A powerful novel about an artist mother and her child. I ran away from home and from the shackles of society, family and attachments. I just wanted I to live my life, write my novel, follow my passions. I didn't know that my five-year-old boy had followed me out, but with that realization, Ishwari emerged from within me: a mother, a woman with responsibilities, a woman who was ready to suppress her dreams to protect her son. My son - a child I do not want. Ishwari and Roo wandered the streets at night, looking for a place to stay. A kind old caretaker gave them an empty room on the terrace of a guest house. Ishwari found a job as caregiver to the handsome gentleman who lived next door, while Roo - her weak, invalid son - was locked up all day in the room on the roof. 'And I struggle to find my place in this dark novel. I yearn for passion and despair - for that is what makes good literature - while Ishwari seeks a life of joy for herself and her son. Pulsating with raw energy, Abandon gives voice to the perpetual conflict between life and art.
When Panty was first published in Bengali, it created a furore—a reaction that is par for the course for Sangeeta Bandyopadhyay.
Her controversial first novel Shankini made for an explosive debut. Since then she has published nine novels and over fifty short stories. Also a newspaper columnist and a film critic, Sangeeta lives and writes in Kolkata.
সঙ্গীতা বন্দ্যোপাধ্যায়-এর জন্ম ২৩ নভেম্বর ১৯৭৪, দুর্গাপুরে। ১৯৮৬ সাল থেকে কলকাতায় বসবাস। প্রথমে বাগবাজার মালটিপারপাস্ গার্লস স্কুল, পরে গোখেল কলেজে পড়েছেন। তেরো-চোদ্দো বছর বয়স থেকেই কবিতা লেখার শুরু। প্রথম কবিতা ছাপা হয় ‘দেশ’ পত্রিকায় ২০০১-এ। তারপর নিয়মিত দেশ সহ বিভিন্ন পত্র-পত্রিকায় লেখালেখি। প্রথম উপন্যাস শঙ্খিনী। ‘দেশ’-এ ধারাবাহিকভাবে প্রকাশিত। পেশা: সাংবাদিকতা। একটি টিভি চ্যানেলের সঙ্গে যুক্ত। শখ: অসংখ্য। তবে আসল শখ মানুষের সঙ্গে এই মহাপৃথিবীর সম্পর্ক অধ্যয়ন।
"I am a lover of the night, a woman who roves in the dark... I have no expectations of dawn. Dawn signifies transparency, trustworthiness - dawn means the end of all mystery, or all romance. But tonight my inclinations have changed. Mine, or Ishwari's?"
From ABANDON by Sangeetha Bandyopadhyay, translated from the Bengali by Arunava Sinha, 2013 / 2017 by @tiltedaxisbooks
#ReadtheWorld21 📍India #WITmonth
A cleaved mind / existence.
Two spirits - more? - inside of one body: The creative and artistic spirit - desiring to abandon all trappings and devote her existence to her art; and the mother of an young boy with a mysterious and debilitating illness. The biggest taboo of motherhood - abandoning it all and running away.
The story opens and immediately lures the reader in. Ishwari and Roo - mother and son - homeless, running away, and on the streets of #Kolkata trying to find lodging on a cold night.
We watch through a lens, seeing the story unfurl from multiple, sometimes simultaneous perspectives - both inside the character we know as Ishwari. We see poverty, suffering, we see kindness and cruelty, love and sex, and hate and friendship. And we quickly realize that the lines are blurred between fiction and truth.
Metaphysical, mesmerizing, and hallucinatory. There's a lot to ruminate over here. The note at the beginning of the text draws attention to the names of the characters and their significance - Ishwari as Divine, Shakti, Mother Goddess, and Roo, the diminutive form of 'spirit' or 'soul'.
One of the three translated Bandyopadhyay novels from the UK's Tilted Axis Press. I got all three (this with Panty, and The Yogini) earlier this year in a package deal on their website. I'm hoping to fit in at least one more this month. Very eager to read more of her alluring and unique work.
“I was not prepared for the indifference of existence.”
After Panty hit me like a struck of lightening, I had to get Bandyopadhyay’s other novels. If Panty’s protagonist symbolizes the archetype of freedom and answers to no one but her own desire, Abandon returns to a cruel reality charged with the curse of motherhood.
Though Bandyopadhyay continues to haunt us with stunningly lyrical passages that almost turn desperation into poetry, this novel feels completely different in its more conventional structure and plot. That is not to say that it lacks authenticity.
