Parthiban's Dream

 

My child! I fervently wish that the Chola kingdom reclaims the eminence and glory of the bygone era. This is what I dream of, day and night!'. This is Chola king Parthiban’s dream. 

The resplendent glory of Cholas under his ancestors Karikala Chola & Nedumudi Kili was a thing of yore. Now Cholanadu was a palm-sized vassal state that had to pay tributes to the mighty Pallavas of Kanchi. So when Parthiban refuses to pay tributes to the Pallava king Narasimha Chakravarthi, a battle ensues. He and his army fight valiantly and die on the battlefield. Parthiban’s fervent desire that his son, Vikraman become an independent ruler and reestablish the Chola suzerainty across oceans becomes the sole life-driving force for Vikraman.

Also, a sivanadiyar (a Saivite ascetic) who witnesses king Parthiban’s valour on the battlefield asks the dying king his last wish and promises to fulfill it. Who is this ascetic and how is he instrumental in helping Vikraman realise Parthiban’s dream? Parthiban’s Dream, a historical fiction with elements of romance and suspense, holds the answers. 

It’s pretty easy to guess who the sivanadiyar is after 1/3 rd book is read, yet the story with a multitude of minor twists has the reader completely engrossed. Love at first sight between Vikraman and the Pallava princess Kundavai, the loyalty and valour of Cholanadu subjects - Valli and Ponna, horrific human sacrifice that kabalikas (cannibals) practiced, the highly wicked antagonist Marappa Bhupathi help sustain interest. 

Descriptions of the verdant landscape on the banks of river Kaveri in Cholanadu and the sculptures at Mamallapuram, little nuggets of information on how Mamallapuram received its name, the Bhakti movement saints, how the Pallavas razed down Vatapi, the capital of the Chalukyas after defeating Pulikesi enrich the reading experience.

Hope, despair, love, sacrifice, valor, trials and tribulations, and the triumph of truth and virtue in the end make the read a complete package.  

When the author through his characters Parthiban and Vikraman asserts that one must be subservient to none, bravery and honour alone should matter, we understand his vision and zeal for Indian independence. The author, also a freedom fighter, wrote this book (Parthiban Kanavu in Tamil) in 1941 as a weekly serial in the magazine he founded, Kalki. That he wrote its prequel - Sivakamiyin Sabatham actually after Parthiban Kanavu allows us readers the freedom to enjoy it standalone. 

The translator, Nandini Vijayaraghavan, in her acknowledgements writes - “History enthusiasts owe a debt of gratitude to the (late) Kalki R Krishnamurthy. Indians who were exposed to a Delhi centric interpretation of history through school texts became aware of Cholas, Pallava , and to a limited extent , of Sinhala and Pandya histories thanks to Kalki’s meticulous research and engaging narration.” And thanks to the process of translation, this classic of Tamil literature is available to readers from across the world. 

In lucid prose and glitch free translation, with beautiful illustrations by late S Gopalan, this classic is indeed an interesting page turner. 

For me, Kalki Krishnamurthy’s Parthiban’s Dream is a much more than a book, it's a little potli bag of memories - of how my father sung praises of the movie based on the book starring Gemini Ganesan and Vyjayanthimala that released in 1960, the illustrations in it reminding me of the magazine Kalki that my mother read in little snatches of free time, of how my parents-in-law always read the authors’ works with unwavering attention as if preparing for competitive examinations. Reading this book is an experience I will always cherish. 

The Boy from Shenkottai

On June 17, 1911, at a nondescript station Maniyachi (in Tuticorin district), Robert Ashe, the acting collector and magistrate of Tirunelveli district during British Raj was shot dead by a 25 yr old Indian named Vanchinathan. A 15 min window between switching trains, one shot fired from point blank range by Vanchi and Robert Ashe died in his wife, Mary’s arms. Vanchi locked himself up in the station’s lavatory and shot himself in his mouth thereafter. Robert Ashe’s carefully timed assassination before the coronation of George V in England sent shock waves amongst British despots in India and abroad.

Stuart Blackburn’s The Boy from Shenkottai, a work of historical fiction, traces the life journey of Vanchi and Robert Ashe culminating in the above event & its immediate aftermath. Born in Shenkottai (Travancore district) in a Brahmin family, every trip away from home gets Vanchi firmly involved in the self rule movement - his college term in Trivandrum, listening to VOC Pillai speak in Tuticorin. Ashe earns the ire of Indians when he gets popular freedom fighter VOC Pillai arrested on sedition charges, quells riots post the arrest and crushes Pillai’s Swadeshi steam navigation company.

