Krishnan's
change comes about not as a result of any grand plan or
ambition, but as a result of his response to a series of
challenging circumstances which arise once he begins to
take steps away from the cloistered and protective
environment of his school.
This day-by-day, unforeseen-event by unforeseen-event
progress is reflected in Narayan's approach to the novel
itself. Narayan gives the impression that he has no pre-planned
plot in mind when the story opens, but instead focuses on
a meticulously detailed depiction of Krishnan's
experiences, keeping to the observable surface reality of
his perceptions, thoughts, and feelings, without
digression or analysis or interpretation. This rigorous
unadorned focus on observable phenomena results in some
stunningly beautiful writing.
But although Krishnan's journey takes place as a result
of a series of unpredictable events, a number of
recurring themes are being worked out in the
course of the novel. These themes might be said to be
Krishnan's progress from predictability to
unpredictability, from the academic world to the real
world of life and death, from adulthood to childhood, and
from a western mentality to an eastern mentality.
From
predictability to unpredictability
Krishnan repeatedly finds himself being drawn out of
situations which ought to have been predictable and
ordered by events which are spontaneous and unpredictable,
and it is clear that he finds spontaneity and
unpredictability to be stimulating and life-enhancing,
while predictability and order, although providing a
cushion of comfort and security, is ultimately stifling
and deadening
Krishnan is roused from his predictable and ordered life
at his school, where he had come to feel he lived 'like a
cow', and had a continuous 'sense of something missing' [Ch
1. p. 295], and where a pupil spelling 'honour' without
the 'u' is seen as a catastrophe by his colleagues, by
the unexpected news that his wife and child, both of whom
are to be sources of spontaneity and unpredictability
throughout the novel, are coming to join him, and that he
will need to move out of his lodgings at the school and
find a house for them. This marks the first step of what
becomes a journey out of the cloistered world of the
school and into the real world of ordinary people leading
ordinary lives.
Susila, his wife, brings unpredictability into his life
at every turn. For example when they go to look at a
house she wants to make a long diversion to walk by the
river and bathe her feet, where the rational orderly
Krishnan would have naturally taken the most direct route,
and it is clear that he finds her unpredictable behaviour
a source of delight and inspiration.
Krishnan does not adjust to this new influence without a
struggle, however, as is seen in the episode where she
gets rid of the predictably-unpredictable alarm clock he
had kept on his desk for years. This clock, which was
liable to set off its alarm at arbitrary times of day and
night, seems to symbolise his old attitude to
predictability versus spontaneity. He held onto the clock
for years, as if its unpredictable behaviour were
precious to him, and yet he stifled it with a literary
tome whenever it sounded its alarm. He seems to have
cherished it for its unpredictability, even though that
unpredictability was inappropriate and ineffective,
without quite realising why, and when his wife gets rid
of it behind his back it comes as a great shock to him
and causes a row which drags on for several days before
he can accept her act with equanimity.
This jarring episode seems to mark his transition from a
world dominated by predictability to a world dominated by
unpredictability, and from that point on he has to start
actually living day to day on the basis of the truth
which he may have previously intuitively sensed, but
stifled, that there is a severe limit to what can be
achieved in life through any system which is ordered,
predictable, and knowable.
The turning point of the story arises from Susila's
unpredictability. When they go to look at the house we
could not possibly predict that she would go for a walk
on her own, get stuck in a contaminated lavatory, and
then become ill. When they prepare for the journey it
might have seemed that Narayan was preparing for a plot
in which something bad happened to their child while they
were away, but in the event the important incident is not
something that could have been guessed beforehand, either
by the reader or by Krishnan, but an unpredictable event
which arises on the spur of the moment.
Krishnan's intention was that their visits to view houses
should proceed in an ordered, predictable, rational way,
but Susila brought unpredictability to the occasions,
resulting in moments of beauty, such as the walk by the
river, but also in the awful tragedy of her becoming
infected by a fatal illness. She brings reality into his
life, which was previously protected from reality by the
enclosed ordered world of the school, and later she
initiates the most unpredictable event of all, her
psychic communication with him from beyond death.