Despite motherhood, identity and sexuality being themes often explored and picked apart in literature, Abandon manages to deliver freshness combined with a nearly extinct uncompromising depth and honesty.
Similarly to Panty, the city feels like an omnipresent support character, shedding light on relevant social and cultural aspects, such as gender roles, class and privilege.
The novel focuses on the split of female identity, where the two parts constantly battle to coexist. This division is done objectively, with the story being told from two narrative perspectives, a first person representing the urge for creativity, and a third person - Ishwari, the mother figure. Each of those selves is responsible for the birth of one creation - a novel and a child, both of which share a predatory nature in their own right. This split is led by her rejection of an abusive domestic life and refusal to surrender to complete submission.
She flees her home with her son Roo, whose name is by no means chosen at random. The word in Bengali can be interpreted as meaning a mother’s soul. Roo’s deteriorating health and imminent fatality can, therefore, be read as a mirror into the fragility of our protagonist‘s soul and her desire for full independence.
The ending is truly magnificent and literally soul-shattering, which more than makes up for a few rare weaker parts. The barre was set impossibly high with Panty, and even though this doesn’t reach quite as high, it comes as close as it can.
If you’re looking beauty underneath existential misery, you’ve come to the right place.
Abandon is one of those books that is hard to classify, even after I've left my thoughts to stew overnight. It is a story about motherhood and the burden society puts on widows or single mothers, as it delves into the ways in which society has provided no safety nets for these women to fall back on. With little to no help forthcoming and inefficient bureaucracy issues obstructing the women's fight for survival (for themselves and/or their children), it's no wonder mothers inevitably opt for the "easiest" choice in order to live -- hence the title.
The novel is written with an interesting perspective, and the technique of separating Ishwari-the-character and Ishwari's consciousness into two separate characters sort of brings to mind the Japanese's "i-novel" literary fiction genre when it comes to the choice of narrators in charge of this story. In this way, the novel also discusses the issue of art vs. empathy, where an argument is made that the art we see vis-à-vis literature only exists to put itself forward first and foremost, and thus art will oftentimes make use of its subjects (e.g. poverty, motherhood) to elicit sympathy or empathy ultimately for its own gain. When the objective of art for art's sake has been satisfied, the subjects of these studies are then set aside and abandoned in favor of the next art project.
Lastly: Poor, poor Roo -- while I felt a lot of things towards Ishwari and her (non-)choices, there's no denying the impact of these choices on the poor child, even as his mother tries her best. That ending definitely made a lasting impression on me. In short, this was a poignant read.
While the introspection is “Ferrante-lite”, I would hardly compare the two outside of it being purely to market an author to readers otherwise would not bump into.
I suppose the title “Abandon” fits. Ishwa is abandoned as a child from her parents and her lover/baby daddy abandons her when he kills himself. She abandons her sick/dying son Roo in order to get money to attempt to save him. Near the end of the book, hardly anything is resolved and she ultimately abandons every attachment outside of her child.
The book is too self-referential for my taste and the prose is way too straightforward to have very much to contemplate or think for yourself. Literally passage breaks speaking of “this novel in progress” when wasted pages can be utilized with I don’t know…giving the narrative to breathe.
Another book that I forced myself not to cry over till I couldn’t hold it in at the last page🥺.
Splitting one character into two is one of the most intriguing thing the author did with this book. You could very clearly see how Ishiwari (the main character) is torn between her “duties” and her desire to fully embody her artistic self.
There’s so much to say about the fact that most of Ishiwari’s duties involved catering completely to the men around her — all of them deserve hell except Roo 😣
I felt SO SAD for Roo; not in a way that I blame Ishiwari for being a “bad mother”, but in a way that I’m reminded how wicked it is to force a woman to birth a child. It is PURE WICKEDNESS, for the woman, yes, but even more so for the child. I saw the same thing while reading Elena Knows. It’s just wicked.
What is the point of life when the parent you want so much to love unconditionally can’t bring herself to because she didn’t want you in the first place? 😭 such unnecessary pain!
Ishiwari’s society thought they “saved” Roo’s soul (ironic because Roo means spirit 🥺) by forcing her to birth him, but in the end, my boy just suffered. Aha! 😫
This book is beautiful. The story telling is direct but I wished the artistic voice didn’t always sound so abstract because it weighed down the book for a sizeable portion. Still, I’m very glad I read this one.