A well structured narrative with never a slack in pace and a map of the region at the start, the book is an engaging read. While most of us know the 1927 John Saunders’ killing by Bhagat Singh & Rajguru to avenge Lala Lajpat Rai’s death, Vanchi’s killing of Robert Ashe barely finds mention. The Boy from Shenkottai attempts to fill gaps in our knowledge of the Indian independence movement left by a threadbare school curriculum but has its flaws.

By giving a lot of headroom to Ashe’s wife Mary’s thoughts & conversations between them, the author sympathizes with Ashe painting Vanchi as a murderer, a young lad misled by VVS Aiyar. This clearly leaves a distaste. Also, VVS Aiyar’s equations with Subramania Bharathi and Vanchi feel distorted with the author’s personal bias. 

I have to admit that reading a line on VVS Aiyar training Vanchinathan in firearms in Pondicherry in The Thinnai by Ari Gautier made me keen on reading The Boy from Shenkottai. Pondicherry, under French rule, outside the ambit of British sedition laws, served as a safe haven for many self styled Indian revolutionaries and their activities. They printed and published works here to make people aware of their rights, to build fervor in them to end British rule, boycott British goods and demand self rule. This aspect is dealt with in good detail in the book.

Also, reading how VOC Pillai single handedly challenged the British monopoly on Colombo-Tuticorin sea route, floated his own Swadeshi steam navigation company, offered financial assistance and legal aid to protesting cotton mill workers in Tuticorin reminded me of the old Tamil movie Kappalottiya Thamizhan, one I saw at an age when I was more familiar with the actors than the characters they played, I really need to watch it again. 

A 2019 controversy on the anniversary of Robert Ashe’s murder mentioned at the book’s end demanded more reading. That this book pushed me to read and research further definitely made it wholesome and worthwhile. 

"No, Thatha. Our past is what makes us. We must defend it as we would our lives." - as written in the final chapter, what Vanchi tells his grandfather. 

Keeping the line above in mind, The Boy from Shenkottai deserves to be read despite its shortcomings for in its core lies a significant historical event and names of many unsung Indian heroes, details of which matter more than the fictional scaffolding that surrounds it.

The Thinnai

The word Thinnai (in Tamil) refers to a shared verandah, a raised platform that flanks the main entrance of a house. Open to the neighbourhood, the Thinnai is where menfolk held important meetings, the womenfolk caught up on the local gossip while separating the grain from the chaff, the children played fun games, the street hawkers/sellers displayed their wares to a curious audience, travel weary souls rested their legs for a while; in short - the Thinnai was a silent hoarder of stories and memories. 

When the narrator comes back to his childhood home in Kurusukuppam (a fishermen's ghetto beyond the boulevards of Pondicherry) after years, memories of yore arise from its thinnai. It is here on Bastille's Day years back, an old, weary Frenchman, a wanderer named Gilbert Thaata, rested and narrated the story of his ancestors, the rise and fall of his fortunes and of a blue diamond - the Stone of Sita to an audience in rapt attention that included the narrator. 

Ari Gautier’s The Thinnai, deftly translated from the French by Blake Smith, begins with a lively and  colorful description of Kurusukuppam and its residents who have interesting nicknames. Using humour that switches between sardonic and deadpan, the author exposes many societal problems - generic ones like casteism (even Creoles not spared), superstitions, illiteracy, abject poverty and more specific ones like an anomaly in identity - of self, home, language and faith, an inevitable fallout of the colonial regime. 

The vibrant description of Kurusukuppam and the myriad characters who inhabit it reminded me of another read - Chandrasekhar Kambar's Karimayi , translated from Kannada by Krishna Manavalli. Just as in The Thinnai, Kambar describes the village Shivapura in great detail in his book - the streets, the houses, its residents and how they earned their sobriquets, the drunken brawls between men, men ogling at women, a life heaped in caste rules and superstitions. Both the books also celebrate the art of oral storytelling. 