The futility of clinging to the belief that life can be
orderly, predictable, and knowable is shown in two
central, and symmetrical, predictions which occupy a
prominent place in the novel. The first is the doctor's
assertion that typhoid, which Susila has contracted, 'is
the one fever which goes strictly by its own rules. It
follows a time-table . . . ' [Ch 3. p.366] and that
Susila will be well in a few weeks. But in spite of his
further assurances that her attack is 'Absolutely normal
course. No complications. A perfect typhoid run . . . ' [Ch
3. p.369] Susila dies.
The other prominent demonstration of the futility of
believing that life can be knowable and predictable is
seen in the headmaster's belief in a prediction made by
an astrologer, 'who can see past present and future as
one, and give everything its true value' [Ch 7. p. 450]
that he will die on a given date. But although (just as
the doctor had asserted that Susila's typhoid was 'A
perfect typhoid run') the headmaster has found that his 'life
has gone precisely as he predicted' [Ch 7. p. 450], the
headmaster lives.
Both predictions are propounded with certainly, and both
prove to be false. The scientifically-based prediction of
life is thwarted by death, and the mystical prediction of
death is thwarted by in life.
Both of these episodes show the limitations of man's
ability to know and predict the world. The truth is that
we cannot know, and cannot predict, and any view of life,
whether deriving from modern western science, or ancient
eastern mysticism, which disregards the unknowable and
sees only what is supposedly known, and supposedly
predictable, is hopelessly inadequate.
From the
academic world to the 'law of life'
While these episodes fail to provide Krishnan with
anything rational to believe in, they do bring him face
to face with the reality of life and death, and
confronting the realities of life without retreating into
the safe cerebral world of literature and philosophy is
an important component of his journey. His unsatisfying
immersion in a sterile literary approach to life is shown
in a number of ways. For example the novel opens with him
wearily facing the fact that he is reading 'for the
fiftieth time, Milton, Carlyle and Shakespeare' [Ch 1. p.
295]. Later he tries to write a love poem for his wife,
but it is simply a copy of a poem by Wordsworth, and
later still he tries to read a book on Plato, but gives
up on the very first sentence.
Now he is discovering how ordinary people encounter the
big issues of life and death, not as seen through the
perspective of literature or philosophy, and not in a way
that would imply that some profound universal conclusions
could be drawn, but as they actually experience it in
everyday life.
And Narayan himself, insofar as we can identify him with
the character of Krishnan, is writing at the level of
those ordinary people. He does not adopt the position of
a novelist presenting the reader with fictitious
characters which he has created, and which are under his
control, as for example Charles Dickens does, but in the
guise of Krishnan he places himself firmly among the
ordinary people, and breaks down the boundaries between
real life outside his novel and the life within the novel.
Just as Krishnan faces life without illusions, so Narayan
seems to create his novel without the usual illusions of
the novelist, such as pre-planned plot and fictitious
characters.
In an outburst with one of his students Krishnan says of
literature: 'Don't worry so much about these things -
they are trash, we are obliged to go through and pretend
we like them, but all the time the problem of living and
dying is crushing us.' [Ch 7. p.438]
In coming to terms with the death of his wife literature,
philosophy, and rationalism, are no use to him. They are
all illusions, and the journey he is on involves leaving
illusions behind.
Living without
illusions seemed to be the greatest task for me in
life now . . . humanity, nurtured in illusions from
beginning to end! The twists and turns of fate would
cease to shock us if we knew, and expected nothing
more than, the barest truths and facts of life. [Ch 4.
p. 387]
Narayan's writing
style, which is inseparable from the observations of
Krishnan, the first-person narrator, has been showing us
this all along. Right from page one Narayan has presented
us with only 'the barest truths and facts of life'.
The truth Krishnan wants to discover cannot be found in
Shakespeare, Carlyle, or Plato, it is found only among
real people leading real lives, it is 'the law of life'.
The law of life
can't be avoided. The law comes into operation the
moment we detach ourselves from our mother's womb.
All struggle and misery in life is due to our attempt
to arrest this law or get away from it . . . [Ch 7. p.
