction.

What makes The Dead Fish stand out is its fearless depiction of homosexuality and queer struggles at a time when such topics were silenced. Priya and Shirin’s presence highlights the often-ignored intersections of identity, desire, and societal rejection.

In an age where conversations around sexuality and gender identity are more vital than ever, this translation makes Choudhary’s work feel both urgent and timeless. The Dead Fish is not an easy read—it disturbs, provokes, and unsettles—but therein lies its brilliance. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about love, power, and the invisible cages built by society.

[MEGHA]

The dead fish is hands down one of the best books that I have read this year. It is a surprise that a book of this sorts could have been written in 1960s, the read and the contents of the book were so intriguingly written that it got me interested in the literary movement of that time called ‘The Hungryalist movement’ to which the author of this book belonged to, it is no surprise that the writings of the movement were considered obscene then, which would prolly still be considered obscene today except for in some progressive circles.

To begin with, the themes like homosexuality and alienation that were explored in this book were so intricately brought in almost like undercurrents with the complex characters yet simple narration. I have never come across such complicated characters like Padmavat and Kalyani and every other character that was part of this book, the layers of the characters can be peeled like the skin of an onion. The author does a rather splendid job in driving home the point about the themes, all in while using non-complicated simple narrative style making the book easy to read and so immersive that you feel the pain of the protagonists while at the same time being almost disgusted with some of their behaviour.

The writing style of the book is so starkly intelligent, the weaving of the discrete narratives and the going back and forth on narratives is something that you’d find throughout the book. This particular aspect of it makes it more fun and interesting to read, as this style is something which is not normally found. Hence making this book prolly one of the few where both the story and the writing style equally intriguing.

Finally, the translator of the book Mahua Sen, an author herself has done a spectacular job at translating without loosing the original essence of the book, it would definitely have been a challenge to translate this one, as it wasn’t just the language but also the time that this historical fiction written that was supposed to have been translated. No where in the read will it ever feel like a translated work, which is prolly what every translator aims to achieve.

All in all, this book wouldn’t disappoint anyone that reads it, regardless of their agreement or not with the contents of the book.

[Ishika]

There are books that do not reassure you; they shake your moral centre, making you confront what you want to deny. The Dead Fish is one such book, a masterly written haunting novel in the 1960s by Rajkamal Choudhary and translated with consummate skill by Mahua Sen. It disentangles the complex braid of desire, patriarchy, loneliness, and moral decay in a society where silence is virtue.

At its core, this is a philosophical exploration of existential hollowness how human beings seek meaning yet find themselves trapped in an endless cycle of wanting and alienation. In Nirmal Padmavat, Choudhary presents a man who has everything the world values, power, prestige, and achievement yet inwardly is hollow. His inability to love or be loved is a reflection of what Albert Camus called the "absurd condition" of being, where meaning evaporates in spite of our desperate quest for it.

The novel also testifies to Simone de Beauvoir's feminist existentialism, her thesis that women are confined to "the Other." Women in this novel like Kalyani, Shirin, and Priya exist in a web of male loneliness and power. Their desires are either repressed or suppressed, and their agony made invisible under the weight of social morality. But even in their misery, there's a hint of rebellion especially in the illegal passion of Shirin and Priya, one of the earliest queer depictions of love in Hindi fiction.

The Dead Fish as allegory has persuasive power, it symbolizes rot, moral decay, and the killing of compassion in a world that's been anaesthetized beyond emotion. All the characters are trapped in his or her puddle of guilt and desire, unable to swim towards atonement.

Philosophically nuanced, emotionally unnerving, and unbashfully honest, The Dead Fish is not so much a story it's a mirror. It forces one to confront the double-talk of a society that shudders at emotion while tolerating oppression. Mahua Sen's translation resurrects this classic work and makes it not just a work of literature but a moral and existential one as well.

[Aranya]

When I first opened this book, I felt lost. The historical references were unfamiliar, the incidents felt distant, and the characters seemed strange, almost impenetrable. But then the novel slowly pulled me into its unsettling psychological landscape.

Kalyani emerged as one of the most fascinating characters—passionate, fiercely self-aware, and unapologetically choosing prostitution to sustain the life she desires. Nirmal, on the other hand, is a man whose fractured sexuality and violence seem deeply rooted in a childhood scar: watching his widowed mother abandon him for another man, after selling their house and making him homeless. That unresolved helplessness mutates into brutality when he rapes an innocent young woman, Priya. The horror doesn't end there. Priya's father thanks him for "teaching her a lesson" because he believes her attraction towards women is a sin. That moment disturbed me as much as the assault itself.