আমার মশাই বেশ লাগছে। এই বই পড়ার সময় কিছু জায়গায় এত বাজে লাগতেছিলো, বিশেষ করে বুবু নামের লোকটার বাসায় কমবেশি যা হয়। এই উপন্যাস যদি একটা লেখার রূপক হয়, তাহলে ঐ বাসা হচ্ছে লেখার ব্যর্থতাগুলি, অন্তত আমার জায়গা থেকে যদি বলি। ব্যর্থতাই বা বলি কী করে। ঐ জায়গাগুলি পুরা সানন্দার গল্প একেকটা! গড়নে, মননে, ভেতরে ভেতরে! কিন্তু লেখিকার একটা ধারণার হাবভাব পাইলাম, তিনি ঈশ্বরী নামের চরিত্রে নিজেকে জুড়ে দিয়ে, এবং পুরো গল্পটাকে একটা আলাদা প্রলেপ দিয়ে অদ্ভূত একটা জায়গায় নিয়ে গেছেন। অন্যদের কেমন লাগবে জানি না, প্রয়াস হিসেবে ভালো বলতে বাধ্য আমি। একটা উদাহরণ দেই, বইয়ের কোনো চরিত্র মরে গেলে আমার মনে কোনো মানুষ মরার অনুভূতি হইত না, মনে হইত সাহিত্য মারা গেছে। পড়ে দেখুন, শেষ পর্যন্ত, নিজেই দেখবেন। শেষ পরিণতিটা দরকার ছিলো আমার। আমি এখন স্তব্ধ হবো কী হবো না, থামবো কী থামবো না, সুরাহা করার চেষ্টা করতেছি।
বাংলা বইয়ে এত ইংরেজি শব্দের আর ইংরেজি বর্ণমালার আধিক্য অবশ্য আমার আর সহ্য হচ্ছে না। আর লেখিকা সুন্দর, বরাবর যেরকম।
দীপ্তিরে ধন্যবাদ, দুই দুইটা সঙ্গীতার জন্য। দীপ্তির বই, এইটাও।
Abandon follows an artist and a mother, one woman divided into 2 by her desire to live freely and her duty to serve others. Our self-reflective protagonist, Ishwari, defies the conventions of South Asian womanhood by choosing self over community.
Ishwari serves as a physical and emotional anchor for surrounding male characters who depend on her for stability. There is an urgent sense of claustrophobia throughout where her impulse to abandon creeps in over her maternal disposition. She is by no means perfect, but I loved her complexity and commitment to autonomy which we never see in orthodox depictions of Asian women.
The prose are mainly punchy and straight-forward, although at times a little overwrought and jarringly hyperbolic when slipping into Ishwari’s artistic persona. Overall, it was enjoyable and thematically important, but a little slow-moving.
Abandon--the story of Ishwari and her son Roo, as they try to build a new life together after a long period of separation--is one of those books that are so good I was for a long time discouraged from reviewing it. How could I possibly do it justice? The imagery is so strange and wild, the ideas so electric, that it seems that the only way to convey the book's brilliance is to copy it out in its entirety. The opening paragraph alone is a masterclass, immediately pulling you into the story, intoxicating you with surreal images, and making your stomach flutter with equal parts dread and excitement:
"And then we proceed to wander around the city in search of shelter. We drift through the morbid yellow afternoon. Before our eyes, dusk descends like the trilling of a fire-engine bell and night falls like flames being extinguished by jets of water, a night as conspicuous as the whirling black skirts of desert gypsies. As for us, we are still spinning on our feet. We, that is to say, Roo and I. I, Ishwari, and Roo, who is my soul, stall for a moment in mid-air on our downward plummet. And when it is eleven-thirty (not midnight, for midnight is the hour of extreme longing for injured birds), a hallucinogenic silence surfaces on the city's streets from the netherworld."
After reading something like that, is it any wonder that all the beginnings I tried to come up with for this review felt immediately stale and dull? The translator, Arunava Sinha, deserves credit for taking what was probably a very strange novel in Bengali, and crafting an English version that remains profoundly strange, with very little discernible handholding, but that somehow also flows beautifully, compelling the reader's eye and mind to always move forward and forward and forward, to discover whatever wild beasts lie in wait in the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next chapter.
