Samskara 

is set in Durvasapura , an agrahara , a closed-off brahmin community

that lives according to tightly -- and ultimately suffocatingly -- circumscribed rules
and norms, the weight of tradition now crushing a community that is unable to
adapt.

       The story begins with the death of Naranappa . Long a thorn in the side of the
community, as he had undermined the local ways every which way possible, he
nevertheless had not been excommunicated and was still technically one of their
own. In death this became a problem that previously they managed to sidestep:
hard caste rules mean that only a brahmin can handle the body, and the appropriate
rites can only be performed by a relative or, if need be, another brahmin. However,
given who Naranappa was -- "a smear on the good name of the agrahara" --, no
one wants to associate themselves with performing the vital rites for him.

       Matters are further complicated by Naranappa's concubine Chandri throwing

her gold jewelry into the ring, as it were, offering it to anyone willing to perform
the rites. The two thousand rupees worth of gold is a fortune to the villagers, and
obviously a great temptation -- yet no one wants to be seen as having been bought
off, so in fact Chandri's offer makes it even more difficult for anyone to step
forward.
       There is also considerable urgency to resolving this problem. Not only does a
corpse not fare well in this climate, but caste rules are firm:

According to ancient custom, until the body is properly removed there can be no worship, no
bathing, no prayers, no food, nothing.

       Indeed, as soon as village guru Praneshacharya learns of Naranappa's death he

madly rushes to the others in the village to make sure they don't take even a bite of
food. So:
Naranappa Naranappa Alive, was an enemy ; dead, a preventer of meals ; as a
corpse , a problem , a nuisance.
       The community looks to Praneshacharya -- not yet forty, but the most learned
and devoted brahmin, and treated like the local wise old man -- to find a solution,
trusting him to get this important matter right (and reminding him: "The
brahminism of your entire sect is in your hands. Your burden is great.").
Praneshacharya consults the religious books, but is paralyzed by the issues. He
carries his own burden, too: his wife of twenty years is an invalid, and so in some
respects he has not been able to live the life expected of him, either -- no sex, no
family beyond the ill wife -- and clearly the rigid rules of this community leave
him feeling boxed in.
       As he eventually recognizes:
But, my dilemma, my decision, my problem wasn't just mine, it included the entire agrahara. This is the root of
the difficulty, the anxiety, the double-bind of dharma. When the question of Naranappa's death-rites came up, I
didn't try to solve it for myself. I depended on God, on the old Law Books. Isn't this precisely why we have
created the Books ? Because there's this deep relation between our decisions and the whole community. In every
act we involve our forefathers, our gurus, our gods, our fellow humans. Hence this conflict.
       It is Chandri who takes matters into her own hands again in dealing with what
becomes of Naranappa. Praneshacharya's inability to make a decision is, in a way,
ultimately freeing: he has failed, but Chandri's solution is presumably the best
outcome for this bad situation. And Praneshacharya also moves further from the
constricting bonds of the community -- finding release with Chandri, and then
going on what amounts, in a way, to a pilgrimage, facing a world in which he
encounters much that goes against what the small community permits, even as he
debates what path to choose.
       Naranappa had once told Praneshacharya: "Your text and rites don't work any
more", and his death seems emphatic proof of that. And, as others note:
     'If you really look -- how many real brahmins are there in this kali age, Manjayya ?'
     'I agree, I agree, Acharya-re. The times are rotten, it's true.'
       And even Praneshacharya, the embodiment of a 'real brahmin', ultimately fails
to fully live up to the exacting standards of caste.
       The rot is evident throughout Samskara, too, beyond just the moral rot, with
the decomposing body and the rats and cockroaches. Death is pervasive, too, and
as the plague sweeps through the area Naranappa is not the only one to die, with
others, outside the community and within it, also succumbing.
       Praneshacharya, long devoted entirely to the cause and tradition, is forced
(and/or allowed) by circumstance to question it, freed, over the course of the story,
from several of his burdens. Tellingly, however, Ananthamurthy does not offer a
resolution here: Samskara remains open-ended.
       Samskara is an effective tale of a community choked by unsustainable
tradition. Ananthamurthy offers fine portraits of a variety of characters as they
struggle between natural urges and societal expectations, and has crafted an
impressive story here.

- M.A