Appupen could possibly mean Appu’s pen; or, if you know Malayalam, it could mean granddad. George Mathan aka Appupen, the creator of the graphic novel The Snake and the Lotus , does sound like the archetypal grandparent. He consciously builds a spine-chilling world where weird stories happen to weirder people, and, in the process, examines the realms of dystopia in contemporariness.
No diminutive endeavour, that. And Appupen, the visual artist-turned-writer, has done it by creating his own myth of the bizarre Halahala world and its inhabitants. Perhaps an introduction to Halahala and the previous editions of that world is in order, for the benefit of the not-yet-initiated reader.
Appupen first combined the format of the graphic novel and the genre of alternative fiction in
Halahala, as Hindu mythology enthusiasts will know, is the deadly poison that emanated during the churning of the Ocean of Milk. This poison had the power to destroy all creations. Lord Shiva promptly swallowed the poison to protect the universe, and his consort stopped it from going down his throat, subsequently killing the universes within him. The Lord thus became the blue-throated, the Neelakantha. In Appupen’s primordial Halahala, which is suspiciously like the planet Earth, the inhabitants of that dark fantasy world are in a daze of raging consumerism. The Snake and the Lotus is the latest in the series of Halahala tales.
Life as the readers knew hitherto in Halahala, is closing down in the new novel. Humans and machines are on an unchecked siege of nature. Halahala is now inhabited by such beings as the Greyfolks, of the Wastelands, who believe anything they are told, are on a diet of Lotus Milk and dream of the White Towers where the Godlings live, and think they are fortunate to serve the masters of the Great White City. The ‘grey’ and ‘white’ connotations are not merely about colours. They are also about identity, and occupy entirely different worlds within worlds.
The humans are controlled by an artificial intelligence unit. Only the Silent Green becomes aware that the resources are depleting to the minimum. It sends out a ‘help’ call, and someone hears it — a human girl who has not quite lost the human touch. Can they save the universe between them? That’s the conflict of the story.
There’s conflict already built in the previous editions of the Halahala, so it’s like changing gears for a steeper climb, and the graphics do this brilliantly in painstakingly-detailed strokes. And it’s not about environmental catastrophes alone, as the obvious strokes show, there are also hints to class, caste and gender conflicts.
Quite in contrast to his earlier versions of Halahala, Appupen, who has until now been a man of no words, adds a few to his sharp sketches. The direct and simple construction of the text connects the story instantly to the reader.
Look at the opening:
“The call echoes across the world, but no one listens. The green is dying.”
It goes on to say,
“Humans have long forgotten the language.”
What little script is used in the book is curt and satiric, and one cannot but repeat some more of them for their contemporary relevance and references.
“When the time came to choose, humans had turned to their machines. Machines made new cities for them. And humans think they are still the masters.”
“Language has a history of creating conflict.”
The font is not quite what we see in regular graphic fiction, it’s nothing familiar or even fantastic. The typography is hand-drawn, unusual and perhaps indicates the POV of the narrative voice. It’s very alien in its tenor. Hollywood tones? Well, not really! It’s just something one expects to hear in a dystopian story. And it works.
The artwork features full-page panels of woodcut art in black and white, running into approximately 260 unnumbered pages of brilliant, meticulous, imposing, rich and solid images. The dark that dominates the pages adds to the story’s sinister ambience. It’s almost like 1984 , but in dark, disturbing and perfectly-placed strokes. Having read Appupen’s books in the reverse order, one cannot but marvel at the systematic improvement in the sheer quality of the graphics. The focus and sharpness of the artwork have taken on a new strength in the later works.
Don’t expect to read The Snake and the Lotus in one go — it has many layers and demands several reads. You are more likely to linger along the innumerable black-and-white streets of the book and stop short at grabbing the story pony for a fast-paced ride.
Published by the new Amazon imprint Context, and supported over the years of its creation by India Foundation for the Arts, The Snake and the Lotus is undoubtedly a black-and- white classic.
The Lotus is a returning motif in the book. The Snake? Read and find out.
Suneetha Balakrishnan is a writer, translator and independent journalist