Welcome Message from Jhumpa Lahiri (author)

Greetings to everyone at The University of Rhode Island, and a special welcome to the incoming Class of 2013. It is a particular honor, and a personal one, that Interpreter of Maladies has been chosen for URI’s first Common Reading. As some of you may already know, I grew up in Rhode Island, within and around the university. My parents came to Kingston in 1970, when I was three years old. We first rented a house on Kingstown Road, and then lived in the Faculty Apartments for two years. My parents still live about two miles from campus, off Route 108, and my father still works at the university library, in the cataloging department. My father has a master’s degree from URI in Political Science, and my mother, who turns seventy this year, is currently a graduate student in the School of Education.

My parents are of Bengali origin, born and raised in India, and I was always aware that family didn’t fully belong in the place where we lived. But I never doubted that we were a part of URI. The university was a sanctuary of tolerance and respect, a creative and dynamic place, filled with people of diverse backgrounds who embraced intellectual inquiry and celebrated the life of the mind. URI was my playground, the park I roamed in on Sunday afternoons. When we had guests from out of town, my parents proudly showed off the campus, pointing to its lovely buildings and tranquil, open space. I attended nursery school at the Child Development Center on Lower College Road and enjoyed my first “meals out” at the cafeteria in the Memorial Union. I learned to swim in the university pools, went to movies at Edwards Hall, and learned to drive a car in the parking lot of the Fine Arts Center. For many years, I helped my mother sell Indian snacks at the International Food Festival, where rows of tables, arranged on three sides of the Ballroom in the Union, were covered with delicacies from all over the world.

When I began writing short stories, URI was one of my inspirations. Although my stories are not autobiographical, two of the stories in Interpreter of Maladies—“When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine” and “Mrs. Sen’s”—are informed by memories of my upbringing in Kingston in the 1970’s. The narrator in “The Third and Final Continent” is based, in part, on my father, who has been an employee of URI now for thirty-nine years, and that story was my attempt to commemorate, in fiction, his journey to the United States. In general, many of the characters in my books tend to be either students or professors. When people ask me why, I tell them URI is the reason.

I wrote almost all these stories while I was a graduate student in Boston. It took me the better part of a decade to write them. Most are set in the United States, and some are set in India. This is a reflection, I suppose, of that fact that most of my childhood was spent in the United States, but that some of the time was spent visiting our extended family in India. The process of traveling regularly back and forth across the globe was central to my development both as a person and as a writer. I grew conditioned to look more closely at the world, and to question it. I was able to look back with some perspective at the place I lived in, and occasionally, to set foot in an alternate way of life that my parents had left behind.
One of the reasons I write stories is to meditate on conflicts and challenges that are individually experienced, but tend to be universally shared. Stories are not meant to explain anything, but rather, to isolate an aspect of the human condition previously overlooked, misunderstood, or unknown. They are kept alive by readers, and although Interpreter of Maladies is being read collectively, each of you is bound to interpret the book in your own way. Faculty, staff, and students of URI, I encourage your questions and comments as you read these stories, your discussion and debate. And for those leaving home for the first time, who are finding their way in the new and sometimes bewildering world of college, I hope URI is a refuge and an inspiration to you, just as it remains to me.

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Story # 9 The Third and Final Continent (posted by David Farmer, Dean, Graduate School of Oceanography)

What is an Oceanography Dean doing here on your summer reading blog? As an undergraduate I never met a dean and had no idea or interest in what they did. Provost DeHayes thought it would be helpful for the deans of all the colleges to participate in this effort as a way to connect better with first year students. The blog was an opportunity for helping you get to know us. We were each given a short story of An Interpreter of Maladies to comment upon, but I think the plan is as much an opportunity for us to talk a bit about ourselves, to show a little of the person who lives beneath the title! The book serves as a framework for that discussion.

The Graduate School of Oceanography is a bit different from the other colleges and is also on a separate campus in Narragansett; we give degrees to graduate students rather than undergraduate students, but undergraduates take some of our courses and we are working hard to deepen the links between undergraduates and our Bay Campus activities. In any event, Dean Ray Wright from Engineering and I were both away when story selections were made. We were both allocated Short Story #9; between us you should get a useful diversity of views! (Read More)

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Story #6: Mrs Sen's (posted by Winifred Brownell, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences)

Welcome to the Class of 2013! Only a year ago, I found out from a student what a blog was. This is my first posting to one.

