“The Ammuchi Puchi” by Sharanya Manivannan and Nerina Canzi
A book about grandmothers and the magic they hold.
I remember my grandmother for her stories. I suspect most people may share a similar fondness.
Her tale of two brothers- one wise and meek, the other foolish and greedy, is a staple recipe for nostalgia in my home. Looking back, those stories do not really appear all that great- the literary critic in me deconstructing them for their simplicity, overbearing moral values, and automatic subscription to a semi-conservative status-quo-loving worldview.
Six-year old me begged to differ, however.
Sometimes I wonder if the writer I aspire to become stemmed first from the wonder-eyed boy who used to irk his grandmother for yet another tale.
Indian Writer, Argentinian Illustrator
I have written in the past about my affinity for picture books and how they are a powerful medium. In Cinnamon, I argued that Neil Gaiman as a British writer was setting a powerful tale in a seemingly-Indian setup, backed up by an Indian illustrator.
In this book, the roles are reversed.
We have an Indian storyteller scripting the canvas which would then be inked by an Argentinian illustrator. I find this deeply exciting. Such a collaboration brings out the diversity and shared storytelling ethos, not to mention unique artistic techniques, from both the societies that the respective creators hail from. This precise kind of coming-together is something that the creator economy of the Internet era encourages and may just be the panacea for our more empathy-less hours.
Ajji Kathe
A few months back the publishing unit of the college I work for released a promising book in Kannada about folk-tales. Amidst the many topics of the book was a promising one on “Ajji-Kathe” or “grandmother-tales”. This book is essentially a meta-commentary on such a tale with the grandmother’s ability to weave stories spinning the simple yet emotional plot of the picture book forward.
It is not always a rosy picture though. Indian societies are often fraught with grandmother characters who seem to uphold a worldview of the yesteryears, championing outdated gender roles and constantly reminding the “educated youngsters” of their roots. Romanticizing only the storytelling ability of grandmothers and not talking about this aspect of their identity would be a critical disservice.
Likewise, pigeonholing an aged woman whose offspring just happened to have given birth to more offspring, only as a “grandmother” or a “ajji”, thereby ignoring the other multitudes of her personality is likewise a wrong that a critical reader ought to grapple with.
Not that this book does any of that. It is a pleasant read and probably an excellent companion read with a child, but why should that stop us from reading into it?
Having said that, please do not tell your grandmother of my more critical insights, instead read this book with her. Do share this newsletter and do not forget where stories come from.