Malabar's literary belt loses one more star

KOZHIKODE: Abkar Kakkattil’s departure was the last time, when Malabar wept for a popular writer. This time, it is their Kunjikka, as Dr Punathil Kunjabdulla was fondly called. He was a physician, lover of human, man and woman alike, he celebrated his life, and enjoyed being called an anarchist, never letting the society conform him to the set rules of life. Apart from literary calibre, Punathil will be remembered for his circle of thick friends, as writer Mukundan pointed out.

In his last days in Kozhikode, Mukundan had visited his best friend, and told media that the kind of friendship they shared would be rare among the writers. 

Coming from neighbouring Vadakara and Mayyazhi (Mahe), both of them shared the pulse of the land and used the myths of their villages skillfully in their work. 

Writer Kalpetta Narayanan remembers Punathil as a writer, who could ‘grab’ the readers of all types of writers. 

“MT has a certain set of readers while O.V. Vijayan and Muttathu Varkey had another set. None of them read the other, but all of them read Punathil.”

Instead of copying the land and its customs as such, his imagination moulds them into a new existence, creates a new land from the same village that you see everyday. Even the villagers wonder if their Orkkatteri market, Karakkad and Madappally had this much in stock for Punathil to recreate. His writings came in a period, when the Malayalam literature was dominated by slangs of Travancore, Kottayam and Valluvanadu. His attitude, clearly discarding the religious values that he was part of, also drew flak, when he said, once died, his body should be cremated and ashes should be scattered in a river, that it eventually reaches sea. His candidature under the banner of BJP from Beypore Assembly was also taken by surprise, but not to the people who knew his eccentricities.

‘Iam saddened beyond words’

S. Saradakutty, Writer

Once, Punathil Kunh-abdulla, called me. When I replied that I am on voice rest and could not talk, he said that this was a trick employed by women for not answering phone from men. I told him that as there were scratches in my vocal cord, I had to take rest for one month. He then told me about a medicine for that and how to administer it. Even now I consume VNB Ghratavum and VNB Choornam, once every year. He told me that the name VNB was given to the medicine as it had given back Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhagavathar the sound he once lost, to ensure that I did not forget the name of the medicine. 

The affection gave back the voice that had turned harsh. It is difficult to convert the sadness some death creates into words.