Unfiltered Humanity: The Brilliant Strangeness of Aparna Sanyal’s “Instruments of Torture
There is exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.
I just happened to drink in “Instruments of Torture” by Aparna Sanyal and boy! Was I blown away or what? Encompassed in sheer pedestals of their own, these tales which revolve around some of the deepest, darkest jaunts of humankind’s pursuits, are delightful dreams as well as raucous nightmares encompassed between these pages. Each of these tales has been aptly named after a medieval torture device, the sheer repercussion of them being embalmed in the folds of the tale and its nuances, What took my breath away was the connection brought about by Sanyal between the story and the cerebral mates she has created through the tales.
Painted like a mirror of “Erised,” these stories will tug at your heartstrings, pulling bare the ligaments that hold together all the logical reasoning that has formed the base of your thinking cogs. For me, the tales were more like “shots of humanity,” albeit served unfiltered, naked to the core, revealing the dark, innermost underbelly of those forbidden desires and rendezvous that inhabit and explore the realms of reality unabashedly. Disempowered yet elevated elegantly, each story is set in its own space, time and frame, staying with you for long after you are done with them. Each one felt like a pinch in the soul, baring me into some of those unrestricted, unsought areas of fallible ethnological peripheries that tend to rule our times.
Trigger warning alert, guys-these tales, albeit deeply satisfying, are also highly unsettling, courtesy themes of rape, mental and physical abuse, and suicide, not to mention all those “other” jaunts Aparna has taken us through in these bolts of her writing prowess.
Take the tales “The Scold’s Bridle,” “The Iron Maiden,” or even “The Chastity Belt,” for instance. Reshu, his entire persona, the build-up of that cardinal, the sexual tension between him and Amba, and the delight and rejuvenation arising out of the “exhibitionism” between the two Sanyal painted such a multi-hued frame, that I was left gasping for breath. There is something oddly satisfying about the tale in a rather dark, cardinal yet exotic manner, something you know you ought not to go towards but will be drawn to automatically.
Likewise, with “The Rack”, Raghu’s fight with societal expectations, witnessing his internal turmoil becoming his new home, was nerve-racking. There was this strangely gruesome sort of pallor to it. And yet, despite its ghoulish feel, the outcome hit me differently.
To sum it up, this is a book that, for me and for anyone who decides to pick it up, will surely overshine all the expected paradigms of excellence big time, leaving them doused in a wave of brilliant recognitions of the raunchy saunters of us humans. kaleidoscopic perception, flawlessly captivating writing, lucid language, and also an excellent ensemble of tales that paint the quests and quell the quirks of the human mind.
Stunning writing! This is one book you simply cannot miss for the world, guys.