I read Interpreter of Maladies ten years ago (when many members of the incoming class were in third grade), and was delighted to reread this Pulitzer Prize-winning collection of short stories. I join others in thanking author Jhumpa Lahiri for providing such a charming introduction to our blog. We are fortunate that she will speak at the URI Fall Honors Colloquium Series, Demystifying India.

This richly textured story was inspired by Jhumpa Lahiri’s time in Kingston. We meet Eliot, a boy of 11, who is wise beyond his years. We learn that Eliot was cared for after school by Mrs. Sen who replaced a few less than satisfactory “babysitters.” The story introduces two women, Mrs. Sen and Eliot’s mother, who are both sympathetic characters to a degree, but who come from different cultures manifesting different values.

Throughout the story, Eliot discovers that his mother and Mrs. Sen have contrasting lives. Mrs. Sen did not know how to drive and was taking lessons, although the only destination she wanted to drive to was Calcutta. In India, she had a chauffeur, but had to leave that behind as well as a great deal else that was important in her life. Mrs. Sen and her husband, a professor of mathematics, wore flipflops in their warm home and not the shoes they used outside the home. Mrs. Sen, attired in beautiful saris, spent an hour each day seated on the floor while cutting several vegetables using a large blade. She applied scarlet powder in the part in her hair and in a dot above her eyebrows to display her marital status. Receiving a letter from family in India and being able to purchase a whole fish were the two things that made Mrs. Sen happy. All of these observations fascinated Eliot, including her scent of mothballs and cumin. The daily rituals were so consistent that Eliot noticed immediately when Mrs. Sen changed her behavior. He knew that something was very different and later discovered that her grandfather had died. Although Eliot was only 11, he understood how difficult it was for Mrs. Sen to be apart from her family to share in the joy of a birth, activities of daily life, or the grief in loss of a beloved family member.

In contrast to Eliot’s fascination with Mrs. Sen and her home, we learn that Eliot’s mother raised him on her own, lived 2,000 miles from Eliot’s father, worked outside the home 50 miles away, wore western clothes and less modest casual attire, kept her outside shoes on inside, lived in a rather cold beach house, devoted little attention to meals, and confided in Eliot that she did not enjoy the tastes of the Indian food she was served. She was relieved to end the relationship with Mrs. Sen when she learned about the driving accident and was more confident to leave Eliot alone in their isolated beach home.

Who was the more sympathetic character to you: Mrs. Sen or Eliot’s mother? Why? When Eliot’s mother called to reassure Eliot that he was a big boy and could be on his own at 11, was she comforting him or herself? Will things work out for Eliot and his mother? After her driving accident and experience using mass transportation, what do you think will happen to Mrs. Sen? Why was it so difficult for her to learn to drive? Mrs. Sen knew she could not see her family for three more years until her husband earned tenure and could then take her back to India. What have you heard about tenure at universities? Would waiting more than three years to see your family be worth the price of tenure to you? How can technology today make physical separation easier for you and your family whether you live a few or thousands of miles away from them?

Regardless of your major, you will take several classes in Arts and Sciences that will help prepare you to be an ethical, educated citizen of a diverse global community. The work of Jhumpa Lahiri provides an excellent start on that journey.

--Winifred Brownell
Dean, College of Arts and Sciences (MORE)

Story #5: Sexy (posted by Nancy Fey-Yensan, Interim Dean, College of the Environment and Life Sciences)

A twenty-two year old woman is having an affair with a married, Indian man. Why in the world would a story like this bring my grandparents to mind?

Well, for me, 'Sexy' elicited an unexpected flood of thought about real and lasting love, and of Levena and Ed, married for over 60 years. As described, Miranda's affair with Dev felt like entertainment for them both- this new college graduate was charmed by Dev's attention and romanticism and, he was the first man to call her sexy... this, interfacing with an innocent comment from a child living within a household dealing with infidelity, is what would ultimately define her decision to distance herself from her affair.