When Gilbert Thaata narrates his life story, he takes us to Guadeloupe . Born here, to a French father and Indian mother, he unveils the story of Indian indentured labourers who arrived at the Antilles from Pondicherry to toil in the French owned sugarcane plantations after slavery was abolished in the year 1848. The plight of these Indian indentured labourers is detailed out in  - The Cane Cutter's Song by Raphael Confiant , translated from the French by Vidya Vencatesan. 

The narraror's father - Paulin, a Tamil who serves the French army, retires after serving for a bare minimum number of years that entitles him to a pension and settles down in Kurusukuppam. His mention of trenches, ration and gunshots in years of army service fighting for the French state lets David Diop's At Night all Blood is Black pop up in my memory. 

The narrative in The Thinnai, a multitude of stories, that encompasses history of the French empire from 1595, centuries of French colonial legacy from the fall of Bastilles to 1962 Pondicherry secession to India, moves in a wild abandon demanding complete attention from the reader. 

That the Tamil and French influences meld in every walk of life in Pondicherry is evident to anyone who visits the White Town, and the casual utterance of the word - Rue Manakula Vinayagar Koil (the road with an important tourist site and temple) testifies it. It is this amalgam of influences reflected in food and culture that's showcased well in The Thinnai. How the socio-cultural & linguistic scape changes with the creation of Auroville in the year 1968 is also touched upon.  

How the author juxtaposes opposites in writing is brilliant - the way fisherwomen and butchers conduct their business, the varied lifestyle of the narrator’s father and uncle, of Gilbert Thaata's father and Uncle, ideals of communist & capitalist thinkers.

Though Gilbert Thaata’s story is the focal point, it begins only in the second half and this definitely teases the reader’s patience. I also have to admit that as a Tamil, I was poised for a better connect with the text, be it the cusswords or references to movies like - playing the ‘Sappani’, MGR-Nambiar climax fight in Adimai Penn. 

That said, that The Thinnai reminded me of few other reads and gave me more than a handful to read and research about, from the Frenchman Marshall Petain's surrender to Germans to VVS Aiyar and Vanchinathan's role in Indian independence movement, made it really special. 

“I think we forget things if we have no one to tell them to” - Ritesh Batra, director of The Lunchbox, and The Thinnai doesn’t let us forget many important things.

Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun

 

Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun by Sarah Ladipo Manyika caught my attention with its quirky title. The blurb reminded me of a book I read - Sheet Sahasik Hemontolok by Nabaneeta Dev Sen , translated from Bengali by Tutun Mukherjee.

Both the books are broadly similar, dealing with the loss of independence, a sense of loneliness and helplessness at one's deterioration of health with old age, everything inevitable. Both are studded with many characters and their perspectives. Both offer a bold take on feminine desire and sexuality, bordering on the erotica. While Nabaneeta Dev Sen's novella is Indian in context, set in the city of Calcutta, Sarah's work is set in the city of San Francisco, allows us to travel briefly to places across the world. 

The protagonist in Like a Mule* is a 75 years old Nigerian woman, a retired English professor - Dr Morayo Da Silva. Let her age not deceive you for she has the verve of a youngster, speeding down the streets of San Francisco in her fancy car. She is feisty, wise, ambitious, kind, headstrong and fiercely independent.

A fall causes her a hip injury, surgery and physical therapy thereafter lands her in a rehabilitation home for old folks. Here, Morayo has plenty of time to revisit her past and we readers are privy to the bittersweet memories and her most intimate secrets. 

Thanks to Morayo, there is love for books and food in the book. Her love for the cosmopolitan environs of the San Francisco city where she resides is as strong as the sense of nostalgia for her husband's hometown - Lagos and Jos, the city of her childhood in Nigeria. Violence between Christians and Muslims and Boko Haram's reign of terror back in her homeland leaves her in angst and so does the racist vitriol in the USA even though both routinely feature in the news.

Childless and divorced years back from her ambassador husband, Caesar, Morayo's loneliness gnaws at her at times even when her day is punctuated by a familiar few around her - a mailman, a florist and his sister, a younger woman who turns her primary caregiver during the therapy, all belonging to different nationalities and cultures.

It is at the end I figure out a possible explanation for the title. Morayo imagines after she comes back home from the therapy center that her friend gets her an ice-cream and she is licking the melted drops of honey lavender & salted caramel from her fingers. The honey lavender is probably symbolic of her passionate love, an undying longing for her lover Antonio whose caress she desires even when dancing on the edge of old age. And the salted caramel maybe reflects her failed marriage which also gave her something sweet - travelling across the world & meeting people from various cultural backgrounds.

