Silent Journeys Benyamin
As the title suggests, Silent Journeys is a book that chronicles the lives of silent individuals who go unnoticed yet lead remarkable lives. It documents the undocumented and brings a gentle light into the invisible and the forgotten. One such story is Mariamma’s — a young nurse who travels from a small town in Kerala across the globe. The novel is a representation of the terrific, unrecognised lives that nurses like Marimma lead, and their journeys to all the crooks and crevices of the world. Her strength is identified by her curious great-grandson, who decides to go on a mission to uncover truths about her life. We’re in conversation with the author, Benyamin, and translator, Anoop Prathapan on the nuances of the novel.
In our conversation with Benyamin, we extensively discussed his writing process, the power of fiction and the future of storytelling in India.
Mariamma’s journey, like those of many forgotten women in history, is both epic and invisible. What inspired you to tell this kind of story?
I discovered the character Mariamma while researching some histories to write the next part of a novel that tells the story of my village. I was surprised to learn that a woman from my country was with the British in World War II. Then, as I continued my research, I came across the lives of women, especially nurses, who had gone to different countries in search of work at different times. But all of that remained untold, unknown histories. I came to this novel with the conviction that telling these stories is the mission of a writer.
The novel spans geographies, from Kerala to the Arctic and remote parts of Africa. How did you research and imagine these unfamiliar landscapes through the eyes of the protagonist?
Once I get an idea for a novel, I do as much research and investigation as I can about it. For this novel, I did a huge amount of research at the National Archives of Singapore. I collected folk tales. I met many nurses in person and listened to their experiences. Then, I went to Tanzania and understood the country. I studied many war records. Keeping all of this within me, when I sit down to write a story, I look at these places I researched through the eyes of the character.
You’ve often written about migration, but this time it is through the lens of a woman travelling alone. How did writing from Mariamma’s perspective shift your usual approach?
Yes, having been an expatriate for many years, I have written about its many facets. Many writers have written about it. But most of them have focused on the journeys of men and the problems they faced in migration. But women have also made similar journeys. They have faced greater problems than men. In many countries, women arrived before men. They travelled to unknown countries, taking on the responsibility of saving their entire families from starvation. I did not doubt that when I told their story, it would be through the eyes of women.
What kind of research went into the creation of this book that focuses primarily on nurses?
Kerala is known to be a country of nurses. Nurses from Kerala receive a lot of respect and love from all around the world. It is the result of their hard work and dedication. In my own family, my wife, sisters, and many aunts from different generations are nurses. They work in the Gulf, Europe, America, and Africa. I have been able to gather experiences from all of them. I have also referred to the books in which they have recorded their past experiences.
Your decision to frame Mariamma’s story through the eyes of her great-grandson adds another layer. What drew you to this narrative structure?
As the novel itself says, most of us barely know our grandparents' generation. We don't know what jobs many of them had, where they travelled, or how hard their lives were. Many children in the new generation have the impression that the comforts and fortunes they enjoy now came very easily. This story is designed to change that by revealing the investigation of a character from the newest generation. Through this, the changes in our perspective as time changes, the likes and dislikes of the new generation, and the strength they have acquired to make decisions, all come into the novel like another layer.
What are you working on — what does the future look like?
My new novel, Mulberry, tell me about your Zorba, will be released next month. One layer of the novel is the life of Shelvy, who was the editor and publisher of Mulberry Books and made a great contribution to the history of Malayalam book publishing in the eighties and nineties. The second layer of the novel contains some new observations about his favourite writer, Nikos Kazantzakis, and his character, Zorba. The third layer is a journey that Daisy, Shelvey’s wife and co-founder of Mulberry, later takes through Greece. It is a different kind of novel that explores the reading, writing, and publishing of that time.
In India, where religious rule and totalitarianism are gaining strength, it is not easy to speak true politics openly. But this is where I realize the importance of fiction. We can hide some truths through fiction that cannot be spoken directly. We can tell the world that this is the reality of today. Even though stories are lies, they are mirrors held up to time. Therefore, I believe that fiction has a historical and political mission to fulfil in India in the future.
We were also lucky enough to speak to Anoop Prathapan, the translator of Silent Journeys, who shared with us his precious thoughts on language, form and narratorial voice.
What is your relationship with Malayalam and English?
Malayalam is my mother tongue, and I cultivated proficiency in English as my second language from my school days. My reasonable command of the language was evident from an early age; notably, I scored 97% in English in 10th standard, achieving the State's second-highest mark that year. This aptitude was complemented by a deep love for reading and writing, which I consistently pursued outside academics, even assisting peers. My passion for English, in all its facets, persisted diligently through my demanding medical college years and beyond.
Tell me about your translation process. Take us step by step.
My approach to translation is straightforward: I read a chapter, grasp its essence, and then reimagine how it would have been originally conceived in an English novel. The resulting text, crafted with carefully chosen words, is what I write down. I do not read the book fully before translation, as a personal choice; instead, I prefer to go chapter by chapter, and the story unfolds even to me only as I write, so that my excitement stays. Essentially, I don't merely translate the content; I rewrite it in English. To borrow from cinema, I aim to deliver an English remake of the original, rather than an English dub. That ideology gives me a chance to improve the text with added information (or omit unnecessary information in an English context) if required, giving it more clarity and appeal when published in English.
What were the biggest challenges in translating Mariamma’s voice and conveying the complexity of her interiority?
Mariamma was such an astonishing character in Mr. Benyamin’s Nishabda Sancharagal, who had several layers to herself. The style of communication of those days needed to be converted to the English of that age, not the current, modern English. That was a reasonable challenge. I am not sure how much I have succeeded in that. Mariamma’s narrative is raw, defiant, and devastatingly honest. So, that requires more of an emotional calibration than technical perfection. Her silences and emotional detours also needed to be felt in the English text as they did in the Malayalam original, and these, I think, were quite considerable challenges.
Were there specific Malayalam words or cultural references that resisted translation? How did you navigate those moments?
Indeed, there were countless such instances. In these cases, I chose not to translate certain Malayalam words, retaining them in the main text and providing explanatory footnotes. I was convinced that a direct translation would have stripped the narrative of its innate charm. Approximately 95% of these 37 footnotes comprise Malayalam words that I deliberately kept untranslated, guiding readers to the bottom of the page for their meanings. The explanation of their family name “Parakkunnel” was a classic example. (footnote 13 on page 96)
Given the novel’s focus on untold women’s histories, how does your translation give this story a new voice?
Translation, from my perspective, is an inherent act of amplifying a text's visibility. In Silent Journeys, my intent was not to bestow a new voice upon the Malayali characters, but to grant them an additional one—a resonance that can now ripple across distant geographies and dissolve social boundaries. Such narratives must break free from the limitations of their language and cultural geography, finding new societies and arenas to shed light on our heritage for lands previously unaware of us.
Words Neeraja Srinivasan
7.07.2025