Couched in fiction, ‘Fourteen Springs of Separation’ allows Jind Kaur — the legendary queen of Maharaja Ranjit Singh and the mother of Duleep Singh — to make a majestic re-entry into public memory. Sakoon Singh writes with fervent purpose and her background in academics shines as her work benefits from meticulous research. The book pays homage to the oral traditions of the dhadhis (folk singers) who have sung of the Queen and whose narratives have been crucial to the folk traditions of Punjab.
Told through multiple narrators, the novel reads like an investigative thriller as the protagonists — Sam, Mehr, Angad and Shaminder, who come from different walks of life — converge because of their interest in Jind Kaur. It is through their eyes that we see her story unfold.
The novel leaps over centuries with ease as it goes back and forth, weaving a tapestry that intersperses Jind Kaur’s life with the issues that plague the world and, in particular, Punjab today. The Queen comes out in vivid detail. Her legendary spunk blazes across the pages as she restlessly seeks a way to reconnect with her son and avenge the wrongdoings of the Empire.
At one point, while being served tea in Queen Victoria’s presence, she makes pointed remarks upon recognising the teacup as it was part of the loot that the British took away from the toshakhana. And this happens while she is expected to curry favour with Victoria. One cannot help but admire her characterisation.
Sakoon Singh has fleshed out all the characters and ensured that no one is lost in the polyphony. One ends up thinking of Dan Brown’s ‘The Da Vinci Code’ or Amitav Ghosh’s ‘Ibis Trilogy’ or ‘Gun Island’ in the course of reading the novel.
The author ensures that the fictionality of the narrative is remembered while retaining the historicity. And this balancing act is crucial and indeed ethical.
Sakoon Singh tries to draw attention to the customary ways in which women with strong personalities are painted as immoral or power hungry in order to de-legitimise their stories, or to justify their exclusion from the histories that are theirs to claim.
The novel is written with a clear sense of purpose, a balance of passion and calm, fervent love and scholarly detachment. It is history with the gaze fixed firmly on the here and now. This level of control over the urge to chronicle events of the past and yet maintain creativity is enviable.
The novel loves its Queen. And thanks to it, the tale of one of India’s strongest queens storms back into public consciousness. The title is an acknowledgement of the number of years Jind Kaur was separated from her son.
Jind Kaur’s story brings with it the urgent questions of bodily autonomy, gender bias, maternal rights, colonial scarring and the alternate ways of reading history — not just from books, but from the rhythms of the land and its people.
The book is brilliantly multilingual, with the songs of the dhadhis in praise of Jind Kaur and the lovely cadences of Punjabi, as characters slip in and out of languages.
Reading it made me feel that I too was in the presence of a dhadhi, a bard.
— The reviewer teaches at All Saints’ College, Thiruvananthapuram