 Like a mule, Morayo, is carrying the ice cream to the sun, slowly, letting it melt; letting memories of her past meld into her present for she is a person who cherishes her past as much as she is enthusiastic about her present & unfettered by an uncertain future.

The novella is polyphonic in nature with an array of characters and mélange of perspectives. While this diversity is enriching, the risk of 'too many cooks spoil the broth' feels too close. Luckily, the novella manages to swerve away from it and turns out to be a well layered, good read.

 

Mountain Tales by Saumya Roy

 

Book Review : Mountain Tales - Love and Loss in the Municipality of Castaway Belongings by Saumya Roy

Neither brick walls nor blue tarpaulin can render the destitute and detritus invisible.

Mountain Tales - Love and Loss in the Municipality of Castaway Belongings by Saumya Roy shows how all trails of excessive urban consumerism lead to the Deonar trash mountains in Mumbai. Rotten food, plastic bottles, medical waste, broken glass, twisted wires, construction debris, even piles of old notes after demonetization arrived at this township, spread over 326 acres. Here, the waste lingered without being composted or incinerated, letting trash peaks rise as high as 120ft. 

An area set aside to keep out the deadly plague during an outbreak in 1897, the Deonar mountains have only grown over decades, smoldering and spewing out benzene at times and raging relentlessly at other times, choking the city with toxic methane halo. 

The author, a journalist-activist, chronicles the lives of rag pickers who braving stray dogs and scavengers, inhaling fetid gaseous concoction, risking a silent burial under soft heaps of trash during monsoon & dodging monstrous bulldozers and forklifts made these trash hills their home. Their eyes, trained over years, quickly distinguished the glint of a metal from transparent glass & colored plastics. Sustained efforts from the municipality couldn't evict them from this world they knew, one where others' refuse met their wants. 

Farzana, daughter of ragpicker Hyder Ali Shaikh, is the principal character in this book with a sizable cast. Born at the foot of these trash hills, her life and fate almost always aligns with it. Together they grow and strange twists leave their future in lurch around the same time. 

The author throws light on red tapism that underlines most government projects. Plans to constrict Deonar, turn waste to compost & energy remain in a perennial limbo despite earnest resolution attempts in the city high court by Justice Oka committee. We nod in agreement when the renowned judge Oka remarks - "After becoming a judge I realised .. the real challenge before our legal system is not of docket [legal case file] explosion but of docket exclusion". 

That the garbage crisis is universal is substantiated well with examples from Delhi, New York, Addis Ababa and Campania, Italy.

"Can you ever repair a house while you are living in it?" is a question raised in the book, the author uses this to hint at how Deonar's problems are too many to fix, the waste just wouldn't stop coming and the crisis would never end.

A dexterously crafted nonfiction work that never once feels tedious, a fine debut and a very essential read.

Thank you so much Hachette India for providing me with a copy of this book. 

Softly Dies a Lake

Softly Dies a Lake by Akkineni Kutumbarao, translated from the Telugu by Vasanth Kannabiran is described as an ecological memoir in its introduction. The author writes - The novel is about my childhood. All the people in it are real. The village is real. Kolleru is real. 

The book begins with Srinivas Rao, a man in his 60s, standing on the banks of the Kolleru wondering how the once bountiful lake that swallowed villages mercilessly during floods stood diminished to a 'nothingness' now. He takes a trip down the memory lane, to the times when as a 7 yr old kid (fondly called Seenu by all) Kolleru and his village Pulaparru on its banks made his beautiful little world.

It was here he learnt to swim holding onto a buffalo’s tail, to endure pain while pulling out leeches clinging onto skin, that not all people are fair and just, that ‘united we stand and divided we fall’. Kolleru and his village were his teachers after his doting parents. 

Pulapparu, the home to farmers (Kammadoras caste) and fishermen (Vaddis), with zero caste violence, where the young and old discussed and decided upon matters of importance also boasts of practicing collective farming for the first time in all of India, an ingenious mechanism it devised to save paddy harvests from the wrath of Kolleru during floods. 

