Interview: Janani Kannan, translator – Hindustan Times

I was in utter disbelief for quite a long time. Then the euphoria set it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I could not stop smiling the next few days. It is quite possible that I was smiling while I was asleep too!

How did you end up working on this project? Were you approached with an offer to translate the novel, or did you propose this to Perumal Murugan and Penguin India?

This translation project came to me, thanks to the prolific Tamil writer Ambai (pseudonym used by CS Lakshmi). Ambai introduced me to Kannan Sundaram of the eminent Kalachuvadu Publications, who published Murguan’s novels in Tamil. I am deeply indebted to Kannan for giving me the opportunity to translate two of Murugan’s books.

What struck you about the plot, language and characters on your first reading of Aalanda Patchi?

Perumal Murugan’s style is always multilayered, and I tried to capture the main layers in my first reading. If you consider the pace of the book, it gallops in some parts, whereas it saunters in others, much like the bullock cart ride in the story. I enjoyed the contrast in how effortlessly Muthu bonded with Kuppan, versus the tenuousness of the bond with his own family built over a lifetime. I also particularly liked the portrayal of Muthu’s wife Peruma. And, despite all the uncertainties and ups and downs, I finished with a sense of hope.

What new layers, meanings and interpretations did you discover with subsequent readings?

Murugan excels at portraying complex human relationships and bringing out the various shades of grey. I started unpacking this first. The bitter and spiteful relationship laced with jealousy that the mother-in-law has with Peruma, the blind love and faith that Muthu had for his family he struggles to let go, even when he knows he was wronged. No one is absolutely right, yet everyone’s actions are relatable, if not justifiable. I quite liked Kuppan’s character, his anecdotes and actions covering a full range of human emotions from humour, loyalty and passion to melancholy, desolation and regret. I read them as small pauses in the rhythm of the main story. Additionally, I found interesting nuances on the caste and class setup sprinkled throughout the book.

To what extent did your own background as a person of Indian heritage living in the United States help you connect with themes of migration and displacement explored in the novel?

Being a migrant myself, I could immediately relate to many of the anxieties and hopes of Muthu, when he sets off on his own journey. I also hail from a family of agrarian people, and grew up spending summer times in my ancestral village where farming was central to my grandfather’s life. Some of my extended family members still practise farming. I was easily able to relate to the deep reverence for the land that comes with being a farmer. I felt deep empathy for Muthu and was able to appreciate his trepidations when first encountering a completely new community, having to kowtow to their habits and mannerisms, the pain of having to choose to move away from a tight-knit family, his expectation that his own brother would visit him sometime and so on. Additionally, the COVID-19 pandemic hit when I was working on this novel. I saw and heard of the grimness of migrant workers’ experiences when they got displaced due to the sudden lack of work. That affected my sensibility when working on this novel.

How was the experience of working with Perumal Murugan and your editor Manasi Subramaniam on this translation? What kind of inputs did you find most valuable while working on different drafts?

Murugan is an amazingly approachable person. I have reached out to him many times with the smallest of questions, and he has always been available for me. Not only during this translation, but this has been my experience also from other projects that I have had the honour of working with him on. I consider myself very fortunate to have worked with Manasi and her team. They have been very professional, extraordinarily patient and have guided and helped me throughout this project. I may have driven them to their wits’ ends with my reiterations and I am immensely grateful for their perseverance and thoroughness of work. Manasi also came up with the title Fire Bird. I am also particularly grateful for Shreya Punj’s insights very early in the project.

You have translated Eru Veyyil, another novel by Perumal Murugan, into English as Rising Heat. The relationship that characters share with the land they are separated from is intimate and intense in both novels. What were the challenges involved in translating emotions into English?

Both novels have autobiographical facets, one more than the other, as I understand it. That makes them both feel very intimate. Notwithstanding the fact that Rising Heat was Murugan’s first book, in my opinion, it also portrayed emotions a lot rawer and stylistically more head-on, possibly because many of the characters were based on actual people and the emotions likely very personal to him. It proved to be quite challenging to replicate the level of intensity in the translation. Fire Bird, while just as intense, was more nuanced in its approach, to me. The challenge in this translation was not to mellow it down too much to lose that fire.

How does your training as a marathon runner show up when you work with words? Does running often help you get unstuck and generate new ways of approaching a chunk of text?

My training as a marathoner helps me bring discipline to my otherwise chaotic lifestyle. Both translation work as well as training for a marathon are significant time commitments and I need that discipline for both. And of course, when I go for a run, I get precious, uninterrupted head space to ponder about the characters or think about how I relish a particular part of a text and how I could capture that in my translation. I don’t think I would get that by sitting at my desk where my efforts are more concerted.

You are also an architect and a singer. Architects work primarily with space, whereas singers work primarily with time. How do all these creative pursuits enrich each other?

I think it is impossible to separate the innate connection between time and space, be it running, design, singing, writing, even bringing up a child. What I get from my architectural background is the confidence in creative problem solving. Music lets my mind rise above the fray and the immediate care of daily life almost instantly, and is often my way of recharging. And I benefit from both these in my translation efforts.

What are you working on? Which other Tamil writers would you like to translate?

I am working on translating a few short stories for a compilation that the immensely gifted writer Perundevi is working on. There are so many great works in Tamil that are yet to receive the attention they deserve. I am very fortunate to be part of the community that is bringing them to the world.

Chintan Girish Modi is a freelance writer, journalist and book reviewer.