So,what is "real" love if thinking someone is sexy is " ...loving someone you don't know?" I am convinced that is was real love that it was that my grandparents had attained, and that this was based on a foundation of knowledge -- deep knowledge of each other, shared only between them. They went everywhere together, they never slept in separate beds even when visiting friends or relatives, they were kind to each other, teased with great ease, laughed a lot together. Much to my mother's embarrassment, they felt that once I turned 16, I was old enough for them to speak openly of their love in both the abstract and yes, in the concrete. I adored them, and I adored being part of their incredible, "real" relationship. The intensity and uniqueness of their love warmed us all.

I am sitting this warm July day on the dock of the cabin my grandfather built almost 63 years ago looking out on the lake where both of their ashes , co-mingled once my grandmother died five years after my grandfather, are now part. I wonder if the strength of the love I was able to observe in a marriage already matured ever suffered from infidelity, or unkindness, or benign neglect. These things I will never know- but this I know is true - however they got there, they shared real friendship, real respect, real joy, real love--no matter what events may have challenged them along the way.

Nancy Fey-Yensan
Interim Dean, College of the Environment & Life Sciences (MORE)

Story #4: A Real Durwan (posted by John McCray, Providence URI)

Donald Brown writes in his study of “Human Universals,” that there is common behavior within the human species across cultural lines due to a common genetic structure. Behavioral differences are created by cultural drift such that though we experience the same basic emotions we may express them differently. Culture directs us as we interpret and respond to life experiences. Hence, different cultures may encourage different responses to the same (or similar) life situations. This is the nature of cultural drift.

For someone from the West the short story, “A Real Durwan,” offers a view of that drift. Its description of television antennas and the Howrah Bridge date the story to the 1950s approximately (The Howrah Bridge was built during World War 2). The fact that the residents still lived in a building with only the basic provisions for sanitation and water says much about the extent of their poverty. Class, caste and gender are omnipresent parts of the story. The old building is the tangible representation of this system where on the highest floor—the third, lives the Dalals whose economic, and therefore social position towers above the others.

Boori Ma is not only the sweeper of the stairway, she is also its keeper, or so the inhabitants of the apartment building believe. She is a comfortable scapegoat, a sympathetic creature who despite the seemingly universal poverty around her is worse off than the others. For this reason she is tolerated as a boost to morale, a reinforcing symbol of a class/caste system that characterized India for centuries. "Yes, I am low," states Boori, "but once I was high," implying in part that anyone can one day be casted out of the upper class/caste. "This is a mouth full of ashes,” laments Mr. Chatterjee. However, whether or not she is telling the truth about her life situation is irrelevant for it serves the purpose of illustrating the uncertainty of the social order. “Believe me or don’t believe me,” Boori Ma states as she highlights the reality of their peculiar institution.

Boori Ma ironically lives on the roof and is not a part of the system; she does not sit on the furniture but rather observes the behavior of those around her. She lives outside the boundaries of the structure and yet she is feeding and being fed by it, surviving like a Blanche Dubois (A Street Car Named Desire) by “depending on the kindness of strangers.” She is the gateway separating the reality of the building from the reality of the outside. But, is she real or just an allegory of the cave?

People are comfortable with consistency and are reactive to change. Thus, when Mr. Dalal introduces the basins expectations change and behaviors change. Everyone is apparently affected, including Boori Ma. But is the change real? Are the imprisoning constraints of class/caste/gender structure different or is the availability of different “things” an illusion of the mind? I am reminded of the interaction between Neo and the bald Potential in the Matrix who advises, “Do not try and bend the spoon, that is impossible. Only try and remember the truth… There is no spoon. Then you will realize that it is not the spoon that bends but only yourself.” It is not the presence of basins that bring about a “new face to the building,” but the changed beliefs and values of the residents. The thefts are reality created from the truth. Thus, Boori Ma is exchanged for another illusion, a “real Durwan.” “Believe me, believe me,” she laments, “…but nothing rattled.”

