From Kizhakkeppattu Ramankutty Menon to Ayyappa Paniker



Kerala Studies has become something of a buzzword in the academic corridors of the state. From curriculum designs to research initiatives, there’s a visible momentum gathering around this emerging field. But what’s fuelling this surge of interest? At its heart lies a powerful mix of impulses: the growing appeal of regional studies, a conscious move to decolonise knowledge systems, and a bold effort to reclaim and politicise the many-layered story of Kerala itself. This isn’t just an academic exercise—it’s a cultural reimagining. And this is where Samyukta: A Journal of Women’s Studies etched its name into the evolving narrative of Kerala Studies—quietly, boldly, and with lasting impact.

They say you shouldn’t start with a frame before knowing what picture you want to paint. That’s exactly the misstep Kerala Studies would have made had it relied solely on pre-set academic or political templates. What the field needed—and still needs—is curiosity without assumptions and the courage to look in unexpected places. At this juncture,  Samyukta: A Journal of Women’s Studies (now Samyukta: A Journal of Gender and Culture) enters the picture—not just as a publication, but as a gentle yet transformative force that redefined the contours of Kerala’s intellectual and cultural discourse.

From the very beginning, founding editor Prof. G.S. Jayasree approached Kerala’s literary and cultural landscapes with razor-sharp insight and an unflagging passion for critical inquiry. What Prof. Jayasree and the journal offered wasn’t just content, but context—rich, layered, and often retrieved from the margins. Samyukta has never chased the mainstream; instead, it has redefined it.

Take, for instance, the long-overlooked novel Parangodi Parinayam (1892) by Kizhakkeppattu Ramankutty Menon. Often dismissed as a poor cousin to Indulekha (1889), it reveals, in fact, a unique and irreverent postcolonial sensibility. In 2004, Samyukta did what few others dared: it published the novel’s English translation by Sulochana Rammohan, shining light on a work that had languished in obscurity.

Or consider The Land of the Conch Shell (1901), Augusta Blandford’s vivid account of her missionary years in Travancore. Buried in libraries and nearly forgotten, it found new life through its re-publication in Samyukta in 2006. The text not only documents a specific cultural moment but helps us reimagine the lens through which Kerala has been viewed—both by insiders and outsiders.

The journal’s commitment to unearthing women’s voices in Kerala is equally striking. In 1948, when most women around the world were still struggling to claim public space, the Antharjana Samajam—a group of Namboothiri women—wrote and staged Thozhilkendrattilekku (To the Workplace), a revolutionary play. Cloistered women broke free, at least on stage, to demand labour rights and dignity. In 2010, Samyukta made this moment accessible to a wider audience through the translation by Anjana Shankar. 

While the narratives mentioned above spotlighted the key turning points in Kerala’s cultural and political history, Samyukta was quietly dismantling another boundary—that between the literary and the non-literary. Parangodi Parinayam and Thozhilkendrattilekku (To the Workplace), though rooted in literary tradition, doubled as rich historical documents, offering textured glimpses into the socio-political pulse of their times. In contrast, The Land of the Conch Shell defies easy classification—moving fluidly across history, geography, demography, and sociology. It unsettles neat genre boundaries, becoming a hybrid text that challenges us to rethink how we categorise knowledge itself.

Samyukta was never confined by the boundaries of gender when it came to curating voices that shaped Kerala’s intellectual heritage. Kizhakkeppattu Ramankutty Menon, one of the earliest writers featured, set the tone for the journal’s expansive vision. To deepen its dialogue with Kerala’s layered realities—its histories, cultures, and social complexities—the journal has consistently opened its pages to writers who capture the region in all its contradictions and richness.

Among them stands Ayyappa Paniker, a literary figure who eluded easy labels. Poet, scholar, cultural theorist—Paniker’s presence marked a turning point in Malayalam literature. As the torchbearer of modernism and a titan of literary criticism, his contributions redefined the literary taste of tge readers. Samyukta honoured his legacy in its commemorative issue, Vol.7 No.1 (2007)  that brought together a constellation of critical essays, translation of Pathumanipookkal (Poetry at Midnight), and  reprint of the English translation of his epic Gotrayanam (Soundbound). This special issue did not just celebrate a literary giant—it ensured that his work travels beyond linguistic and geographic borders. It included a detailed Biblio article to spark and support future research into his vast body of work.

So, here’s the bottom line - these are not just journal entries; they are archival interventions. At a time when Kerala Studies was barely gaining momentum, Samyukta was already doing the foundational work—quietly, rigorously, and with vision.

This blog captures only a handful of those groundbreaking moments—episodes that highlight the journal’s role in shaping, preserving, and enriching Kerala’s cultural memory. In future posts, I’ll continue tracing this journey and explore how Samyukta continues to breathe life into Kerala Studies in ways that are bold, necessary, and unforgettable.

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