465]
From adulthood
to childhood
Children are very much in evidence throughout 'The
English Teacher', and are important guides for Krishnan
on his journey. At the beginning he is with the boys at
his school, but they are no longer children but young
adults, already entangled in the system from which he
needs to escape. The children who help to show him the
way are the younger children, his own daughter, Leela,
and the children at the nursery school she attends. The
young children are important because they are spontaneous
and natural. They have not yet had their natural energy
stifled and diverted by the deadening educational system,
and are free from rationalism, religion, and other
systems of thought.
The most prominent character in the novel, after Krishnan
and his family, is the headmaster of Leela's school. He
is a champion of childhood, having devoted his life to
children since receiving the prediction that he would die,
and believes they are 'angels' [Ch 6. p. 434], 'the real
gods on earth' [Ch 6. p. 423], and employs what he calls
'The Leave Alone System' in his school
The Leave Alone
System, which will make them wholesome human beings,
and also help us, those who work along with them, to
work off the curse of adulthood. [Ch 6. p. 436]
Krishnan befriends the
headmaster, and although at one point he fears that the
headmaster is 'a man mentally unsound' [Ch 7. p. 449] he
is drawn towards the headmaster's views, which are
reinforced by his wife's psychic communication that
children are more in tune with the psychic side of life
than adults, and at the climax of the novel he decides to
work with the headmaster in his nursery school.
In the second half of the novel Krishnan's discovery of
children as an effective countermeasure against 'the
curse of adulthood', and the opening of his mind that he
is experiencing through meditation, pave the way for his
resignation from his old job and the adoption of a more
genuine lifestyle.
We might also see in the headmaster's comment: 'Children
have taught me to speak plainly, without the varnish of
the adult world.' [Ch 6. p. 433] a clue as to the
inspiration behind Narayan's direct, factual, unadorned
style of writing.
From west to
east
Another component of Krishnan's journey is that he
encounters the coexistence of western and native cultural
attitudes, which also represent the attitudes of Indians
of a newer and older generation. For example when Susila
is ill she is treated both by a doctor who practises
western scientific medicine, and by a Swamiji who uses
mystical methods of healing. The Swamiji is summoned by
Susila's mother, representing an older generation than
Krishnan himself, who believes the 'Evil Eye' [Ch 3. p.
372] has fallen on her daughter, and it is notable that
Krishnan feels 'ashamed' [Ch 3. p. 373] that the doctor
finds the Swamiji in the house, showing that he is
alienated from, and embarrassed by, the native culture of
the older generation of his own country.
In the event, both the scientific and the mystical
attempts at healing fail, and Susila dies. Narayan
presents us with the coexistence of these two systems of
thought in Indian culture, but does not make an issue of
being 'for' one and 'against' another because in the
matters of life and death that he wants to focus on here
the distinction between western and eastern thought pales
into insignificance.
Other instances of the juxtaposition of English and
native cultures arise in the novel. For example it may be
significant that the street where the headmaster lives,
with its poor sanitation, and where 'unkempt and wild-looking
children rolled about in the dust' [Ch 6. p. 431] is
named Anderson Street, and Anderson may have been 'some
gentleman of the East India Company's days!' [Ch 6. p.
431]. But while this observation is potent, it is the
observations he wishes to make on the educational system
towards the end of the novel which represent the main
focus of his attack.
The final stage of Krishnan's journey takes him further
from the from the western intellectual frame of mind,
inherited from the British, in which he was embedded at
the opening of the novel, and further towards native
Indian spiritual practices. To reach his goal of 'a
harmonious existence' [Ch 8. p. 467] he takes up his
deceased wife's psychically-communicated challenge, which
he receives initially through a medium, to develop his
mind sufficiently to communicate with her psychically
himself, and bridge the gap between life and life-after-death.
Although initially he had been bemused by his wife's
devotional practices, mocking her with 'Oh! Becoming a
yogi!' [Ch 2. p.325] he now relies on her to guide him,
from beyond the grave, in his 'self-development'.
This self-development consists of Zen-like meditation in
which, for a certain amount of time each day, he empties
his mind. His main motive for undertaking this
development is to reach closer psychic communication with
his wife, but he also experiences a general improvement
in his state of mind as a result.
