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Book Review: On the Banks of the Pampa by Volga translated by Purnima Tammireddy.

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  • Post last modified:July 14, 2025
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Author: Volga
Translator: Purnima Tammireddy
Publisher: Harpercollins India

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Summary

On the Banks of the Pampa is not just a book. It’s an experience. It’s a song of healing, of memory, of return. For readers who love mythological retellings, feminist narratives, and lyrical writing, this is a gem not to be missed.  It is gentle yet fierce, quiet yet revolutionary. It’s one of those books that lingers in the mind and in the heart. A radiant, unforgettable read that I’ll be returning to again and again.

5

Review:

“What does the universe lose if we don’t exist?”

This one line made me pause, reflect, and rethink everything. How a seemingly simple question can carry such profound weight, that’s the power of Volga’s writing.

Having loved The Liberation of Sita, I was drawn to On the Banks of the Pampa the moment I came across it. I knew it would be another masterpiece, and it truly is, soulful, lyrical, and deeply moving. Volga once again breathes life into a forgotten voice from mythology, this time giving us the story of Sabari – not just as a devotee, but as a thinker, a seeker, and a powerful presence in her own right.

We all know the name Sabari — the devoted woman who waited years for Rama, offering him berries she first tasted herself. We’ve all heard stories of Sabari and Lord Rama, from various retellings and interpretations. But in this book, Volga offers a reimagined lens, a compelling new perspective. Who was Sabari, beyond that act of devotion?  What was her story before she met Rama? What made her wait, and who was her guru, Matanga Muni? Volga dares to go deeper. She reimagines Sabari not as a footnote in Rama’s story, but as the centre of her own universe. This novel doesn’t just ask these questions; it answers them with grace and wisdom.

Sabari, a child of the Aranyavasi, is uprooted and relocated with her parents.  But what they encounter is a horrific city governed by harsh rules, cruel systems and a life that feels more like imprisonment. When Sabari finds a moment to flee, she escapes, unsure of her parents’ fate, but determined to reclaim her freedom. She wakes up on the banks of the Pampa, where she reunites with her guru, Matanga Muni. From that moment on, the forest becomes her world, not just a shelter, but a place of spiritual liberation. In the calm of the forest, in the wisdom of her guru, she rediscovers herself. She listens, she learns, and she transforms.

Living in his ashram, Sabari soaks in his stories — tales of pain, wisdom (Jnanam), and resistance. Stories of how the city treated those like them with inhumanity. She becomes not only a student but a messenger carrying forward her guru’s legacy while finding her own voice. Sabari becomes a vessel of stories — carrying the pain of the past, the teachings of her guru, and a quiet determination to live in harmony with nature. The forest is no longer just a backdrop, but a living, breathing companion. Pampa becomes her home, her healer, and her sacred ground. She learns to live in rhythm with nature, not above it or separate from it. She listens to the forest, speaks to the wind, and allows the universe to shape her understanding of love, power, and existence.

After Matanga’s passing, Sabari continues in solitude with Kabanda, who helps her manage the ashram and what a presence he is. I loved Kabanda’s role in the book. His grounded, loyal spirit adds warmth and charm to the story. His quiet strength feels like the comforting hum of the forest itself. His encounter with Rama and Lakshman is especially memorable. Not only because of the significance of that meeting, but for the way he describes the beauty of Pampa, its rhythms, its life. Through his eyes, we are not just told about the forest – we begin to live there. His narration draws us in, making the forest feel sacred and alive.

One day, a city-dweller named Sutapa visits the ashram and tells her about Rama, who is now wandering the forest.  Something awakens in her, and she begins to wait, but not passively. Her wait is filled with presence, purpose, and preparation. She knows that her meeting with Rama isn’t just destiny, it’s a message. This is not just the story of a mythical devotee waiting for Rama — it is a story of liberation, spiritual awakening, and oneness with nature. It’s a reflection on how society treats the “other,” on the wisdom that exists beyond structured religion and power, on how nature can be both mirror and guide.

Volga’s writing is poetic yet grounded, layered with emotion, wisdom, and sharp critique. Purnima Tammireddy’s translation captures that rhythm and richness beautifully. The prose flows with clarity and grace, allowing the soul of the original Telugu to shine through.  The narrative flows gently, yet holds the power to shift your perspective on mythology, on womanhood, on spirituality, and on nature.  Volga’s storytelling is immersive. Through richly drawn scenes and subtle emotional currents, we are invited into Sabari’s inner world. Her grief is quiet, but immense. Her strength is gentle, but unshakable. Her transformation is gradual, but radical. She doesn’t just write Sabari’s story; she invites us into it. We walk with her, feel her pain, her healing, and her quiet strength.

“I recommend a way of life that fosters nothing but love and compassion. Stop this relentless pursuit of the universe’s buried secrets. Instead, listen to its whispers. Our existence will find its meaning if we develop a keen ear for the subtle murmurs of the universe.”

These lines stayed with me. A gentle reminder to slow down, listen, and live intentionally. It’s lines like these that make the novel feel like more than just a story. Every chapter feels like an offering. A glimpse into Sabari’s heart. A journey into stillness. A lesson in listening, not just to people, but to trees, rivers, birds, and the quiet hum of the universe. Through Sabari’s eyes, we’re reminded of the small miracles we overlook every day: the kindness of a breeze, the strength in waiting, the quiet companionship of trees, and the way stories carry us and change us.

What I admire most is how Volga never makes Sabari dependent on Rama for her identity. Her life has depth and meaning on its own. Her connection with Rama is just one part of a much larger journey of awakening, of healing, and of living consciously.

On the Banks of the Pampa is not just a book. It’s an experience. It’s a song of healing, of memory, of return. For readers who love mythological retellings, feminist narratives, and lyrical writing, this is a gem not to be missed.  It is gentle yet fierce, quiet yet revolutionary. It’s one of those books that lingers in the mind and in the heart. A radiant, unforgettable read that I’ll be returning to again and again.

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This Post Has 2 Comments

  1. Retellings play a vital role in keeping ancient stories relevant and accessible to modern audiences. Nice review.

    1. Vidhya Thakkar

      Thank You

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