Then comes Shirin, Nirmal's wife. She longs for intimacy from a husband who has emotionally abandoned her. Instead, she finds comfort in Priya, the very woman scarred by Nirmal's violence. Shirin's own understanding of her sexuality is shaped by memories of intimacy with her elder sister, making the novel even more uncomfortable in the way it explores trauma, desire, repression, and identity.

What stunned me most wasn't merely the presence of these taboo subjects—it was the psychological realism with which Rajkamal Choudhary wrote them back in 1964. Reading it today, I could only imagine the outrage such a novel must have provoked at the time.

I finished it shocked, emotionally shaken, and unable to stop thinking about it.

Mahua Sen's 2025 translation makes this remarkable work accessible to a new generation, but I still wonder if we're truly ready for the truths it lays bare. It's a difficult, fearless, uncomfortable and unforgettable novel. If you're willing to confront uneasy literature, I wholeheartedly recommend reading it. The translation is at par with the original work.

[Imee]

“Some stories don’t entertain you they quietly dismantle the way you look at life.”

When I first picked up The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary, beautifully translated by Mahua Sen, I expected a dark mystery. The novel opens on an eerie night as an unexpected visitor rings the doorbell of Dr. Raghuvansh, one of the city’s most respected surgeons, filling his home with anxiety and uncertainty. For a moment, it feels as though you’re about to enter a horror story. But the deeper you read, the more you realize that the real horror isn’t what waits outside the door it’s the emptiness, loneliness, and emotional conflicts people carry within themselves.

At the heart of the story is Nirmal Padmavat, a wealthy industrialist living in the magnificent Kalyani Mansion. His arrival changes the lives of everyone around him, especially Priya, the young medical student who gradually finds herself emotionally drawn to him. Alongside them is Shirin, Nirmal’s wife, whose loneliness and silent suffering become one of the novel’s most heartbreaking aspects. Their lives intertwine in ways that are complex, unsettling, and deeply human, but I’ll leave the rest for you to discover because this is a story best experienced page by page.

What impressed me most was how Rajkamal Choudhary transforms ordinary relationships into profound questions about identity, love, desire, morality, and purpose. This is not a fast-paced novel; it’s one that asks you to pause, reflect, and sit with uncomfortable truths. Every chapter feels like peeling away another layer of the human mind.

The title itself is symbolic. A dead fish simply drifts with the current, unable to choose its direction. In the same way, the novel asks whether we are truly living our own lives or merely drifting through them, shaped by society, ambition, and fear.

And then comes the ending quiet, philosophical, and unforgettable. The line that stayed with me long after I closed the book was:

“Love dies. Lust dies. Not compassion. Only compassion never dies.”

[Azka Chaudhary]

That difficulty is worth acknowledging. The Dead Fish isn’t necessarily a book one reads quickly for the pleasure of seeing what happens next. It demands patience and a willingness to sit with ambiguity. Some passages may feel deliberately excessive or uncomfortable, particularly for readers accustomed to more straightforward storytelling. But those qualities are also closely connected to the book’s attempt to portray a world that itself feels unstable and fractured.

At its heart is a powerful sense of human alienation. The characters are not simply struggling against external circumstances; they are also wrestling with themselves. Desire, loneliness, identity, sexuality, social expectations, and mortality intersect in ways that rarely produce easy conclusions.

What may surprise modern readers is how contemporary some of the emotional questions can feel. Even though the work belongs to an earlier literary context, its concerns about loneliness, social disconnection, dissatisfaction, and the difficulty of finding meaning remain recognizable.

Still, this isn’t a book that should be approached expecting comfort or easy inspiration. It is darker, stranger, and more confrontational than that. Its value lies partly in its refusal to smooth out the uncomfortable parts of human experience.

Overall,
The Dead Fish feels less like a book that wants to tell you what to think and more like one that wants to disturb your certainty.

It asks what happens when individuals lose their sense of direction, when society itself feels morally unstable, and when simply continuing to move forward no longer feels the same as actually living.

It may not be an easy read.

But perhaps that is precisely the point.

Some books entertain us. Some explain the world. And some hold up an uncomfortable mirror and make us wonder whether we recognize the person looking back at us. The Dead Fish belongs firmly in the third category.

