‘A Respectable Woman’: Tracing Kohima’s chequered history

Easterine Kire’s A Respectable Woman is a welcome addition to the canon of war fiction written by women. Poet-author Kire is the first Naga novelist to write in English. Her new novel sensitively gauges the psychological impact of war on a people and meticulously recreates life in the post-WWII years in Nagaland, following the victory of the Allies in the Battle of Kohima. The narrative, divided into two sections, unravels through the memories of Azuo, who was a child when the Japanese invaded Kohima in 1944, and traces the trajectory of her daughter Kevinuo’s life in a changed Nagaland.

“The present decade possibly offers the last opportunity to record the life of Kohima in the post-war years from its survivors’ memories. Recreating pre-war Kohima using their memories was a challenging task but it was not impossible,” says Kire in the end notes of the book. She is a steadfast chronicler of Nagaland’s tumultuous history. Her novel Sky is My Father: A Naga Village Remembered (2003) focuses on the British-Naga conflict in the 19th century, while another novel, Mari (2011), is set against the backdrop of the Japanese invasion of Kohima during WWII.

 

As a child, Kevinuo, the narrator of A Respectable Woman , hears stories of the war and many “strange and fascinating things” about British rule from her grandparents. But “most of their stories were about the ghosts of young soldiers who came back to haunt the living... They didn’t want to die, of course they tried to come back and live their lives over again.” These stories had acquired the quality of myth through telling and retelling, and they seemed far removed from everyday reality to little Kevinuo.

In the winter of 1979, when Kevinuo is no longer a child, her mother Azuo suddenly starts talking to her about the war days. This is the moment when the past comes alive with startling clarity. Along with Kevinuo, the reader is bound to be swept away by the swirling currents of history as Azuo paints a poignant picture of lives devastated by bloodshed, and the community’s efforts to salvage a semblance of normalcy from the ruins.

Kire deftly weaves together Azuo’s reminiscences with Kevinuo’s growing-up years in modern Nagaland. As Kevinuo confronts the ghosts of the past through her mother’s memories, she is also compelled to find a way to navigate the troubled waters of the present. Political unrest, crackdowns on the Naga Underground by the Indian Army, civilian shootings, recurrent curfews, rise of vigilantism, the failings of the Church, alcohol abuse and the alarming rise of domestic violence — Nagaland is plagued by a host of new problems in Kevinuo’s time.

Amidst the chaos, Kevinuo draws sustenance from her bonds with the strong women in her life: Her grandmother, her aunt, her mother, the outspoken family friend Atsa Nisou, who freely hands out instructions to everybody on how to raise a child, “especially if it was female”, and ends up becoming a big part of Kevinuo’s childhood. The story of Kevinuo (and her family) is nestled within the larger narrative of Nagaland’s evolution. Births, deaths, anniversaries, christenings, marriages — the business of life plays out against the backdrop of defining moments in Nagaland’s history. Kire is adept at blending the personal with the political, at presenting the reader with the big picture while telling a nuanced story, seeped in intimate moments and telling detail.

The relationship between Kevinuo and her little brother, Ato, is delicately drawn. From the day Ato is born, Kevinuo feels protective of her sibling. She skips school to help Azuo take care of the new baby and sacrifices her playtime for his sake. Azuo fondly calls Kevinuo her “little helper”. When the baby starts bawling because he is afraid of the dark and being left alone in a room, Kevinuo resolves to watch over him as much as she can. The brother-sister bond stays strong through the years. Kevinuo remembers the look her father gave her when he was on his deathbed, which she interpreted as a “plea to look after her brother”. She fulfils her duties as a daughter and elder sister perfectly well while remaining fiercely independent.

Kevinuo’s refusal to be tied down by a conventional marriage or marry a man only for his financial prospects, as well as the life-changing, unconventional decision she takes towards the end of the novel are perfectly in character. “My chances of becoming a part of respectable society through marriage are very slim,” she says. “Or are they?” she jokes. “My rich, old widower has not showed up yet. We still have a laugh about that, saying he will finally come hobbling with his walking stick apologising for the lateness.”

In the strong-willed and independent Kevinuo’s choices, we get to catch a glimpse of a changing Nagaland.

Vineetha Mokkil is the author of A Happy Place and Other Stories