John McCray, Providence URI (MORE)

Story #7: This Blessed House (posted by W. Lynn McKinney, Dean of the College of Human Science & Services)

We read the story of Sanjeev and Twinkle’s house and its surprise contents from his viewpoint. In this telling, we learn a great deal about him and about his perceptions of Twinkle. We know how fastidious he is, e.g., using Post-its on chipped paint, organizing his college textbooks in alphabetical order, listening to and then studying classical music so he better understands it. He seems professionally ambitious and clearly has been quite successful while still in his early 30’s. He has a commitment to his Indian heritage (at least the culinary aspects of it) although he doesn’t understand how shared ethnic background became a foundation for his pre-wedding social life. He is a bit puzzled at who he invites to their housewarming party, and they clearly are his, and not Twinkle’s, acquaintances and colleagues. There are hints that he would prefer that Twinkle be a traditional Indian bride who would cook and sing and sew.

Twinkle, on the other hand, is portrayed as more carefree. She drops clothing where she takes it off. She is uninterested in mastering the art of Indian cooking--or any cooking. The day of the party she spends significant time getting her nails done while Sanjeev makes final food and beverage preparations. There is no evidence that she is attempting to make any progress on her master’s thesis. Finding the Christian icons throughout the house fascinates her.

As I think about the title of the story, I wonder if the home that Sanjeev and Twinkle have created together is blessed. Do you think the title of this story is ironic? What is your sense of their relationship? Do you see any signs that it is blessed? They married fairly quickly and moved into a house that Sanjeev had selected. Is it possible that she thinks of the house as his and displaying those Christian objects is her way of putting her own stamp on the place?

What about those icons? Most are inexpensive. Why would a Christian family leave them behind? Why would a Hindu family display Christian objects like this?

Do you think that Twinkle and Sanjeev’s ambitions, their values are similar? Theirs is not an arranged marriage although their parents were encouraging of it. Do you think their commitment to the marriage would be different if their parents had arranged it? Do you think they will stay married?

The party seems to be a grand success, with Twinkle at the center. She is beautiful; she is engaging; people pay attention to her and much less so to Sanjeev. The concluding line of the story is that he follows her to the living room where the huge silver bust will go on the mantel. Does your sense of their relationship change at this point? Has Twinkle gained authority in Sanjeev’s eyes? Do you feel differently at the end of the story about how successful their marriage will be?

W. Lynn McKinney
Dean, College of Human Science & Services (MORE)

Story #3: Interpreter of Maladies (posted by Dayle Joseph, Dean of the College of Nursing)

