Anyone who has watched that somewhat tawdry, sentimental kitsch of a Tamil movie called Kandukonden Kandukonden can be said to be acquainted with the broad storyline of Sense and Sensibility. The story is about two sisters, refined and accomplished, who are temperamentally polarized between an impulsive, passionate disposition of one and the moderate, sober, deliberate nature of the other. The former – Marianne Dashwood – represents Sense and the latter – Elinor Dashwood – represents Sensibility. The story, while tracing the romantic pursuits and consequent heartaches of the sisters, indirectly poses a question on the superiority between the two traits. Does Sense triumph or does Sensibility? It might be said that since Marianne loved deeply, was hurt deeply by the inconstancies of the object of her affections and eventually reconciled to marry an older man (Mammooty!) whom she had to learn to love but who had loved her through all her excesses, she had, in fact, lost. Elinor, on the other hand, is the only person in the book who ends up marrying her first choice, albeit after much confusion and heartaches that were borne with a dignity far beyond her age. Therefore it might be argued that Sensibility triumphed. But the author does not pronounce any such black-and-white judgments but instead leaves the reader to form their own ideas.
What I liked best about Sense and Sensibility was, of course, the sheer beauty of the prose. Jane Austen is ruthless when it comes to exposing characters she is not fond of and she does this with such mockery and with such clever use of language that it delights the reader in its wickedness. I was astounded to find out that the book was written when Austen was nineteen. How did someone so young come to know so much, to understand so much about the society in which she lived and learn to articulate it so perfectly? At nineteen I was still trading Mills & Boons with my girlfriends!
For instance, consider the following description of the sisters’ half-brother John Dashwood and his wife Fanny, who throw the sisters and their mother out of the family home (roles played by Raguvaran and Anita Ratman in the tamil version. Ugh).
“ He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted, and rather selfish, is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable than he was; he might even have been made amiable himself; for he was very young when he married, and very fond of his wife. But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself; more narrow-minded and selfish. ”
Coming from a conservative tam-bram family, I could draw many parallels to life as it used to be when I was growing up in Mylapore. The emphasis on refinement in women as being the most ‘marriageable’ trait, the fact that social intercourse was the chosen vehicle for forming marriage alliances, the sentimentality of women and men alike, the overriding unabashed place of monetary affairs in the center of marriage negotiations - these were as much a reality in the Mylapore Mami’s life as they were in the fictional Marianne’s. As I read (or heard) Sense and Sensiblity I could connect to it from deep down. In the lives of Marianne and Elinor I saw the lives of my grandmothers and aunts. As pre-globalization women, they were but a cog in the Mylapore social wheel - “cultivating” themselves by learning to sing and dance and trying very hard to uphold modesty.
This book made my long drive to work well worth it and is second only to The Paycheck!
