Monday, Feb 18 2002
Love, Science and Levity
- Maya Khankhoje Maya Khankhoje is one of the talented new voices in the evolving literature
of science fiction and fantasy. Long dominated by Western-centric
technological positivists, speculative fiction has become more complex
today --- it asks more difficult questions, takes less for granted and
includes more diverse voices than ever before. However the so-called Third
World is still under-represented in speculative fiction, not only in terms
of setting and subject matter, but also in terms of writers and points of
view that are unique to its many cultures. Maya Khankhoje's writings help
fill a great void.
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Maya Khankhoje's profile by Vandana Singh
Few writers are as qualified as Maya to talk about the different facets of
culture in a speculative fiction context. Her life story --- spanning three
continents and six decades --- reads like a novel. (See her
autobiographical essay, "How I came to be a Mexican Indian," printed in "Her
Mother's Ashes II," an anthology of South Asian women writers.) She was
born in Mexico City of an Indian father and a Belgian mother. Her father
had been involved in the freedom struggle in India when the British
sentenced him to death in absentia for his revolutionary activities. He
escaped and his travels took him to San Francisco, where he was one of the
founders of the Ghadar party. Later he settled in Mexico and became a
supporter of the Mexican peasantry in their struggle for agrarian reform.
Maya was brought up in both Mexico and India. The family returned to India
after independence, and Maya obtained her Bachelor's degree in English
Literature from Nagpur University. Later she went back to Mexico, where she
married an American and had two daughters. After the marriage ended she
settled down in Montreal, Canada, where she lives to this day.
Through her adult life she worked as a teacher and as a translater for
embassies. Now Maya is a simultaneous interpreter at a UN agency. She
speaks seven languages, writes in English and Spanish, and has won numerous
awards for her writing in both languages. Her vision is deep - ironic,
romantic, and ultimately compassionate. Her family legacy of revolution
and her understanding of the delicate interfaces between culture also
informs her writing. At times her writing is laconic, acerbic. At other
times it is lush, imaginative, full of the splendor of language, reminiscent
of the great Latin American writers.
She describes herself as a passionate champion of the Arts, Peace, and the
Environmental and Feminist movements. Her daughters and her writings, she
says, are her greatest source of joy.
I first met Maya in 1999, at Flight of the Mind, a writers' retreat for
women held in the Oregon wilderness. A dark-haired, attractive woman who
looked much younger than her then fifty-odd years, Maya shared with us her
experiences and her stories. I was impressed with her sensitivity,
intelligence and gentle humor.
Today we present two short pieces of speculative fiction by Maya Khankhoje,
previously published in Montreal Serai, an online journal devoted to
"bringing margins to center". Both pieces reveal her mastery of the form of
story known as a "short-short", which is generally defined as a fiction
piece less than a 1000 words long, and is usually very difficult to pull
off. Enjoy!
A Touch of Levity
by Maya Khankhoje
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Levity. [L. levitas, f. levis, light.] A property possessed in varying
degrees by all substances and which makes them tend to rise, as substances
possessing gravity tend to sink.]
Isaac sat under an apple tree, as was his custom, whenever he could get away
from his nagging mother, his pompous father, his execrable siblings, his
simpering wife, the duties of his station and the innumerable things that
made sitting under an apple tree a much more attractive proposition. And of
course, the apples themselves were the very reason for this apparently
unproductive pastime. Not only could he satiate his appetite for this sinful
fruit, but he could also entertain and enrich his mind.
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He shut his eyes and tried to recreate the epiphany that had been revealed
to him under another apple tree. "An apple drops to the ground because it is
attracted by the centre of the earth. Let us call this ponderous force
gravity." Voila, a perfectly simple and elegant statement that would, pardon
the expression, revolutionize the world, the gyrations of which, as any dolt
should know, are partly responsible for this state of affairs.