I chose to write my blog on the third story story, Interpreter of Maladies, in part, because I was intrigued that this chapter had the same title as the book. I suspect that the chapter’s title is not a coincidence, but I don’t have a clear answer in my mind if this chapter is in some way pivotal to the entire book. I’ll write more of my thoughts about the title at the end of this blog.
The first time I read this story, I read it purely for the story. On the surface it seemed like a story about guilt. Although it was interesting to read, I can’t say the character’s held my interest as those in The Namesake, which for me was a real “page turner”. I had to remind myself that this was a short story, not a novel. I decided that it was definitely worth a second read.
As I reread the story, I was struck by the rich descriptions. Although I have never been to India, it was easy to imagine the taxi ride. Nor have I ever tasted deep-fried potatoes in graham-flour batter, and I know they are not healthy, but I’m willing to bet they are delectable! And the trip to the sun temple with wild monkeys leaping on the dry, dusty road sounded incredibly interesting. The entire scenario of traveling with children, listening to an interesting taxi driver, and seeing the sights remind me of many trips I’ve taken. There is a certain exhilaration and exhaustion that occurs simultaneously, knowing that you will never again travel this exact route or recapture this exact experience. Have you ever had such an experience?
As you might expect, there is far more than description to this story. The two main characters depict for us similarities and differences that occur in cultures. Most taxi drivers remain fairly anonymous, either remaining silent or talking about the local scenery. In this chapter we learn a lot about Mr. Kapasi. At one point in his life he thought he was going to become an international interpreter, a job held in high esteem. He ends up driving a taxi and working for a physician interpreting the maladies (in this case medical complaints) of clients who cannot communicate with the physician. He is offered the position after his son dies and the doctor realizes that Mr. Kapasi is fluent in a particular dialect that many of his patients speak. Mr. Kapasi’s wife is not impressed with his occupation, and it seems that the marriage is broken. He has known his wife from childhood, when his marriage was arranged, as is traditional in his culture. This may seem like a foreign concept to most of you, but such marriages do exist and many couples build lasting unions that work as well, if not better, than the marriages in our culture. The “day to day” boredom of life has set in and Mr. Kapasi fantasizes that the young Mrs. Das will become his companion. He sees the relationship lasting beyond the taxi ride and is thrilled when she takes his address to send him copies of photos. What’s your opinion about Mr. Kapasi’s fantasy? Do you think this is unusual?
Mrs. Das seems a bit distant. She barely pays attention to her children or husband during the drive. Her husband is enthralled by the scenery and is taking photos, which is typical of tourists. The three children seem to be enjoying the trip and eagerly follow their father to explore the hills; while Mrs. Das remains in the cab with Mr. Kapasi. This is the turning point of the story, as we learn that Mrs. Das’ second son, Bobby, is not her husband’s child. She shares this information with Mr. Kapasi, by first explaining that she has known her husband forever – even speculating that their parents arranged their marriage when they were very young, but let the couple believe that they arranged it themselves. She continues to discuss being a young mother without friends or any real support. She describes one encounter that results in the birth of Bobby and the fact that she has not told anyone. She wants him to make her feel better – to take away her guilt. Why do you think she chose to reveal this to Mr. Kapasi?
Mr. Kapasi thinks about telling her that “honesty is the best policy”. Generally, I tend to agree with this sentiment. However, in this case I am not sure. Should Mrs. Das reveal the truth about Bobby’s father? If so, why? If not, why not? Mrs. Das wants Mr. Kapasi to cure her of her guilt, is this a reasonable request? She sees him as a father figure, not the lover that he imagined he would become. How do you think Mr. Kapasi feels when he realizes this?
The final paragraphs deal with Bobby being lost and frightened by monkeys. The family comes together to assist Bobby and both parents demonstrate their concern and love in several ways. In the end as Mrs. Das removes a brush from her bag, she lets the paper with Mr. Kapasi’s address fly away. What does this symbolize? Are the problems in the Das family irreparable or can they be redressed?
I’ll admit that I haven’t finished the book (nor have I written a blog before this), but I do wonder about the title. The stories that I’ve read all deal with some sort of malady – not always physical. The main characters in Interpreter of Maladies are faced with struggles dealing with unhappiness, emptiness, and guilt. These struggles affect the way they interact with their loved ones. All of us struggle in life – there are no perfect situations. Yet some of us manage to “rise above” our struggles and use them to grow and mature; while others let life’s struggles stifle their ability to live productively. How do you respond to struggles?

- Dayle Joseph
Dean, College of Nursing (MORE)

Story #2: When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine (posted by Mark Higgins, Dean of the College of Business Administration)

The second story in Ms. Lahiri's Pulitzer Prize winning collection is "When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine". This story, similar to the others in this collection, can be examined from many perspectives: the authors, her parents, the main character, or even the setting (i.e., time period). What struck me most was how the time period is so integral to the story. As the story begins, every year her parents would look in the phonebook for people with surnames “familiar to their part of the world”. In essence, her parents were trying to connect with individuals from their native land. In today’s world it is hard to envision Mr. Prizada’s visits and dinner revolving around the nightly news. The dinner’s ingredients, some of which were purchased on the monthly trips to Chinatown, can be found in many of the supermarkets today. It is hard to imagine that the nightly news was the pictorial lifeline for so many people. For many, the pictures were only in black and white. According to the website, TELEVISION HISTORY, it was not until 1972 that more than half of the households had a color television. For someone my age, I was 14 in 1971, I can remember watching the nightly news to get information on the Vietnam War. A war being fought half-way around the world. For Mr. Prizada, the news provided information on the 1971 war that created the country of Bangladesh. I am sure it seems odd to you that people would plan their meals around the “nightly news”.
Today, if you will miss the nightly news you can just TIVO it. Why wait? Just go on the Internet and download the video or get the latest updates from CNN or MSNBC. It is hard to imagine that Mr. Prizada had no way of knowing that his family was safe at his wife’s grandparents estate in the mountains of Shillong. Just as amazing is that the author and her family had to wait for Mr. Prizada’s card commemorating the Muslim New Year to find out his family was safe. This was the world less than 40 years ago! As you begin your time at URI, it should make you wonder what the world will be like four years from now and forty years from now!
-Mark Higgins
Dean, College of Business Administration (MORE)

