The existence of an elderly woman in her eighties, who has deconstructed the idea and functions of a mirror, is definitely “exotic”. The “unusual” Aynaburi from Mehedi Ullah’s debut novel Gosoler Pukurshomuho (The Bathing Ponds) uses one of her most precious wedding gifts, an ancient mirror, to summon a jinn every Tuesday. More interestingly, the author while creating a character like her has achieved a rare feat by depicting someone who is simultaneously exotic and spontaneous. This paradox, I think, becomes the strongest feature of this novel. Much like Aynaburi, most of the characters from the other chapters—Faria, Hamja Mia, Zulkar Nine, Horaj, and Almas for instance—are unique enough to be noticed and remembered. At the same time, they sound very usual and ordinary.
Gosoler Pukurshomuho is divided into sixteen short chapters, each with its own title. The writer experiments with narrative techniques and settings of the novel. The chapters, as a result, can be read individually as well as constituent parts of a longer story. He has deliberately differentiated the narrator from the protagonist. A more attentive reading reveals that along with multiple unreliable voices narrating the story, there is an absence of a single protagonist. In the style of a TV show with an ensemble cast, Ullah has concentrated on each and every character with almost equal importance.
Another distinctive feature of this text is the postmodern co-existence of fading reality and vibrant fantasy. Dreams play a vital role in giving the reader a detour around “the unreal”. Through parallel references to Sigmund Freud and available folk interpretations of dreams, Gosoler Pukurshomuho attempts at exploring both the western and eastern fantasies. Yet Mehedi Ullah’s “unreal” representation is neither fairy-tale-like “fantasy”, nor a “magic realistic” interpretation. The world depicted in the novel, along with the dreams, rather seems to be a natural one with an unavoidable journey into the “collective unconscious” of the characters who populate this novel.
The linguistic diversity of the book is commendable. From the serious, conservative tone of the scriptures to the most informal Facebook texting, the language of Gosoler Pukurshomuho remains effectively organic. While constructing visual, olfactory and auditory images, sometimes the storyteller acts like a romantic poet.
“Water and water everywhere. Someone here is dying on a floating raft while a raven is eagerly waiting.” (My Translation)
The narrators, all of whom feel an urge to look back, eventually dig out a good number of indigenous contents. Mehedi Ullah quite unapologetically refers to local myths, legends, and other folk components, e.g. Manasa the Serpent Goddess, Maktab (an Islamic version of pre-primary education), Rehel (a stand on which the Quran is kept during recitation), and most importantly, the rural water bodies. The title itself refers to a dozen ponds across Bangladesh. The first narrator decides to revisit the ponds he has romantic memories of. The ponds also stand as a metaphor for the universal idea of time. The twelve ponds allude to a twelve-hour clock.
A noticeable weakness of the novel is also about allusions. Direct and unnecessary references to various texts and historical events, I think, have at times interrupted the narrative flow.
The novel ends with a reluctant but engaging tone. After revolving around multiple centres, the story finally decides to move away by not moving. And dreams, paradoxically, become the novel’s escape from “the unreal”.
Abdullah Al Mukatdir is Associate Professor of English Literature at Jatiya Kabi Kazi Nazrul Islam University.
Gosoler Pukurshomuho
By Mehedi Ullah
Published by Oitijjhya Dhaka
February 2019
Cover image by Dhruba Esh
Length: 104 pages; Price: BDT 175