What if, said Isaac, what if the process were to be reversed? What would
happen if instead of being attracted by the core of the earth, we were to be
repelled by it? What would you call a force that is not a force but just the
opposite? That embodies the qualities of a feather blown by the wind. That
soars to the ceiling of cathedrals like the voices of castrati. That
dissipates like the morning mist burnt by the midday sun. That vanishes like
a passing fancy.
Why not call this force levity? Yes, levity. What would happen if instead of
clinging to the ground, we were to be raised aloft? All that ponderous
thinking and all those heavy apples made Isaac fall into a deep sleep. And
while Isaac slept, his nagging mother was raised aloft until all you could
see were her knickers, not as clean as one would have wished of such a
respectable matron. His pompous father was pulled by the three hairs on his
forehead until they snapped and the honourable gentleman has not been heard
of ever since. His execrable siblings were dispersed in all four directions,
while his simpering wife had her smile inverted so that she now wears a
perpetually mournful look. As for Isaac's duties and the trappings of his
station, they are still floating in space together with an assortment of
apples. And if you look carefully, you can still see them, but for that, you
need a clear night, a good telescope and a touch of levity.
Once Upon a Time in a Kingdom by the Sea
By Maya Khankhoje
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Wanita looked longingly at Yayo, who was foraging for seaweed on the leeward
side of the rock on which she was sunning herself. She could almost touch
him, but Yayo was impervious to her presence, the sea having come between
them forevermore.
This estrangement had started so long ago that she had lost her sense of
time. It could have happened when the earth heaved up a huge ball of fire,
propelling it through the depths of the sea till it expanded into an orange
ring shimmering against a pale blue sky, only to settle down and *** into a
black crown of jagged rocks. Or it could have simply crept and crawled its
way through the dense morass of time. Or perhaps it was not a question of
time, but of intent. Be it as it may, her fear of water prevailed over her
love for him and she had stayed behind on dry land.
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"Yayo", she yelled over his head and long back, "remember how you would
outstare all the other males in the colony and then start thumping your
chest up and down until they all dispersed! You would then scamper up to me
and mount me with all the energy you had soaked up from the midday sun. Did
I ever tell you, Yayo, that I thought you were the bravest and most awesome
creature in the whole island? How I curse the day when you fell into the sea
and swam away!"
The lapping of the sea against the rock drowned Wanita's voice.
As Yayo sifted through the weeds, a tingling sensation along his spine
compelled him to lift his head and look straight ahead. Blurred and faint
images solidified into old memories which sent his heart racing. There,
lying on a rock right in front of him, lay Wanita, the mate whom dry land
had taken away from him. That had been so far away, that he had lost his
sense of distance. But then again, it might not have been a question of
distance, but of lack of intent. Had he really wanted her to follow him?
After all, when he fell into the water, he swam away without a backward
glance to make sure that she was following him.
"Wanita", he screamed at her over the water beating against the hot rock,
"did I ever tell you that you were the most luscious of all the females in
the island? Did you know that I used to thump my chest up and down in front
of all the other males, hoping that you would deign to look at me? How I
curse the day I fell into the water and got a taste of the wide open freedom
of the ocean!"
Yayo's voice was covered by the cries of the seagulls hovering over the
rock.
So goes the story of Wanita and Yayo, two doomed lovers who were forbidden
to touch. For Wanita had remained on land and Yayo had taken to the sea. No
marine creature can mate on land for it will die of thirst. And no land
creature can mate at sea, for it will drown.
As this tragic tale unfolded, an Englishman stood on a promontory observing
the two iguanas and jotting down a few lines in his notebook. Being a
scientist and not a poet, he was oblivious to their tragic destiny. He was
succinct.
"Having observed that this island has land as well as marine iguanas that
appear to be related, I hereby conclude that the theory of the immutability
of the species propounded by some of my learned colleagues, is specious.
Full stop." He then shut his notebook, and scribbled a title on the thick
cardboard cover. "Notebook on the Theory of the Transmutation of the
Species".
The Englishman smiled before walking away and disappearing behind the rocks.
Credits
Photo and art provided by Juan Raggo
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