With a huge array of characters, who's who in families, the book is little slow paced to start with. But Seenu, the little boy, mostly dressed in loin cloth, free-spirited and joyful makes the read interesting with his naive questions and naughty shenanigans.

The book reminded me of Perumal Murugan's Amma for describing a way of life, bygone and simple, of Na D Souza's Dweepa for showing how nature overturns man's efforts to control it in a blink of the eye, of Anita Agnihotri's The Sickle for highlighting the plight of farmers. 

In a translation that offers great reading experience, Softly Dies a Lake is not just an elegy to Kolleru, but to many lakes that once cradled life but are dying a slow death now. 

The Race to Phar Lap's Saddle

Kids accompanying their parents on a busy work trip brace themselves for boredom and 12 yr old Tara and her 10 yr old brother Neil are no different. When they realize their workaholic parents will stay confined to a small room in the Melbourne museum for 2 full days, entertainment arranged in the IMAX seems to be the only available entertainment option, one they accept with silent resignation. They have their pet Sumo, a golden Labrador, for company.

But a thrilling adventure beckons them when a precious artefact from the museum goes missing. The artefact is the saddle of Phar Lap, a thoroughbred racehorse renowned for its victory studded career in the 1920s. The saddle is the object of their father's research & study, the very purpose of their trip to Melbourne.

Tara and Neil (along with Sumo who reminded me of Timothy from good, old Famous Five mysteries) take it upon themselves to find the missing saddle. Cracking cryptic clues/riddles sends them racing from one iconic tourist destination to another in the city. The search enriches them with titbits of local history, myths, language and culture. 

From a boat trip on the Yarra River, a bird's eye view of the dazzling city from atop the Melbourne Star, a free ride on the Central tram service to learning about eminent personalities like Ned Kelly and James Cook, their quest offers them more than they dreamt of when they arrived at Melbourne. 

Will Neil and Tara save the day or are they on a wild goose chase? 

To know what happens read Rishi Piparaiya's The Race to Phar Lap's Saddle, an adventure for kids aged 8-12 and a mini encyclopedia/travel guide of Melbourne, melded into one.

The book is not all text and has nice illustrations. A section in the end provides interesting information & fun facts about Australia. 

Maps - at the start of the book

Interesting facts - from a section at book's end

A quick, light read for grown ups too if you, like me, knew Melbourne only for the MCG, jumping kangaroos and cuddly koalas and if you aren't looking for a brain racking mystery with a nail biting finish. 

The Race to Phar Lap's Saddle by Rishi Piparaiya is a thrilling, fast-paced adventure and a wholesome read with travel facts and interesting information!

Please visit Cities of Adventure website to learn about other books in this series. Fictional adventure set in the cities of Los Angeles and Washington DC are already available. Upcoming releases/titles set in dazzling cities from across the world already has readers eager and waiting. 

Trees for the Absentees

“We are all visitors on this earth. We all arrive carrying our flame with us. There are those who use that flame to light up the darkness, and there are those who use it to set fire to trees and people."

In a land riddled with missiles and bullets, where checkpoints mushroom restricting people's free movement,  where living in constant strife and under complete occupation drains your life, how does one thrive? Will sheer acceptance of ones' fate work or does one create a parallel universe, one alongside the reality, an imagined space in one's head, a place of dreams that no one can lay siege to? Maybe yes ! 

Trees for the Absentees is a coming of age tale set in Palestine, of a teenage girl Philistia who lives with her mother Najma, two little sisters (Sawsan and Nahil) and a brother (Saeed). Her father has been in Ashkelon prison for the last five years and the family is hoping he will be set free someday soon. Philistia's grandmother, Zahia is a respected woman in their village for she is the one who bathes the new born babies in their village after she pulls them out from the darkness of the womb into this world. But Philistia who accompanies her grandmother only quizzes - When day by day they found themselves in a hostile, unknown world, a disappointing one. When they discovered that the transition from darkness to light was not what it was made out to be. Did they thank Grandma? Had she saved them when she brought them into life, or had she deceived them?  Grandma Zahia also washes the dead before they are cremated. It is Grandma who reveals the secrets of the dead and the living, of the naked bodies lying in front of them to Philistia, all of which she absorbs well with rapt attention. 

After her grandmother's demise, Philistia dons her role in their village, studies at the University in Nablus in West Bank and also works there part time in a hammam where she scrubs naked bodies of women with black pitt and Nabulsi soap. 

