‘Gulabiya’ is an alternative imagination of personal rebellion against caste and patriarchy

Angika, spoken by millions across Bihar, Jharkhand, and parts of Nepal, is yet to be recognised in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution. But now, regardless of its official status, English-language readers have a reason to celebrate. Abha Purbey’s novella, Gulabiya, translated by Tejaswi Rawal and Shivangi, is the first full-length work of fiction to be translated from the language.

First published in 2008, Purbey’s novella, even today, is bold in its defiance of the established social order. In the Author’s Note, Purbey writes about the inspiration behind her heroine, Gulabiya – a young farm labourer in Bihar’s Semapur, no older than 14 or 15, who was always “hopping and chirping”, and had eloped with her lover in the dead of the night after having been married off to another man against her wishes.

Purbey’s real-life inspiration cuts through the heart – a young woman’s immense courage to pursue freedom and love, despite enduring terrible abuse.

Dreams of love

The 80-page novella – a mighty dynamite despite its brief length – reads like a fable of a young man and a woman who rewrote their destinies.

Balesar and Gulabiya, poor, hardworking farm labourers, are in love. Balesar is promoted to Seth Patel Singh’s manager, jeopardising his bond with the other labourers who work the field. Meanwhile, Gulabiya is valued for her skilful work and her youthful beauty. The novella opens on an unforgiving summer day. Gulabiya’s heart is not in work; she frets about Balesar’s absence; after all, he had promised to come see her.

Gulabiya’s escalating worry mirrors the harsh sun beating down on her. Balesar is held back regularly by the Seth, made to work longer hours and supervise the labourers who were, until then, his friends. It is both his desire for freedom and his dislike of being in charge that make Balesar want to set out on his own. What follows is the despairing battle with bureaucracy – denied a loan by the bank, Balesar agrees to mortgage his home to a moneylender for Rs 20,000. He finds a suitable partner in Gulabiya, and together they harvest superior quality bananas that Balesar is sure will fetch them a fortune.

The brief spell of optimism is dashed when the wealthy Seth and the moneylender conspire against Balesar, afraid that he’ll usurp their position with his newfound prosperity. Purbey narrates the method of destruction in a matter-of-fact way, perhaps reminding the reader that such injustices are to be expected when someone, even without wanting to, disturbs the status quo. In fact, it is so routine that the reader is under no illusion that Balesar and Gulabiya will be offered a kinder fate.

Dreams of freedom

Despite steeling the heart, one is bound to be shaken by the unexpected turn of Gulabiya’s life. Purbey’s imagination is richer in its creation of her heroine’s tragedy. Gulabiya’s fierce love for Balesar is a reflection of the great love she has for herself. She stands up against the most formidable forces, unshaken in her belief that she deserves freedom. Gulabiya shatters every notion that a woman in distress is a helpless creature – the heroine’s steadfast belief in herself wins her her life, her reward far richer than those who thought they’d bully her into submission.

The austere beauty of Bihar’s Kosi region suffuses Balesar and Gulabiya’s love in a dreamlike haze. Unlike most “love stories”, Balesar and Gulabiya, on the page, are together for only a short time – thinking of each other in dreams and memories. Purbey achieves a dual purpose with this, conveying the impossibility of their union and throwing the reader off Gulabiya’s ultimate rebellion. The novella also considers elopement as a feminist act. What is usually the stuff of gossip then becomes a route to dignity – to be able to choose and love without fear. Gulabiya offers an alternative imagination of rebellion, which, performed at an individual level, is powerful enough to dismantle the tyranny of caste and patriarchy in India.

Rawal and Shivangi’s translation, which chooses to retain several words and phrases in the Angika, successfully constructs an India within India which is at once familiar yet distinct in its politics of power, ownership, and freedom.

Gulabiya, Abha Purbey, translated from the Angika by Shivangi and Tejaswi Rawal, Hachette India.