[Sonia]

Mahua Sen's "The Dead Fish" is the English translation of "Machhali Mari Hui" originally written in Hindi by Rajkamal Choudhary in the 1960s. It is a bold and unsettling novel that stays with you long after you finish reading it.

The novel is set mainly in Calcutta and centres on Nirmal Padmavat, a wealthy industrialist whose life is filled with inner conflict and emotional emptiness. His relationships with Kalyani, Priya and Shirin reveal his confused personality and the damage caused by love, desire and social expectations. The story does not follow a simple, linear plot. Instead, it moves between past and the present, allowing readers to understand the characters' psychological struggles.

The title "The Dead Fish" is highly symbolic. It represents emotional emptiness, the loss of hope, and the moral decay of society as reflected through its characters. Just as a dead fish cannot survive without water, many of the characters seem unable to find love, peace, or genuine human connection in life. Those who lack compassion, empathy, kindness and affection live in emotional darkness.

Rajkamal Choudhary's writing style is rich, poetic, and deeply psychological. Mahua Sen deserves special praise for her translation, as she successfully captures the beauty, intensity and complexity of original work. I would also like to mention the illustrations and sketches in the book, which add another layer of meaning and speak volumes.

"The Dead Fish" is a powerful and unforgettable novel. It is neither an easy read nor an entertaining one in the conventional sense. Instead, it encourages readers to reflect on identity, relationships, morality and the hidden pain people carry within themselves. Even after many decades, its themes remain relevant because loneliness, emotional conflict and the search for genuine human connection continue to be universal experiences.

[Risha Nautiyal]

"Machi jal ki Rani hai, Jeevan uska pani hai; Hanth lagao darr jaegi, bahar nikalo marr jaegi.. "
Rough translation - " A fish is a queen of water and her life depends on water, if you touch her she will get scared , take her out of water and she'll be dead"
~ Living beings thrive well when they are in their natural habitat (place/thought/identity), else they barely survive.. just like a Dead fish...
A story that takes you deep into human sentiments and feelings of love, betrayal, rage and revenge as central themes.
The story revolves around Nirmal who in his life, loved or rather, looked for companionship with three women in different timelines..
Kalyani, a carefree soul who truly lives her life to the fullest..
Shirin, who thought that she found her love in Nirmal however had an awakening about her own identity and preferences later.
Priya, a young girl who is curious about anything and everything and is drawn towards Nirmal and the attraction may be due to a ghost of the past (read the novel to find out more!!) and at the same time develops a mutual liking for Shirin.
Dr Raghuvansh's character is written with much thought and will make sense if you step into his shoes..
Set in 1960s, old Calcutta; this is an unsettling yet important story that discusses about homosexuality & its acceptance.
This will surely make you question on your own perception and how much have we progressed as a society..

A must read for everyone 10
Also, the illustrations throughout the book are too beautiful and deep
Wonderfully translated by@sen.mahua5

[Arghadipa Chakraborty]

🍁Book:- The Dead Fish
🍁Author:- Rajkamal Choudhary (Translated by Mahua Sen)
🍁Publication:- Rupa Publications
🍁Printed Price:- Rs. 495/-

"What truly holds up are compassion and empathy, kindness and affection. And illusions."

Society has been judgemental for the people always as it expects each one will behave like a robot and follow a particular lifestyle and choice. If it notices any change in anyone, it starts to question at once and throw mud in a peculiar way.

The novel is set against the 1960s Calcutta and highlights the societal norms, taboo themes and courageous footsteps dominantly. "The Dead Fish", which is the brilliant English translation of the masterpiece Hindi literature "Maachli Mari Hui", centers around Nirmal Padmavat, a ruthless businessman. His personal life is completely messed up and the readers witness it as the novel moves forward to describe his relationships with Kalyani, Shirin and Priya. This part of the novel seems to be hauntingly real, an epitome of raw desires and barren life. At the same time, it is disturbing as it delves into something deep along with unfulfillment of personal feelings.

The metaphor of dead fish is so apt here that it will make you think even after turning the last page. Rajkamal Choudhary's revolutionary work in literary world is truly praiseworthy and Mahua Sen has maintained its true essence in a meticulous way. The readers, who love to read queer literature, should read this book.

"Why does a man oscillate between being strong and being weak?"