Philistia has few friends - some real and some imagined ones, she converses with them in real and in her dreams, flitting between the two spheres. Her friend Bayrakdar with whom she shares a lot in common is the one with whom she has the most insightful and important conversations, a tender affection as they share thoughts is a treat to the reader.  

My dad loved Palestine so much that he called me Philistia, after the first people who lived in this land.

“So, can a name claim back an occupied country?”

Also moving are the letters that Philistia writes to her father. It is painful when she says - "There are Palestinian prisons and Israeli prisons, but what’s the difference? The prisoners are all Palestinians.”

Written by Ahlam Bsharat and translated from the Arabic by Ruth Ahmedzai Kemp and Sue Copeland, published by Neem Tree Press, Trees for the Absentees may not be an account with historical facts but it is a humane one that deals with the impact war and forceful occupation has on young minds. 

Fantasy intertwines with reality in this novella that gives us a sense of the plight people in Palestine face ; to have this sense is the first step in understanding injustice meted out, for injustice anywhere, they say, is a threat to justice everywhere.

Padmavati the Harlot and Other Stories

For anyone interested in the Indian (translated or otherwise) literature scape, Kamala Das (Madhavi Kutty, her pen name/ Kamala Surayya after she converted to Islam) is no new name. Her unabashed take on women's lives, their desires and sexuality and her own life story published as My Story have always kindled ample interest in readers. 

Padmavati the Harlot and Other Stories by Kamala Das is a collection of 19 stories, most of them very short - about a page or two long, some about 4-5 pages long with the only exception of A Doll for the Child Prostitute, the longest one, being little over 30 pages long. 

Moongphali, the first story that portrays the survival instincts a man exhibits during the 1984 anti-Sikh riots is different from the rest in that it is the only story set against the backdrop of an important event in recent Indian political history. 

There are stories that depict little life episodes, written like random musings - That Woman, The Young Man with the Pitted Face, December, The Sign of the Lion. 

The Sea Lounge and Equity Shares are instances where women protagonists call the shots, have a firm sense of identity and clearly overpower the male counterparts in the stories. 

Padmavati the Harlot and A Little Kitten are where the women decide to whom they offer their bodies providing a bold take on feminine desire and sexuality. 

There clearly exists another subset of stories in this collection, those that revolve around human relationships - beautiful and moving. A bereaved father in The Coroner, a busy son who has forgotten his mother thoroughly though she, whose memory is steadily deteriorating by the day, remembers much more than her son in The Tattered Blanket are poignant tales. Darjeeling, Grandfather, Walls, Leukemia touch chords of humanity in the most delicate fashion in very short space. 

Same-sex relationship is explored well in Iqbal. Sanatan Choudhuri's Wife lingers on suspicion a man harbors for his wife. The former story is just as much crisp and impressive as the latter is confounding.

And here are the most potent stories from the collection in my opinion, my favorites too - The Princess of Avanti and A Doll for the Child Prostitute that lay bare the scum that fills up the society. These two stories churn our inners showing how a woman, irrespective of her age, is always an object of desire, a commodity and there is never an inch of safe space for her in this society. The tonality in these reminded me of Gracy's stories from the collection Baby Doll.

Some of Kamala Das's women are bold, some too naïve. The old ones are as frail as a child, withered away due to ageing and the children are mature, wise like a woman in her prime for they are exposed to the societal ills from a tender age. 

With astute observations and sharp narratives without mincing words even once, Kamala Das holds her readers in rapt attention showing them what our society looks like and does. The foreword by the author's daughter is a sweet. little ode to this fiery writer. 

A Doll for the Child Prostitute published in the year 1977 by India Paperbacks, New Delhi has a set of 11 stories, all of which are bundled up here in this collection published by Aleph Book Company. Look no further, Padmavati the Harlot and other Stories serves as a good and wholesome starting place to explore the authors' writings.

Quartet (Chaturanga) by Rabindranath Tagore

‘If there is God, then my intellect is his gift; That intellect tells me, there is no God; So, God tells me, there is no God'

A fierce statement that Jagmohan, an hard core atheist and a polar opposite of his brother Hari Mohan, makes in this book. Caught in the tussle between the believer and the non believer is Hari Mohan's own son Sachis who takes a liking to his uncle Jagmohan, breathes his principles and turns a staunch atheist until the outbreak of plague consumes Jagmohan's life.

