The Ivory Throne:
Chronicles of the House of Travencore by Manu S Pillai
Review by Divya Dubey
Manu S Pillai’s The
Ivory Throne begins with twenty pages of diligently researched history of
Kerala that forms the introduction to the book. A neat chart showing the family
tree of the House of Travencore follows next.
At the end are 131 pages of the author’s exhaustive notes and
bibliography. In between are high quality coloured inserts showcasing
photographs of the major characters in Pillai’s grand narrative. Even a cursory
glance makes one forget that it is a debut work by a writer in his
mid-twenties.
Apart from being a chronicle of Kerala’s history, the book
brings forward several appealing episodes, social norms and even anecdotes from
the times. One realizes that the scheming vamps and villains in today’s soap
operas do have precedents in real-life historical events. The introduction says
about Martanda Varma: ‘He set an eerie example for instance, by slaughtering
his own cousins in cold blood when they refused to fall in line with him.’ Not
every Kerala ruler followed in his footsteps though discontent, dissent,
political intrigue, deceit and duplicity – and even scheming with the help of
black magic, does remain a constant across the five generations covered in the
book.
At the centre is the story of Sethu Laxmi Bayi, the senior
maharani and regent of Travencore, granddaughter of the renowned artist Raja
Ravi Varma (1924-32) – and her rival, her cousin Sethu Parvathi Bayi, the
junior maharani. The reader is told that
in pre-colonial times Kerala had a matrilineal society, where a family ‘did not
take after the patriarchal model of man, wife and their children’, but instead
consisted ‘of man, sister, and her children’. The Rani was not the Maharajah’s
wife, but his sister or niece or great-niece. However, it is also mentioned
that as early as in 1747, during Martanda Varma’s time, when Attingal was
merged with Travencore, the Ranis had already been reduced to ‘gloried impotency’
and the male members of the dynasty were gaining dominance.
When she was five, Sethu laxmi Bayi was ‘propelled into the
seat of the Senior Rani of Travencore, becoming the youngest person to occupy
that exalted station in all its history.’ At ten years of age Sethu Laxmi Bayi chose
Rama Varma, younger brother of the more popular Apollo, Rajaraja Varma, as her
consort – a choice that the majority in the palace viewed as a ‘grave nuptial
error’. However, in the later years the Rani confessed that she had been
overwhelmed by Rajaraja Varma when she first saw him, that she was ‘positively
intimidated by his exceptional appearance’.
In an interview with The
Hindu Pillai mentions that he undertook research on the maharani’s personal
history because he found she had been singled out amongst the long line of
monarchs royalists had always adored. At Sethu Laxmi Bayi, even the best of
them found themselves floundering. His curiosity about her led him to seek answers
that ended up in this 700-page volume. Pillai’s preoccupation with Sethu Laxmi
Bayi’s life, personality and philosophy is quite evident in his portrayal of
her. Equally clear is his partiality towards her vis-à-vis her rival and cousin,
Sethu Parvathi Bayi, whom he has shown unequivocally as a rather dark character
from the beginning.
The rivalry and ill will between the sisters Mahaprabha and
Kochukunji carried forward to the two adopted daughters, Sethu Laxmi Bayi and
Sethu Parvathi Bayi. Eventually, it culminated into such intense hatred that
Kochukunji ‘was discovered performing black magic against her niece’. There was
enough evidence against her so that in the late 1920s she was removed from the
palace. Even though Pillai’s sympathies are clearly with Sethu Laxmi Bayi when
he tells the story, his voice and tone remain neutral.
Manu S Pillai |
Pillai also makes an interesting observation about the
traditional Kerala society, which did not frown upon the open sexual relations
of women. The author informs us that the freedom of women was actually clamped
down upon by the Christian missionaries with their ‘prudish’ Victorian ideas
and the need to ‘civilize’ India. They
therefore imposed their morality upon Kerala.
One of the most controversial edicts of the Maharani’s
tenure was the Newspaper Regulation. The press was ‘causing a good amount of
restlessness in the corridors of royal power and of the absolute monarchy that
headed it.’ Like every generation, they too had to fight for freedom of
expression. Pillai admits that despite her compassionate attitude, it is
controversial whether the maharani sided with the government or the press.
The good part was that by 1928, women were being appointed as
clerks, typists, secretaries etc, and by 1931 the government had 412 women on
its payroll in its administrative machinery. Major lifestyle changes in Sethu
Laxmi Bayi’s family, especially later generations, also reflect these
transformations in society. In fact, some from the royal line relinquished
their titles to spend their lives as ordinary civilians living ordinary lives,
adopting British mannerisms and practices that had become routine by then.
The evolution in society, politics and history in Kerala over
three centuries, until almost the time of Partition, has been painstakingly
captured. The chapters spliced together thematically rater than chronologically
can sometimes be a little confusing for the reader, especially so since the
royal family stuck to the same names generation after generation, and which the
author has made an effort to distinguish for the reader in his own way. That
apart the book is an awesome achievement.
**********
Divya Dubey is the publisher of Earthen Lamp Journal and the
Editor/Instructor at Authorz Coracle.
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