Gothic touch to gender politics

“Whatever you do, Potol, whatever you do, do not  — I tell you, do not go out into the woods on a new moon.” So begins Shakchunni, Arnab Ray’s historical gothic novel set in pre-independence Bengal when the entire state is in the grip of famine. The dire warning with which the book opens sets the tone for the novel, and the figure of Shakchunni  — a spirit in search of a happily married life of a woman  — hovers over it, adding to its foreboding, ominous atmosphere.

Shakchunni successfully uses the thrills and frills of a supernatural gothic novel to pose questions of gender and power relations before its readers. The setting of the Raibahadur’s household is typically patriarchal: he calls all the shots. His wife, the bouthakuran, we are told, had learnt early on in their marriage that she needs to earn her husband’s love. This has turned her into a warped, cruel woman whose slaps tend to “leave impressions on the cheek and mind of the victim.”

The other women, be it the newly-wed Soudamini or the cunning Handi (called so after the pot which burned and disfigured her face for life), have to survive in this household solely based on their wits as they try to outsmart each other to maintain their supremacy. The two sons of the house are in no better place either. While Narayanpratap is considered a weakling by his father, Rudrapratap is launched into a career in black-marketing to prove his worth. It’s only Shakchunni that the Raibahadur is afraid of even as he does unspeakable things in league with the local police superintendent to get rid of the spirit. In a world of suppression, exploitation and tyranny, it’s only the spirit that seems to have the power to restore balance.

Shakchunni never preaches, loses sight of its plot or compromises with its twists and turns. The epilogue deserves a special mention. It ties up all the loose ends and is guaranteed to make the readers gasp out loud with its revelations.