It was a perpetual
excitement, ever promising some new riches in the
realm of experience and understanding . . . There was
a real cheerfulness growing within me, memory hurt
less . . . [Ch 7. p. 457]
Compare this to the
boredom and spiritual deadness he had come to find in
western literature and philosophy and we see how he has
found something truly enriching in his native culture.
The simple message of 'belief' which his wife offers as
the key to his progress also shows how inadequate the
western approach, with its 'classifying, labelling,
departmentalising' [Ch 8. p. 468] was for his real needs:
'Belief, belief.'
Above reason, scepticism, and even immediate failures,
I clung to it. [Ch 7. p. 457]
Conclusion
In the final chapter the issues of the novel come to a
head with Krishnan's resignation from his post as English
teacher and his psychic reunion with his wife. In his
attack on the system he is rebelling against he
criticises not English Literature itself 'for who could
be insensible to Shakespeare's sonnets, or Ode to the
West Wind' [Ch 8. p. 467] but India's adherence to an
educational system which stifles the spirit of its
students and alienates them from their native culture:
This education has
reduced us to a nation of morons; we were strangers
to our own culture and camp followers of another
culture, feeding on leavings and garbage . . . What
about our own roots? . . . I am up against the system,
the whole method and approach of a system of
education which makes us morons, cultural morons, but
efficient clerks for all your business and
administration offices. [Ch 8. pp. 467-8]
Having thrown off this
cultural inheritance from the west, and decided to 'withdraw
from the adult world and adult work into the world of
children' [Ch 8. p. 472] he is free to take a further
step in his traditional Indian self-development and reach
a state in which 'one's mind became clean and bare and a
mere chamber of fragrance' [Ch 8. p. 473]. He finally
learns to experience at the psychic level, and when his
wife appears before him he reaches 'a moment of rare,
immutable joy - a moment for which one feels grateful to
Life and Death.' [Ch 8. p. 474]
In conclusion we might say that the quote 'What about our
own roots?' which I chose as the title for this essay
could apply to Krishnan's journey on a number of levels.
It could apply to all of us as adults, alienated from our
roots in childhood; to modern Indians, alienated from
their native cultural roots; and to humanity as a whole,
in that we have become rational human beings, alienated
from our roots in the unknown.
Additional
commentary on The
English Teacher and
excerpts from comments from Indian critics by
S. N. Radhika Lakshmi
At the
beginning of The English Teacher we find Krishna
to be a sensitive and sincere teacher who is completely
wrapped in his work of teaching Carlyle and Milton to the
students of Albert Mission College at Malgudi. In the
first half of the story Krishna is portrayed as an
affectionate and protective father to Leela as well as a
doting husband to Susila. But after his wife's death he
is forced to face the harsh realities of life and is
tortured by feelings of loneliness. He leads a mechanical
existence, attending college and looking after his
daughter, to whom he is both a mother and father.
Krishnan was on the verge of committing suicide after his
wife's death, but he resisted the temptation because he
felt it was his responsibility to bring up his daughter.
Krishnan receives a message from an old man that his dead
wife is trying to communicate with him through the old
man. During their psychic meetings, with the old man
acting as a medium, Susila's spirit infuses into the
almost-suicidal Krishnan the strength and courage to face
the harsh realities of life.
Susila's spirit expresses her inability to communicate
with Krishnan as he is not in the right state of mind to
receive her messages. First of all Krishnan should rid
his mind of all trace of sorrow about her untimely death.
In course of time Krishnan attains a state of mental
readiness to receive her messages without the
intervention of the medium.
Krishnan develops friendship with a headmaster who runs a
kindergarten school. He admits his daughter in the same
school. The eccentric headmaster is a refreshing contrast
to Krishnan. The headmaster doesn't believe in spoon-feeding
or excessive discipline and allows the children to play
games most of the time, teaching them lessons in between
their play. This mode of learning seems to be effective.
The headmaster is a hen-pecked husband. He does not go
home for lunch, knowing that his wife will be waiting for
him, and chooses to have his meal with Krishnan instead.
