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By:

Rupali Sethi

6 January 2026 at 8:01:30 pm

A Quiet Mirror of Life

Literature need not depend on extraordinary events to uncover extraordinary truths. A fleeting encounter, a childhood memory, a family ritual or an apparently insignificant incident can expose the deeper tensions of human nature. Sundar Viswam’s Mortal Remains and Other Stories, a collection of eleven stories, takes this route. Love, friendship, family, ambition, migration, morality, betrayal, prejudice and destiny emerge not through grand dramas but through ordinary lives. Viswam’s...

A Quiet Mirror of Life

Literature need not depend on extraordinary events to uncover extraordinary truths. A fleeting encounter, a childhood memory, a family ritual or an apparently insignificant incident can expose the deeper tensions of human nature. Sundar Viswam’s Mortal Remains and Other Stories, a collection of eleven stories, takes this route. Love, friendship, family, ambition, migration, morality, betrayal, prejudice and destiny emerge not through grand dramas but through ordinary lives. Viswam’s particular talent is to find the consequential in the commonplace: a kite, a wedding invitation, a rumour or a sudden turn of fate becomes a way into larger questions about how people behave. The title story, “Mortal Remains”, sets the reflective tone of the collection by asking what survives an experience in memory, in creativity and in the emotional lives of others. The stories repeatedly return to that question. What people carry with them, and what they leave behind in others, often matters more than the event itself. Characterisation is perhaps the collection’s greatest strength. Viswam does not arrange his people conveniently into heroes and villains. They are contradictory, ambitious, vulnerable and morally uncertain. In “Mortal Remains”, a writer’s compulsive attachment to his art becomes an exploration of creative obsession, loneliness and the uneasy relationship between life and artistic expression. “The Red Kite” turns childhood friendship and rivalry into a painful memory, showing how an apparently innocent episode can acquire significance over a lifetime. “Manda oh my Manda!” inhabits the uncertain territory between affection and self-interest, while “The Invitation” uses an ordinary social ritual to expose family bitterness. “Falling Out” examines the slow deterioration of friendship when concealed perceptions come to the surface; “Brother in Need” places adolescence against a backdrop of corruption and insecurity. The psychological force of these stories comes less from explanation than from behaviour. Fear, guilt, longing, jealousy and regret surface in dialogue, hesitation and silence. Viswam trusts such details to do much of the work, allowing his characters to reveal themselves rather than having the author explain them. The collection also acquires a wider social and philosophical dimension. “The God of Chance” considers the role of coincidence and destiny in human relationships. “Regrettably, Yours” offers a perceptive account of the immigrant experience, where professional achievement does not necessarily settle questions of identity and belonging. “A Matter of Principle” explores the uneasy distance between conviction and practical reality, while “Just Token” examines how moral compromise can begin with choices that appear too small to matter. In “Pleasanton”, the rumour of an Indian lottery winner unsettles a community and brings prejudice, aspiration, insecurity and curiosity to the surface. The common thread is consequence. Small incidents can produce disproportionate emotional effects; private compromises can reveal larger moral questions. Society, in Viswam’s hands, is not merely a backdrop but a mechanism for exposing character. His interest lies in the point at which chance becomes consequence and an everyday decision acquires moral weight. Viswam writes with clarity and restraint, moving comfortably between tenderness, irony, humour, social observation and introspection. His vocabulary serves the story rather than calling attention to itself. Carefully chosen details establish atmosphere without burdening the narrative with description. There is an appealing economy to the writing. That restraint is particularly effective in moments that might otherwise invite melodrama. Readers are consequently free to make their own judgments rather than being directed towards them. The result is prose that is accessible without being thin, and psychologically attentive without becoming ponderous. Ultimately, Mortal Remains and Other Stories succeeds because it treats human beings as complicated creatures rather than moral specimens. Its characters love, fear, desire, compromise, remember and regret, often simultaneously. Viswam does not hurry to judge them; circumstances and choices are allowed to expose their contradictions. The title therefore assumes a wider significance. What remains after an experience is rarely the experience itself. It is the memory, the emotional imprint and the alteration it leaves behind. Viswam finds these residues in ordinary lives and turns them into occasions for reflection. His stories suggest that profound literature need not search for exceptional lives. It can begin with ordinary people, provided the writer observes them with sufficient patience, empathy and curiosity. That is what makes the collection linger. Its stories do not offer easy moral conclusions. Instead, they encourage readers to recognise familiar emotions in unfamiliar lives — and perhaps to see their own lives a little differently. (The writer is a literary critic, book reviewer and scholar of Hindi and English literature.)

Why is Mamata Seeing Ghost of Bangladesh?