[Medha | Bookwormsbooth]

Told from a shifting perspective, the book is audaciously intertextual. One moment you’re wandering Kolkata’s streets or pulsing through New York’s feverish clubs, and the next, you’re hurled—breathless—into the raging and fractured mind of Nirmal Padmavat. Visually, he’s as striking as Shakespeare’s Othello, but emotionally, he burns with the wild, destructive passion of Brontë’s Heathcliff. In its first half, the book doesn’t read like queer literature at all—it’s experimental, modernist, and audaciously intertextual, steeped in Greek, Roman, Victorian, and even French allusions.
But then, in the second half, the focus sharpens. Suddenly, we’re plunged into the underbelly of a hidden India, where lesbian desire is silenced, pathologized, even violated under the guise of ‘curing’ women of a so-called diseased orientation.
For a work written decades ago, The Dead Fish feels shockingly urgent, shockingly modern.
It’s unsettling, unflinching, utterly unforgettable and a mirror maze.
Stylistically, the novella is dazzling. Past and present oscillate like shifting mirrors; every chapter opens with symbolic marine imagery; and the narrative itself is experimental to the point of disorientation. And then comes the ending—abrupt, circular, devastating. The story doesn’t just close, it collapses back into itself, leaving you with the sense that it could never have ended any other way.

[Sonali Sharma]

I went in expecting just another translated Hindi novel but Rajkamal Choudhary delivers something so raw and uncomfortable that I'm still processing it days later. Nirmal is one of the most complex and disturbing protagonists I've encountered - he's simultaneously repulsive and tragically human. The way Choudhary handles his sexuality and the relationships with Shirin, Priya and Kalyani is brutal but necessary. There's this constant undercurrent of violence and softness. The writing itself is experimental and sometimes disorienting, which honestly worked perfectly for the psychological mess that is Nirmal's inner world.

What really got to me was how relevant this feels despite being set in mid-20th century Kolkata. The exploration of queer identity, especially through Priya and Shirin's characters, feels so authentic and painful. Choudhary doesn't give you easy answers or clean resolutions - the dead fish metaphor runs through everything like this constant reminder of decay and unfulfilled longing. It's not an easy read by any means, and there are moments that are genuinely hard to get through, but it's the kind of book that stays with you. I keep thinking about how brave this must have been for its time, and how it still feels urgent today. Definitely not for everyone, but if you're looking for literature that challenges and disturbs in all the right ways, this is it. Something new to try out!

[the_ binge_ bibliophile]

There are books you read and move on from, and then there are books that make you stop and appreciate what literature can actually do. The Dead Fish was the latter for me.

What I loved most was how layered the literature is. There is so much beneath the surface—so many emotions, contradictions and uncomfortable truths woven into the narrative. The writing feels unconventional and almost fragmented at times, but that only adds to its beauty. It feels deeply human, flawed and real.

I also have to appreciate the translation by Mahua Sen. Translating such intricate and raw literature while retaining its original character is no easy task, and I felt that the essence of Choudhary’s writing was preserved beautifully.

The “dead fish” metaphor is probably what stayed with me the most. It represents something that has lost its ability to move freely—desires, relationships and people trapped by circumstances, expectations and their own emotional wounds. There is a constant feeling of barrenness and stagnation running through the story.

I finished The Dead Fish feeling less like I had simply read a story and more like I had been forced to look at the uglier, more uncomfortable corners of human nature.
Raw. Unsettling. Complicated. Thought-provoking.

A book that may not be for everyone, but is definitely one you won't forget easily.

[Kshitij Bajpai]

Some books are so ahead of their times that even after 60 years, upon translation, the book leaves you in a haze. This is what this book did to me. It is a haunting story of three women, all of whom have been persecuted and shunned by the society at all turns. And in the middle of it, Nirmal Padmavat, their common persecuter, a man who struggles with his identity and sexuality till the very end. A most righteous man, who commits the most heinous crime, and yet, leaves you with no closure.
I have not read the original manuscript by Rajkamal Choudhary, but I can surely say that he must be proud of how elegantly Mahua Sen has translated the book. The emotions run deep like childhood scars, and the flow is smoother than marble. The analogy of the fish hits home, and Choudhary surely did not spare anyone from his wrath. Everyone is miserable and suffering from one horrible thing or the other. The book ends up being a jarring commentary of the society from 60 years in the past, that seems to be living there even now.
In this brilliantly done translation, Mahua Sen brings out a story of great reverence and relevance from the '60s to current day India, in a country where queer rights are still too taboo a topic.