Abandon's central theme, too, is something I keep going back to in my mind--that is, its proposed dichotomy between art and empathy. At different points throughout the novel, Ishwari encounters men who write poems, or paint, or cry at music, but are incapable of demonstrating empathy towards their fellow humans, particularly Ishwari's sickly child Roo. Not only that, but the narrator (and perhaps the author?) believes that art is "predatory", exploiting human misery and tragedy. For example: even when an artist writes a poem spotlighting social injustice, something meant to inspire empathy and charity and action, it doesn't actually help anyone but the artist herself, by enhancing her fame and reputation. In fact, Ishwari is herself split between her empathetic, maternal side, referred to in the third person singular as "Ishwari", and the narrating "I", who sees her child as a burden and only really cares about her art (which happens to be the very novel the reader is reading), while also being aware of its exploitative nature. Of course that also brings in ideas concerning motherhood, and whether certain ways a mother acts towards her child may be seen as natural or unnatural, human or monstrous. It's a rich, heady soup of ideas and provocations. As a reviewer and devourer of pop culture, Ishwari's ideas about art and empathy, in particular, add a troubling shade to all the discussions that I've been carrying out in my head, and that I've heard or had with friends, about what art can and can't do in these tumultuous times.
Still, Abandon is not perfect (perhaps unlike Bandopadhyay's previous novella, Panty). Specifically, I found the novel's third act intermittently dull. The ending is fantastic, and there are still many great scenes, but, for much of the last third, we are forced to spend time with a character I simply could not stand: tedious, pretentious Bibaswan. Bibaswan fits perfectly with the novel's themes: he cries at music and finds it an incredible offence when Ishwari walks off in the middle of a song, but feels no empathy when she explains that she'd had to go and check on her seriously ill child. He is also emotionally needy, a classic mansplainer, a snob, and an amateur artist with a high opinion of himself but not a grain of imagination or talent. So I understand what his function is within the novel, and I also understand how the fact that Ishwari falls in love with him make her a more complex and human-like character, simultaneously less sympathetic (because she, too, mirrors some of Bibaswan's behaviours, and that must be where the attraction lies) and more sympathetic (because misguided relationships are so common). In fact, I also understand that we are meant to dislike this man. But these considerations don't change the fact that I really disliked having to read scenes in which Bibaswan plays a prominent role. Not just because I couldn't stand him as a person, but because I think he also had a dulling effect on the prose itself, which went from electric to unremarkable whenever he entered the scene.
In conclusion, then--would I recommend this book? Yes, absolutely. Its true that I hated Bibaswan--but that's the point, and he only really occupies a relatively small percentage of the book, and mostly in the novel's final third, and the ending is great anyway. Abandon is smart, strange, and thought-provoking. No one writes like Bandopadhyay, and she deserves to be a literary megastar.
A woman, running away from home and abandoning her societal and familial responsibilities that has worn her out and tied her tightly. Her main purpose is only to pursue her dream: writing a novel as she considers herself as some kind of female Picasso in the writing business. Is it easy? Nay, she has her five-year-old son Roo that comes and follows her around.
That woman, Ishwari struggles not only to find a place to stay for her and her son but also how to survive on daily basis. It’s a tough world we are living in, baby! With all the beliefs that women are considered as a perfect creature when they’re able to fullfil their duty in bearing children, I really love how Sangeeta brings the notion of womanhood and motherhood in this novel. It challenges the society which always puts more restriction and limitations on women. How motherhood can be seen as an achievement yet it's also a restriction.
Please, do not expect that Sangeeta will be straightforward in her stories. She will likely write dark stories and she leaves all of her stories open for any interpretations. The character of Roo and his relationship with his mum Ishwari here for example. Yet one thing you should notice is how great she is in portraying her female characters. Each of the heroine is portrayed as a powerful creature who challenges certain value in the society. Somebody who challenges the social system: the legal documentation for a single mother, child wellfare, woman's freedom to (not) become a mother. Yet they are also portrayed as a human who has the emotion and is in the urge to find their own happiness, pursue her dreams. An (often) oppressed woman who experiences lust, loneliness, and love-starved.
I was on a buddy read with Anggie @oryzzay on this book. Ah a book every (wo)man needs to read….
The book is available to purchase for an affordable price at @periplusid and @periplus_malioboro
BOOK 6: ABANDON BY SANGEETA BANDYOPADHYAY @sangeeta_sankhini for my #ReadTiltedAxis Month Translated by: Arunava Sinha @arunavasinha 📍India Published by @tiltedaxisbooks @tiltedaxispress
This story digs its claws in from the first pages and holds onto you until long after it is over! The book deals with the artist’s dilemma of balancing one’s passions with one’s social-familial obligations. Must an artist -- especially a woman artist -- sacrifice one for the other? Abandon’s narrator takes on two different personas: one of “I”, a writer dedicated to pursuing her art and romance and freedom, who is burdened by the presence of Roo, the son she already once abandoned; the other is of “Ishwari”, the mother struggling to make ends meet to care for her sick child. The language in this book is so powerful and I’m sure Arunava Sinha’s translation does Sangeeta Bandyopadhyay’s original justice! Describing the writing feels hyperbolic, but it really is absolutely jarring and raw and dynamic.