Story #1: A Temporary Matter (posted by Jayne Richmond, Dean of University College & Special Academic Programs)

The first short story in Ms. Lahiri's collection begins with a touching and quiet story, that makes the reader ask themselves a most monumental question -- why does love die? This young, intelligent, and seemingly happy couple go along in life, well on their way to meeting expectations of parenting and work and family and friends... but then a horrible thing happens when they lose their child, and suddenly all they knew about themselves and each other seems to have changed. The title, "A Temporary Matter", makes you think, maybe this difficult time will pass, maybe like the lights going out and coming back on, their life will too find a way back to normalcy and they will find love again. But that is not always the way life works.
What did this story make you think about in your own life? Have you ever experienced a time when what you expected was suddenly changed, and that made how you feel about everything else change as well? Is saddness a temporary matter that can be overcome, and if so, how? Why do you think they could only begin to talk again when the lights went out? Why do people hurt each other, when they are sharing a loss, rather than find support when they most need it. Why is it so hard to communicate when you are in pain? Why does love die?

- Jayne Richmond
Dean, University College & Special Academic Programs (MORE)

Story #8: The Treatment of Bibi Haldar (posted by Ron Jordan, Dean of the College of Pharmacy

http://www.ushistory.org/Declaration/

July 4, 2009

As we read the Declaration of Independence again today, to better understand what we are celebrating, it reminded us of my chapter of the freshman reading blog and the struggle of Bibi Haldar to pursue her inalienable rights to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. I wondered if the Declaration would have won a Pulitzer Prize had they been awarded in 1776. So what is it that makes a Pulitzer Prize winner? Why had Ms. Lahiri won a prize for this compilation of short stories?

Upon inquiry (http://www.pulitzer.org/ ) we learned that Interpreter of Maladies, had won in the category of Letters, “For distinguished fiction by an American author, preferably dealing with American life…” and had also won the O. Henry Award and The Best American Short Stories award for the title chapter. Surely just as Jhumpa Lahiri did, Jefferson would have been awarded the high honor of recognition by a distinguished jury and larger board of his peers had Joseph Pulitzer lived a couple centuries earlier.

The analogy of the struggle of a nation and an individual against those who oppress them is interesting to ponder. The story provides no context of time. While it is written in retrospect on her life, we know her chronological age, and hear of her biological age as an underlying driver of her struggle and eventual rise to independent living, we do not know from this story alone what decade or century she lived in. Is there oppression for visible afflictions such as Bibi’s still occurring in India or other parts of the world? Do some cultures or geographically or socially isolated peoples still lack understanding of some common and treatable diseases that lead to fear and oppression of the afflicted as a result of limited health literacy? Do various ethnic, religious or family backgrounds lead peoples to rely on alternative or folklore remedies that may or may not have any useful effect on disease? We would guess the answer is yes to all three questions and that there are multiple reasons that need to be explored and understood before that will ever change. The need for better cultural literacy and health literacy throughout the world, and certainly among students who will soon determine the future of our planet, is significant.

Many interesting detailed subjects and threads of analogy and metaphor that are relevant to concerns about health, family, friends and community can be found and made in the story of Bibi. I’m looking forward to seeing the thoughts of students and the community unfold on the blog. Hopefully we can make URI more thoughtful and active in seeking solutions to the problems we note around us than the community surrounding Bibi was. She happened be lucky enough to outlive her affliction as she came of age. One wonders if more active intervention could have made her life more liberated, and happy.

Happy Independence Day!

Dean Ron Jordan

College of Pharmacy

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Thoughts on the Fall 2009 Common Reading

From Chirene Albatal, a Pharmacy Major from Cumberland, RI:
"When I first read Lahiri's The Namesake, I fell in love. I was excited to hear our summer reading this year is her collection of short stories -- Interpreter of Maladies. (MORE)