[Ramiyah Khan]

The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary, translated by Mahua Sen, is a dark and unsettling novel that explores loneliness, desire, alienation, sexuality, and the emotional emptiness of human relationships. Set in 1960s Calcutta, the story centres on Nirmal Padmavat and his complicated inner and outer world, where relationships are marked by longing, dissatisfaction, and a constant search for meaning.

What makes the novel particularly striking is its atmosphere. The city feels almost like another character restless, dark, and filled with people who are themselves struggling with isolation and unfulfilled desires. The narrative moves through different emotions, relationships, and moments in a way that reflects the fragmented state of its characters.

Mahua Sen’s translation is one of the strongest aspects of the book. Her prose is sparse, vivid, and imagistic, while maintaining the intensity and pace of authors writing. The translation makes the novel accessible to contemporary English readers without losing its quality.

Overall, The Dead Fish is a deeply atmospheric and psychologically intense work. It leaves you thinking about desire, loneliness, human connection, and the emptiness that can exist even when people are surrounded by others.

[Raghvendra]

The Dead Fish is a terrifyingly great work, daring, poetic, and profoundly self-reflective. It is an expedition through Nirmal Padmavat's shattered consciousness where love and hate are mixed together and identity is always put to the test. The author greatly succeeded in presenting gayness and emotional upheaval in Kolkata of the mid-20th century in a way that it became quite a revolutionary depiction. The characters Priya, Shirin, Kalyani, are interconnected through the same emotional turmoil. The dead fish is taken to mean a metaphorical soul that has given up all heat and passion, a soft analogy that does not fade away even after the end of the story. Mahua Sen’s translation of the book is so well done that it seems like letting the same beautiful and emotionally deep original Hindi come out of the mouth of a different person. It was like going through the layers of the human mind, painful, candid, and memorable. It is not a book for comfortable reading, but it is a book that gives you the experience of something true. The narrative that has to be faced is that of how much of our identity is constructed on silence and shame.

[S. Book review]

The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary (Translated by Mahua Sen) is a strong and honest book that shows the dark and painful sides of human emotions. The story revolves around Nirmal Padmavat, a man full of confusion, guilt, and emotional conflict. His relationships with Kalyani, Shireen, and Priya show how broken and complex people can be when love, desire, and identity get mixed up. Rajkamal Choudhary wrote this story years ago, yet it feels very real even today. It talks about loneliness, sexual identity, and the struggle to be accepted by society.

The English translation by Mahua Sen is excellent. She has done a great job keeping the real emotions and raw truth of the original story alive. Her translation makes the book easy to understand without losing its depth. She presents every character with honesty and care. Through her words, readers can feel the pain, confusion, and helplessness of each person in the story. The book also brings attention to issues like societal silence, emotional emptiness, and how people hide their real selves to fit in.

Reading this book was a powerful experience. It made me think deeply about human relationships and how people suffer silently behind closed doors. The book will make you uncomfortable at times, but that’s what makes it so real and meaningful. It shows the truth of our world the broken relationships, the loss of real connection, and the constant search for love and peace. It doesn’t try to decorate the truth; it just tells it as it is.

I strongly recommend The Dead Fish to readers who want to read something bold, honest, and thought-provoking. This is not just a story it’s a mirror that shows the hidden side of human nature. It will make you think about life, love, and the pain people carry within them. It’s a rare book that leaves a lasting mark on your mind and heart.

[kriti]

MY REVIEW: Machhli Mari Hui (The Dead Fish) by Rajkamal Choudhary (Translated by Mahua Sen) @sen.mahua5
I knew this book was historically significant, but reading the actual plot blew me away.
What the story is actually about:
Set in a grim, industrial 1960s Kolkata, the novel follows Nirmal Padmavat, a cold, successful businessman obsessed with a skyscraper he built for his past love, Kalyani. But the emotional core shifts to two women in his orbit: his wife, Shirin, and Kalyani’s daughter, Priya. Trapped in an unforgiving city and unfulfilled lives, Shirin and Priya find a quiet, tender intimacy with each other making this the first Hindi novel to openly depict lesbian relationships and same-sex desire.
Why it works:
• Zero Sugarcoating: Every character is flawed, fractured, and navigating deep isolation.
• Masterful Translation: Mahua Sen preserves the author’s original grit and poetic sharpness without diluting the rawness.
It doesn’t try to make you comfortable, and that’s precisely why it’s so radical.
Have you read any classic translated queer literature? Let’s talk in the comments!

