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Yellow Fish: Portrait of a colored narrative.

- Imcharenla Longchar

Yellow fish demands rapt attention from a reader, utilizing very shrewdly the flow of a character’s trail of
consciousness, distinctive to Ambai's many works. In a narration equal part saddening and thought-
provoking, Ambai alludes carefully to colors and symbols as descriptions of each setting. She is successful in
skilfully weaving a plot evenly-paced, her antagonistic views to prevalent social practices veiled but
palpable.

There is no preamble, no incentive. Yellowfish begins in the suspension of a moment. A white boat, stark
against a “faded blue ash- grey sea” yet not very subtle itself approaches the shoreline. The sea in this
instance is as desolate as her current state of mind, so immersed in grief that the hues of fisherwomen
eagerly on their way to receive the day’s bounty no longer appeal to the aesthetic eye. They are “blinding,
demonic, profound, assaulting”. The moment that immediately follows is one of chaos, a kaleidoscope of
overwhelming activities from darkened hands to crowded colors of saris. As fishermen mechanically sort
out the catch, their seasoned hands dispose of a fish of the palest yellow. From the perspective of the
woman, its coloring is synonymous with the dying vestiges of withering leaves, speckled with black spots.
Although the act is mentioned only in passing, the author is evidently reprimanding the human tendency to
glean what appears attractive. It is also at this juncture that Ambai very carefully attributes movement to
the yellow pigment of a being. The fish struggles and leaps punctuated briefly by gasps. Its desperate
movements and affiliation to the sea remind the protagonist of her infant daughter, lost too soon
convulsing in a manner similar to the scene before her. Like the yellow fish to the sea, Jalaja too was
modeled after the image of she who rises above the waters, a lotus. The creature was therefore
reminiscent of her daughter, gasping in synchrony to a mouth that opened and closed. Ambai reiterates
consistently on the word “mouth” which encapsulates the brevity of the entire episode, expanding later to
describe the opening of the jar containing her daughter’s ashes. Readers are then allowed a more intimate,
first- hand revelation of an anxious mother constantly following her daughter’s struggling efforts at survival.

The scene that ensues is one of patent detachment. It is also a more personal introduction to the
characters, centering on the strain of an unfortunate setback. Here more than anywhere else, the mouth is
heavily stressed upon. It becomes an object of disagreement between the couple, Arun with his realistic
approach contradicted by Anu’s emotional attachment. For Anu, the mouth of both the urn and the yellow
fish is equivalent to that of her daughter. The constricted mouth is too painful a reminder and it is at this
point that Anu becomes assertive against her husband’s dense pragmatism. Arun finally relents to what
may have been, for him, a nonsensical demand. The ashes are returned to the sea and almost immediately
Anu turns her attention to the fish. She springs to action, first attempting the rescue in the cusps of her
palms and on its failure, a leaf. When both prove unfruitful she summons a fisherboy to perform the task
who leaves it before an impending wave.

The mouth is symbolic in more ways than one. When placed within a larger frame it is an embodiment of
Anu's emotional upheaval, bottled without reprieve. Underlining the inability of a human to voice mental
health concerns, especially women, Ambai carefully peels the layers of society's palisades. For a man, any
display of affection is labeled as a fragility to be avoided on his end; sensitivity to a woman's domain. In
highlighting the exchange between the pair, the author draws attention to the emotional divide which is
further perpetuated by gender disparity. In removing the cloth from the urn’s mouth, Anu performs a favor
not only to the memory of her daughter but also to herself. The act is a physical manifestation of her
emotional outpouring.

It is also worthwhile to mention that the words ‘yellow’ and ‘fish’ consistently occur together, perhaps as
gentle reminders by Ambai of hope. Yellow has long been a beacon of positivity in many cultural traditions
and regardless of its pale hue, the fish carries on it this memento. As it sputters back to health, confidently
leaping towards the sea, Anu experiences a moment of redemption, if not liberation. It remains clear yellow
for a long time after.

Ambai, in broad and masterful strokes, paints the image of a grieving mother, held against the backdrop of
themes unique to her interests. Unapologetically employing literary techniques, she offers an insight into
the mental churnings of her protagonist in an inner quest to fulfillment and expression. The Yellow fish in
its artistic construction is nothing short of a realistic image unfolding as it occurs. Only this time around, as
empty canvasses seeded within the contours of our minds; a color upon another, until a pastel release.

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