Writer: Romita Datta
Romita Datta
Aug 27, 2024
4 min read

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

Why is Mamata Seeing Ghost of Bangladesh?

Mamata is seeing a ghost of Bangladesh behind the massive outrage and waves of protest over rape and murder of the trainee doctor. And the reasons are many.

It’s been over a fortnight. Yet with each passing day the voice of protest is getting louder and stronger. From the streets of Kolkata it’s pouring into roads of hinterland. The cry for justice for a rape victim has consolidated into a wail of demands to set a lot of wrongdoings right. Here in lies the fear and trepidation. Wasn’t the issue that brought the youth of Bangladesh out on the thoroughfares a simple, innocent one of quota reform?

The chief minister of Bengal, known for understanding the pulse of people better than many, was quick to read the signages floating in the political horizon.

The most obvious reason for her to be tensed is that both the regime change in Bangladesh and the mass protest in Bengal, were student-driven to begin with. The two incidents---end of 15 year old Sheikh Hasina government and turbulence in West Bengal, over the heinous crime, falling back to back, the first on August 5th and the latter from August 9th onwards, give natural scope for comparisons. More so, because in both the cases the movement strayed beyond an affected constituency to include aggrieved people at large, cutting across socio-economic demography. If the quota reform protest started by students in Bangladesh became a mass uprising against an autocratic regime, the campaign demanding justice for the rape victim and overall safety and security of women in Mamata Banerjee’s Bengal soon snowballed into a movement of no-confidence against the government. Slogans--”Mamata must resign” also got floated in social media much in line with the call for ouster of Sheikh Hasina. In fact “Resignation of Hasina” became the single point agenda into which all other fringe demands coalesced.

Incidentally, even before people started drawing parallels, that there could be a thread of commonality in the way the upheaval in Bangladesh and Bengal played out, Mamata was quick to point out that the Opposition were trying to pull off a Bangladesh by politicizing the tragic incident: “A coordinated approach has been executed by the BJP and the CPIM with support from the Centre to defame Bengal and exploit the situation....They want to make a Bangladesh here. They are taking cues from student unrest in Bangladesh and are attempting to capture similarly. I have no longing for the chair. I came here to serve people.”

Not only Mamata, her political lieutenants are consistently equating the turmoil in Bengal with the mayhem in Bangladesh. Cabinet minister for North Bengal development Udayan Guha threatened to take stern action against those, who would be trying to exploit the situation by emulating a Bangladesh like movement. “ Even after the hospital was vandalised, the police did not open fire on anyone. The police will not allow a Bangladesh type situation. We will not allow Bengal to turn into Bangladesh, Guha thundered.

Is the government’s fear unfounded?

Apart from the similarities on ground zero, as to how and where the future course of events are heading to, there are ample reasons for Bengal to mull on-- as to what led to a Bangladesh like boiling point. To begin with, it’ll be appropriate to talk of Bangladesh and the prevailing situation, that made the students’ protest become big in magnitude. The students were out on the streets because of a high reservation in public jobs. Unemployment and stagnant job market in private sector coupled with a high rate of inflation drove the educated youth to rebel against the government.

But soon the students found enormous number of sympathisers, who were equally at the receiving end. According to Bangladesh citizens, the last two terms of the Sheikh Hasina government were a mockery of democracy. Even elections would be compromised. As Hasina grew from strength to strength, she politicized institutions. The rank and file of police owed allegiance to the ruling dispensation. Extortion, harrassment and raids by police and people in power became rampant. An atmosphere of fear and repression reigned and people got restless to overthrow the government.

Politicization of institutions has been happening in Mamata government too. Allegations are quite strong that police in Bengal functions at the beck and call of political bosses. The lapses and alleged loopholes on the part of police in handling the rape and murder of the young doctor have yet again revealed a sense of confused or misplaced loyalty.

But above everything else both Hasina and Mamata governments allegedly seem to have twined in accepting corruption as a way of life. In Bangladesh jobs of primary and secondary teachers got sold at premium, Rs 10-12 lakh in the Hasina regime. Even police had to pay up for prized postings and transfers. In Bengal busting of the teacher’s recruitment scam has revealed how unsuccessful and ineligible candidates got government jobs in schools in exchange of bribes.

Similarities are multiple and inescapable. Mamata has good reasons to be apprehensive. It’s not only she, who can see and connect the dots. People, out on the streets, clamoring for justice, can see a providential pattern somewhere in the unfolding of future events in these two places-- Bangladesh and Bengal. True, they share more than 2,217 odd km of border. They share the same umbilical cord, other than language, culture, ethos, icons. Even emotions are the same. So she cannot take any risk.

(The writer is a senior jounalist based in Kolkata. Views personal)

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