[Wittygirlwithabook]

I finished reading this book and I must admit that this is a rare literary gem that will blow your mind with its unflinching honesty and unsettling beauty. It is authentic, disturbing and yet strangely mesmerizing.

The characters in the book are flawed and fractured messed up between desire and despair well searching meaning in a world that refuses to offer them.

I mean I loved the whole characterization and how the narrative captures the essence of today’s reality and presents it with such honesty as the stand out point of this book. Also, the way the storyline explores the themes of hollow relationships, death of genuine human bonds, longing, detachment and stagnant mortality through the characters is just phenomenal. The illustrations are marvelous.

The way the translation of this book is done without diluting the core essence and the rawness of the language is highly appreciable. She actually preserved the author's original words with grace.

This book will push the readers to face uncomfortable truths and the harsh reality of today’s world and society. It will literally show you the rot beneath the surface without sugarcoating.

Overall, a powerful read, highly recommended.🙌🙌

[Craartology]

The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary is translated by Mahua Sen from his original Machhali Mari Hui, a novel written way ahead of its time.

The story follows Nirmal Padmavat, a successful businessman and his obsession with Kalyani. The woman of his dreams who could never be his life partner. Padmavat's extreme obsession makes his life tumultuous after his separation from Kalyani and later when he meets Priya, Kalyani's daughter-as a grown up. We also have Shirin, Padmavat's wife who plays a curious role along with Priya in this absurd tale of grey characters, desires, loneliness and glam.

The Dead Fish is a spectacular, brave and unusual attempt at portraying deep psychological turmoil if not attended to- could lead to abuse, queer desires and the depressive melancholy of being alone. The atmospheric plot builds up the grief which settles deep within.

This story rattles you and that's what makes it remarkable. Glad to have read this gem from Indian literature, which proves the ingenious awareness of social workings in a richly drafted story.

[Swapna Peri ( Book Reviews Cafe )]

The Dead Fish is a powerful and daring novel by Rajkamal Choudhary, translated beautifully into English by Mahua Sen. Set in Calcutta of the 1960s, the book explores themes that were far ahead of its time—same-sex love, women’s desires, social corruption, and the suffocating weight of expectations. The story does not comfort the reader; instead, it unsettles, provokes, and demands reflection. Through its bold characters and shifting timeline, it captures the struggles of people searching for freedom in a society that tries to silence them.

What makes this book unforgettable is its emotional honesty and the depth of its characters, especially the women, who are written with rare complexity. The title itself becomes a haunting symbol of loneliness and lost vitality. While unsettling at times, the novel is deeply moving and thought-provoking. Mahua Sen’s translation keeps the poetic rhythm and layered meaning of the original alive, making this timeless work accessible to new readers.

[bookswithsakshi]

I was totally immersed while reading a book after a long time. This book kept me glued through and through and made me go through a rollercoaster of emotions. Initially, I didn't see it for what it was but gradually I started understanding the depth of the story and before I realised, I was hooked to the story.

In my opinion, the story doesn't move linearly, it keeps flowing back and forth, between the glimpses of the past and the happenings of the present, offering a smooth narrative about the character's turmoil and life in general.

Shirin, Priya, Kalyani, Nirmal and Dr Raghuvansh are the central characters of this story and each of them have a story to tell. You would sympathize with a few while hate others for being who they are in the story. This book made me uncomfortable at places and also angry for the insensitive nature of people towards others.

Highly recommend it if you are in mood for a book that sits with you after you've finished reading it.

[Aru]

There are books you read, and then there are books that consume you. The Dead Fish by Rajkamal Choudhary is definitely the latter. It explores the cracks in human desire and the shadows of identity with poetic honesty. Through Nirmal Padmavat’s life, Choudhary unravels themes of loneliness, guilt, queerness, and emotional barrenness. His relationships with Kalyani, Shirin, and Priya are reflections of his inner void, a man trapped between longing and detachment. The metaphor of the dead fish feels painfully accurate, it represents the numbness of unfulfilled emotions. Mahua Sen’s translation is masterful, preserving every subtle emotion, every lyrical pause, every ache hidden between lines. Reading it was like standing at the edge of something dark yet strangely beautiful. It made me think about the ways we hide behind societal expectations and lose touch with our own truths. It’s bold, relevant, and heartbreakingly timeless.