Context in Storytelling
TLDR — Too Long Didn’t Read. How many times has it happened to you? Happens to me all the time. I have come across posts and articles that I should probably love and yet given it a miss once I get started on it. Obviously, it is not because the subject matter did not interest me.
So why? Here is my attempt to answer a question which perhaps has been addressed by wiser minds.
Firstly, the lack of context. I feel like if the writer and reader do not establish context, they will fail to communicate. What was the timeframe? What were the people like? Where did it happen, and what was the place like? A lot of — perhaps extraneous detail — goes to establish the context. But you have to say it in two lines. A tall order, right?
Secondly, the assumptions implicit in the narrative. We assume that people are constantly evolving and ergo, our generation is smarter than our previous generations. It is perhaps even true in a limited way. We have learned from our parents’ mistakes. But then, it is also true that we have been shielded from our parents’ mistakes. Then there are disasters, big and small, private and affecting communities, natural and manmade, that wipe out memories and learning and force us to start afresh. Humankind has been on the brink of extinction many times, I understand. It is absurd to think the generation after a disaster was smarter than the one before.
So what is my point?
Just this. There should be an implicit understanding and agreement of implied assumptions between a storyteller and a listener to achieve that smooth, quick connection.
Secondly, the listener should understand the context.
Let me illustrate. I have told my kids a story about my mother’s paternal grandmother. This is a story that my mother told me, and I don’t know who told her. My great grandmother’s husband’s family was very wealthy. Her husband was a reasonably successful lawyer. I don’t quite know precisely when, but sometime during the early part of the twentieth century, she lost her husband. I have a vague memory it was influenza. She had five young children and no support on her husband’s side. According to family lore, she sought her brothers’ help, and they asked her to come and live with them. The condition seems to have been that she dissolves her assets and hands them over to her brothers in return for allowing her to live with them.
My mother tells me that she handed her brothers a pot of gold. Even at that age, I would wonder about the size of that pot. Was the pot itself made of gold? In any case, it was some pot, perhaps an earthenware pot or a brass pot filled with gold coins and ornaments. The brothers took it. And soon, started treating her, and more importantly, her children, abominably. The kids had menial chores, and they were designed to break their spirits and show them their place in the scheme of things.
My aunt, who was a lot more emotional than my mother, got into graphic detail. I must tell you that I almost didn’t believe her many times, but perhaps, I didn’t quite get the context. When Ramakkamma, my great grandmother, reminded them of the wealth she had given them, they scoffed at her and told her no wealth lasted forever, especially when six mouths had to be fed every day.
Anyway, one day, my grandfather, a lad of some eleven or twelve, was beaten for some small offense and decided he had had it. His school work was suffering, and he would not get anywhere if he was abused daily. He and his older brother decided to walk to Bangalore along the train tracks. His older brother joined high school, and they were admitted to a free hostel. At this point, the details get blurred.
My grandfather was a success, at least at some level. He would go on to get two M.Sc. degrees in Botany and Zoology, even though he failed to realize his ambition of becoming a doctor. He was Maharaja Jaya Chamarajendra Wodeyar’s private tutor. When my mother was little, I know he was an Inspector of Schools in the Mysore state. He went through immense financial hardships. Because he was the most successful among four brothers, he had to implicitly shoulder helping out the family. And his sister was widowed.
Back to the context.
I will never understand my mother’s hardships, let alone my grandmother or my great grandmother. My mother would probably never share the gory details of her life, and even if she did, I might not have had the compassion, empathy, or leisure to listen to her. When I had the wherewithal to listen, perhaps she had no mood to tell me. We miss so many stories this way.
I used to think how stupid of my great grandmother not to have managed her property independently and brought up her kids on her own.
This is a typical mistake that most readers, sometimes, even writers make. The context is different. The social and economic milieu of today is so different from five generations ago. Was it appropriate for women to work outside the family? Was it easy?
She had a daughter. Perhaps she had to worry about how her image would affect her daughter. At this juncture, I can hear protests about patriarchy and how women were treated as inferior beings. But it was during the British rule. During the 1920s, even in Mysore, the reverberations of Moplah riots would be felt. Perhaps families were especially apprehensive for single women. Context.
I wondered why she didn’t bank her assets. I don’t even know if retail banking was easy during those times. Context.
So here is the punchline.
We miss out on many of our ancient stories from Puranas and Itihasas, just like this, either because the context is missing or because we can’t understand it through knowledge or language barriers. Every story is a stick figure story if events are retold bereft of context. Like my great grandmother, Ramakkamma’s story. A young widow with five children, she was cheated out of her gold by her own brothers. When narrated within a family’s context, it is a story of loss and struggle, hope, and victory. But it could potentially be a social commentary when the context becomes broader and more inclusive.
The art of storytelling is in conveying the context without explicitly referring to it. That is what I would like to do.
As always, let me know if I missed something, or if you would like to add something. It would enrich the context.