When he goes home the first question he asks his children
is, "Is your mother at home?" When they reply,
"No" he says, "Excellent" with great
relief. His termagant wife does not allow their children
to study in his school and brings them up in a wild and
barbaric manner.
The headmaster tells Krishnan that according to an
astrologer's prediction, he will die in a few days' time.
His feelings about his own death may perhaps be a psychic
phenomenon, or a suicidal wish to escape from his worries
and miseries. When the death for which he waits so calmly
does not come, he cuts off all his connections with his
family and treats himself as dead and his life as a new
birth. The irony lies in the fact that although he proves
to be a good teacher and a good headmaster to his
students, he is a failure in the role of a father to his
own children, for he fails miserably in bringing them up.
The headmaster exerts a distinct influence in
transforming Krishna's life. Krishnan resigns his job at
college as he finds it meaningless, and joins the
headmaster's school as a teacher. He finally attains
peace of mind and realises that life will have meaning
for him from then onwards. He gradually overcomes his
grief over the loss of his wife and finds happiness and
fulfilment in bringing up his young daughter. He no
longer requires the presence of Susila's spirit to infuse
confidence in him to face life, though Susila's spirit
remains with him forever.
Comments on The
English Teacher by some Indian
literary critics
According to Harish Raizada The
English Teacher, as an autobiographical novel,
completes a trilogy along with his other two novels 'Swami
and Friends' and 'The Bachelor of Arts'. It depicts man
as bearing 'the sweet and bitter fruits of life.'
K R Srinivasa lyengar [3] says
that the description of Krishnan's married life - the
first few years of happiness, the excruciating agony
during the weeks of Susila's illness, the 'last journey'
to the cremation ground - is one of the most moving and
flawless pieces of writing in modern English fiction. Not
a word is wasted and not a word rings false. The second
half of the novel, however, takes us to unfamiliar
regions. Krishnan's numbed misery and his wish to be both
a mother and a father to Leela are understandable enough,
but the experiments in psychic communication with Susila
with the help of a medium introduce a whimsical or
fantastic element into a story which, up to that point,
had been transparently true to life. The eccentric
headmaster of the 'pyol' school and his termagant wife
and their wild children make for further seemingly
incongruous elements.
Automatic writing and attempts at psychic contact with
the dead are not altogether uncommon: and the soil of
India doubtless breeds every type of idealist and
eccentric, waif and vagabond. Nevertheless it is
difficult to feel that the first and second halves of 'The
English Teacher' blend naturally and make an artistic
whole. The theme of the novel is obviously the 'death' of
Susila in the first half, and her 'resurrection' in the
second half. Paradise Lost being followed by paradise
Regained. Krishna loses Susila in the flesh, but on the
last page of the novel she comes back to him, to be with
him forever.
'Susila! Susila!'
I cried. 'You here!' 'Yes, I'm here, have always been
here.'
Is Krishna dreaming?
Is it anything more than the physical projection of
Krishna's psychic ecstasy? Isn't this a resurrection
greater than life? 'The boundaries of our personalities
suddenly dissolved' Krishna concludes his
autobiographical narrative. 'It was a moment of rare,
immutable joy - a moment for which one feels grateful to
life and death'.
According to Professor P S Sundaram, The
English Teacher is a novel with a difference, not
only in the type of love between Krishnan and Susila that
is depicted, but also in the author's bold excursion into
the realms of the dead. But then one is inclined to
accept K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar's view when he asks 'Is
Krishna dreaming? Is it any more than an apocalyptic
vision of Krishna's psychic ecstasy? Isn't this a
resurrection greater than life!'
References
Narayan, R. K. The English Teacher, in A Malgudi
Omnibus. London: Vintage, Random House. 1999. First
published in England by Eyre and Spottiswoode 1945
[2] Patten, Brian. 'An Incident', from Armada. London:
Flamingo. 1996
[3] K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar. R. K. Narayan: Indian
Writing in English. 6th ed. New Delhi: Sterling
Publishers pvt ltd. 1987.
© Ian Mackean, January
2001. email the author
©
S.
N. Radhika Lakshmi, January 2001. email the author
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