Review: Visappu Pranayam Unmadam | വിശപ്പ് പ്രണയം ഉന്മാദം

Visappu Pranayam Unmadam | വിശപ്പ് പ്രണയം ഉന്മാദം by Muhammed Abbas
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

കുറിപ്പ്: മലയാളത്തിലുള്ള നിരൂപണത്തിനു കുറച്ചു കൂടി കാത്തിരിക്കുക

There are people out there in this world, who live at the most deplorable existence; barely able to tide over day to day, with a half-full stomach, and a leaking roof over their heads. This is something you and I know, as well as see in mundane life. It might be during your daily commute to work, or while on a trip with family and friends, or just randomly when you’re on and about.

In most cases we tend to give them our attention perhaps for a scant few moments, until which time, our minds, the brilliant attention seeker that it is, would’ve switched over to some other thing which caught our interest. Rarely do we sit and ponder deeply about what brought them to such states, what their daily lives and struggles are, what their dreams and aspirations are.

While we might possess lofty aspirations, of being a millionaire or astronauts, those who lives on the fringes of society, would be more than content, if, at the end of the day, they can meet their needs, without having to borrow or beg, and have a modest amount set aside, for the inevitable periods of dearth.

We see through them, but never at them. Poverty and struggles we know are from the movies, where well fed actors from better backgrounds pretend, act to convey what it means to be poor. We know the textbook example of it, without ever having experienced or really understood what it entails.

You can blame yourself, born in a family, to parents who make sure to take care of your every need, every whim, every selfishness. Being guaranteed education and a decent job prospect afterwards, as if it’s your privilege. Complaining about your personal struggles in life, without considering the full scope of what you say. These are the standard hallmarks of growing up, and being human. We feel that the world is being grossly unfair to us, and begin bemoaning about whether or not there is a purpose in life. Why am I miserable? You might cry, without understanding what true misery is. I’m flat broke, you might despair, while still having money to pay for your netflix subscription. You are not alone in this unintentional hypocrisy. After all, collective misery is a comforting phenomenon which defines the continued endurance of the human species.

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The reason I decided to pick up this book, even though I knew nothing about the author, is because of a well-minded recommendation by a fellow bibliophile. Usually, I’m quite the pompous elitist, with a ‘refined’ palette, who only consumes works by the greats. But, you usually need people in life, to open avenues, which you are blind to due to your own prejudice and inadequacies. If you’re reading this friend, thanks for letting me experience this illuminating memoir.

Perhaps the biggest draw, when you start reading Mr. Abbas’s words, is the sheer amount of sincerity which he seems to put into each account, regardless of how minute they might be. Some of his accounts, in regards to his life, work, trials with intoxication and death, as well as the continued setbacks he had to suffer, due to the toxic inhumane behavior of others, is harrowing to imagine. He has every reason to hate the world, and curse the gods who cause such suffering to be allowed on one man. While the wounds of a lifetime still give him pause, he has learned to let them go, and to find the beauty in the simple things in life, to be grateful for being alive, his family, and his love of reading. In many ways, it’s quite heartening, his outlook on life, and it makes you wish for even a portion of the humanity and compassion which comes through his words.

They say that to be a good writer, you need to write as if to an audience of one; not being burdened down by thoughts of how others might perceive your words. In writing his life’s memoir, Mr. Abbas has adhered to his philosophy. He writes about everything from the illegal trades he was engaged for livelihood, the persistent mental health issues which drove him to suicide several times, his feelings of ecstacy and intoxication, of lust and desire at the simplest pleasures in life, to the feeling of sheer helplessness he felt, during the many times when the world kicked him while he was down.

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Abbas’ life oftentimes seems to follow the adage, when it rains, it pours. As one after the other his life is a cavalcade of tragedies, personal and otherwise. His formative years were spent in poverty, not able to afford an education, doing back breaking, oftentimes illegal trades, to get paid in pittance; with plenty of curses and spitting.

Adult life brought with it, its own share of aberrance, not made better by the daily struggles in life, or the cruel indifference of the world. Through all of that, Mr. Abbas, and his like minded family, weathered the daily storms, being grateful for the good days, and seeking comfort in each other’s love during times of dearth.

There is this one chapter, where he describes his second or third attempt at suicide, where he had decided to end it by downing a bottle of pills. But as fate would have it, or as his mother’s prayers were being heard, he instead spent that night reading ‘The Death of Ivan Ilyich’ by Tolstoy. Which gave him the clarity of mind to give up on this self destructive endeavor and to face life, regardless of difficulties. (This work was also something which was on my desk for a while now; this chapter gave me a chance to finally get through it. And it was an enlightening experience).

Other times we hear of his memories of his departed friends, with whom he’d spent years, who, one day, decided to end it all, by laying down on railway tracks, having no longer the will to wake up and keep living a miserable existence. The sense of loss, of tragedy, or agony which their loved ones are left with, now having to exist in a world devoid of them, it’s heart wrenching how Mr. Abbas is able to infuse these emotions into his words.

As the title indicates, the collection of memoirs is broadly divided between the author’s trysts with hunger, love and ecstasy. Also intermingled in between, are tales of people he had met in his colored and storied lifetime; of souls much like him, seeking to reach a safe shore, in the turbulent waters of life. Many of the anecdotes which he described were reminiscent of the stories of S.K. Pottekkatt, the way he used to write them in works such as ‘ ഒരു തെരുവിന്റെ കഥ Oru Theruvinte Kadha’. Reminding those of us, who’re content to live on the comfortable surface, there are still lives worth knowing, of exploring, of learning from, in this intricate tapestry of human existence we call life.

Mr. Abbas’ memoir is not an easy work to get through, as much of it is able to grab hold of that part of you, which you previously thought was cold and uncaring, and force you to feel. But nonetheless, I feel that it’s a work you should take time and effort to read, as it allows you to gain better understanding and empathy of the people around you, and help you grow as a decent human being.

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