I found this book stunning, so it surprised me that I wasn’t able to find a ton written about it or Sangeeta Bandyopadhyay in English. While she has published many works in Bengali, only two of Bandyopadhyay’s novels have been translated and published in English thus far (though it looks like a third is on its way from Tilted Axis Press). I can’t wait to explore more from Bandyopadhyay and Sinha!
Absolutely heartbreaking story. I don’t think I was ever terrified of loneliness and life as I did after reading this novel. When I read the synopsis of the book, I thought it was going to be a nice story about women empowerment in Calcutta. «A powerful novel about a woman who runs away from home, seeking to free herself from the shackles of society and familial attachments…». But I ended up crying at 2 am in the morning, being scared of staying alone with a kid on my hands. I didn’t feel pity for any characters, not even struggling with her responsibilities of motherhood Ishwari. Neither do I judge her for abandoning Roo. Because what is proper motherhood? If you see you can’t handle your kid properly, isn’t it better to give him up? Perhaps, if she did it early, if she left Roo in the beginning, he would have been more healthy. But this book isn’t about motherhood, it’s about ways of life. It can drop you in the worst slums, it can give you caring people like Gourohori, and then take them, it can give you nice job, which will turn out your kid’s deathbed. I neither liked or disliked this book, I just feel sad. Sad that there’re actual people in this world, who actually have pretty similar problems, life. Abandoned.
At the start I found it difficult to get round the Ishwari/I change in narrative. I understood that it was self-referential but still found it jarring at times. Once I got into the groove of it though, I found it a really interesting way of getting the character’s thoughts and feelings across in retrospect.
This narrative allows the split of female identity to be portrayed, as Ishwari struggles with her identity as a mother, wanting to run away from that responsibility and life. When she finds her son has followed her she is forced to continue to care for him and provide for him as he becomes increasingly ill, whilst wanting to continue living her own life
It’s interesting to read about Ishwari’s lack of want of the position of motherhood, whilst seeing the childlike innocence of Roo. Ishwari was forced into the world, unwanted, with society saying his soul needed to be saved, but he ended up living a life of pain and suffering.
It’s a hard hitting one, and another book that I’m very glad Tilted Axis have in their collection.
Abandon is a very underground, intense work in Sangeeta's signature stark and straight-forward style, as I gather (this is my first read from this author). It is a detour from popular fiction and philosophy and boldly walks down dark alleys of human nature, a woman's predicament with motherhood - that it is a choice and not a duty which is what the society expects. The writing style goes through seasons of matter-of-fact narration, thoughtful inspiration brooding and ironic metaphors. Interspersed in every 3-4 pages comes one of those paragraphs that just words a life's reality so brilliantly that you immediately feel the need to jot in down somewhere. It is a good read if you are looking to come face-to-face with life's ugly truths and lies.
4.5 rounding down to 4 - my second novel by this author, and I much prefer it to The Yogini, although that one is good too.
Not a book I'd generally recommend, it's not very conventional, and there are lots of cultural, musical, gastronomic, and artistic references specific to India, but if you're okay with that, and don't mind the characters aren't "likeable," and it leans experimental in various regards, I think this is a highly rewarding and enriching read.
A woman attempting to release herself from males whose literal health depend on drawing on her limited life and love force. Powerful and moving and pitch black.
There are some excellent reviews on Goodreads which say what I'm thinking about this book better than I can. Another one that will require a reread to really get a handle on it.
'Just as war, unrest and treachery are the capital of the weapon manufacturing business, sterile humanity and its humiliation are the invaluable capital of literature. '
শিল্প আর জীবনকে আলাদা করতে গিয়েও এক করে ফেলা হয়তো শিল্পের পরিণতি। আমি এই ছোট জীবনে শিল্পকে উপলব্ধিটুকু করি জীবন দিয়ে। আর যে স্রষ্টা শিল্পের সে জীবনকে কতটুকু বিলিয়ে দিয়ে অনুভব করে সত্যই এ এক বিস্ময়। ভালো লেগেছে বইটি।