What feelings did you go through when you learnt that Fire Bird won the JCB Prize for Literature?

I was in utter disbelief for quite a long time. Then the euphoria set it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I could not stop smiling the next few days. It is quite possible that I was smiling while I was asleep too!

How did you end up working on this project? Were you approached with an offer to translate the novel, or did you propose this to Perumal Murugan and Penguin India?

This translation project came to me, thanks to the prolific Tamil writer Ambai (pseudonym used by CS Lakshmi). Ambai introduced me to Kannan Sundaram of the eminent Kalachuvadu Publications, who published Murguan’s novels in Tamil. I am deeply indebted to Kannan for giving me the opportunity to translate two of Murugan’s books.

What struck you about the plot, language and characters on your first reading of Aalanda Patchi?

Perumal Murugan’s style is always multilayered, and I tried to capture the main layers in my first reading. If you consider the pace of the book, it gallops in some parts, whereas it saunters in others, much like the bullock cart ride in the story. I enjoyed the contrast in how effortlessly Muthu bonded with Kuppan, versus the tenuousness of the bond with his own family built over a lifetime. I also particularly liked the portrayal of Muthu’s wife Peruma. And, despite all the uncertainties and ups and downs, I finished with a sense of hope.

What new layers, meanings and interpretations did you discover with subsequent readings?

Murugan excels at portraying complex human relationships and bringing out the various shades of grey. I started unpacking this first. The bitter and spiteful relationship laced with jealousy that the mother-in-law has with Peruma, the blind love and faith that Muthu had for his family he struggles to let go, even when he knows he was wronged. No one is absolutely right, yet everyone’s actions are relatable, if not justifiable. I quite liked Kuppan’s character, his anecdotes and actions covering a full range of human emotions from humour, loyalty and passion to melancholy, desolation and regret. I read them as small pauses in the rhythm of the main story. Additionally, I found interesting nuances on the caste and class setup sprinkled throughout the book.

To what extent did your own background as a person of Indian heritage living in the United States help you connect with themes of migration and displacement explored in the novel?

Being a migrant myself, I could immediately relate to many of the anxieties and hopes of Muthu, when he sets off on his own journey. I also hail from a family of agrarian people, and grew up spending summer times in my ancestral village where farming was central to my grandfather’s life. Some of my extended family members still practise farming. I was easily able to relate to the deep reverence for the land that comes with being a farmer. I felt deep empathy for Muthu and was able to appreciate his trepidations when first encountering a completely new community, having to kowtow to their habits and mannerisms, the pain of having to choose to move away from a tight-knit family, his expectation that his own brother would visit him sometime and so on. Additionally, the COVID-19 pandemic hit when I was working on this novel. I saw and heard of the grimness of migrant workers’ experiences when they got displaced due to the sudden lack of work. That affected my sensibility when working on this novel.

How was the experience of working with Perumal Murugan and your editor Manasi Subramaniam on this translation? What kind of inputs did you find most valuable while working on different drafts?

Murugan is an amazingly approachable person. I have reached out to him many times with the smallest of questions, and he has always been available for me. Not only during this translation, but this has been my experience also from other projects that I have had the honour of working with him on. I consider myself very fortunate to have worked with Manasi and her team. They have been very professional, extraordinarily patient and have guided and helped me throughout this project. I may have driven them to their wits’ ends with my reiterations and I am immensely grateful for their perseverance and thoroughness of work. Manasi also came up with the title Fire Bird. I am also particularly grateful for Shreya Punj’s insights very early in the project.

You have translated Eru Veyyil, another novel by Perumal Murugan, into English as Rising Heat. The relationship that characters share with the land they are separated from is intimate and intense in both novels. What were the challenges involved in translating emotions into English?

Both novels have autobiographical facets, one more than the other, as I understand it. That makes them both feel very intimate. Notwithstanding the fact that Rising Heat was Murugan’s first book, in my opinion, it also portrayed emotions a lot rawer and stylistically more head-on, possibly because many of the characters were based on actual people and the emotions likely very personal to him. It proved to be quite challenging to replicate the level of intensity in the translation. Fire Bird, while just as intense, was more nuanced in its approach, to me. The challenge in this translation was not to mellow it down too much to lose that fire.

How does your training as a marathon runner show up when you work with words? Does running often help you get unstuck and generate new ways of approaching a chunk of text?

My training as a marathoner helps me bring discipline to my otherwise chaotic lifestyle. Both translation work as well as training for a marathon are significant time commitments and I need that discipline for both. And of course, when I go for a run, I get precious, uninterrupted head space to ponder about the characters or think about how I relish a particular part of a text and how I could capture that in my translation. I don’t think I would get that by sitting at my desk where my efforts are more concerted.

You are also an architect and a singer. Architects work primarily with space, whereas singers work primarily with time. How do all these creative pursuits enrich each other?

I think it is impossible to separate the innate connection between time and space, be it running, design, singing, writing, even bringing up a child. What I get from my architectural background is the confidence in creative problem solving. Music lets my mind rise above the fray and the immediate care of daily life almost instantly, and is often my way of recharging. And I benefit from both these in my translation efforts.

What are you working on? Which other Tamil writers would you like to translate?

I am working on translating a few short stories for a compilation that the immensely gifted writer Perundevi is working on. There are so many great works in Tamil that are yet to receive the attention they deserve. I am very fortunate to be part of the community that is bringing them to the world.

Chintan Girish Modi is a freelance writer, journalist and book reviewer.