‘That there is no obligation is my greatest obligation.’ Since we do not believe in anything, we must believe in ourselves all the more.’ - Jagmohan's motto to ensure greater good for a larger number of people challenging insurmountable societal norms causes immense misery to him and his likes.

Sachis loses direction after Jagmohan's death and like a homeless bird flitting from one tree to another, unsure and aimless, he seeks refuge under Swami Leelananda, surrendering himself unconditionally at his feet.

Sribilas, Sachis' loyal friend, is a witness to Sachis's dramatic transformation and out of love and loyalty for his friend also his meek follower. Then enters Damini, a young widow, who catalyzes the transformation of these men. But Tagore does not render Damini as a coveted object of desire, one causing friends to turn foes. Both Sribilas and Sachis definitely want Damini's attention but in different ways which is revealed by the line below - 

Perhaps Sachis did not realise that while he envied me for the easy informality of my relationship with Damini, I envied him for the mystery between his and Damini’s relationship. (Says Sribilas, the novella itself is constructed from Sribilas's diary entries)

Damini, like a smoldering volcano capable of erupting without warning, is unsure of the path she herself should adopt in life - be a believer, serve Swamiji and sing kirtans in praise of the Lord or be a non believer and adopt philanthropism working outside the bars of caste, creed and religion.  

The author minces no words when he takes a dig at the supremacy asserted by upper caste Hindus, the way they treat Muslims and chamars as untouchables. His fight for just treatment of women is evident from the lines below  - In Hindu shastra, the sacrifice of a female animal is prohibited, but in the case of humans, this was practiced with a lot of glee.

From one defying everything written in the tenets of religion to accepting everything without any question, Sachis oscillates between these two extremes unable to find a sense of purpose and Tagore in this work shows us that adherence to both pathways is actually of no avail.

Quartet (Chaturanga) is set in the 19th century Bengal, a novella in four parts with four central characters that delves deep into philosophical questions, the conflict between conforming and not conforming with one's religion and scriptures, the conflict between natural longings of a man and renunciation of material desires. 

The renowned poet, playwright, novelist, essayist, painter, the supreme symbol of Indian renaissance that Rabindranath Tagore is, this little work in about 100 pages shows him largely as a 'reformer'. 

Chaturanga (Quartet) was first published in a book-form in 1916. Its first English translation was published in The Modern Review in four consecutive issues (Feb-May, 1922). Unlike other works of Tagore, this was never presented on stage or dramatized; only a radio play was aired on All India Radio a couple of times.

The translator, Nirmal Kanti Bhattacharjee, expresses he had difficulties maintaining the non-sentimental and tongue in cheek style of writing the author adopted in here but the above said qualities are definitely palpable in the translation which makes his translation effort praiseworthy. 

A Musical Offering

Eyelids heavy with sleep are lulled to close by fatigue at the day's end but anxiety and fear wriggle recklessly inside the head forcing them to move apart. Wide awake and paying attention, I begin reading A Musical Offering by Luis Sagasti, translated from Spanish by Fionn Petch.

Right at the start, I encounter an insomniac Count Keyserling who demands he be put to sleep by musical compositions. Johann Sebastian Bach's variations come to the rescue. His thirty variations are performed every night by the famous German harpsichordist - Johann Gottlieb Goldberg. 

A Musical Offering in about 110 pages consists of seven chapters - like essays or fragmented stories meticulously interwoven by music. Maybe the number 7 signifies the musical notes 'do re mi fa so la ti' or 'sa re ga ma pa da ni'. This mini extravaganza by Luis Sagasti shows how music heals - during wars, when death is imminent like in concentration camps. 

Facts and fiction freely intertwine in accounts here as the author details whale songs that can be heard over a distance of 5000 km, signals emitted by stars, songs sent into space from the Earth in 1977 along with the Voyager probe, a giant organ that an entire village at the foot of the Alps built together (sometime in 1737) that created an avalanche 'literally' when played burying the very village that created it. 

The magical prowess of music is rendered beautifully through instances like 1) Goldberg variations played for the Count every night equated to Scheherazade's 'a story a night formula' from the Arabian nights 2) a famous scene from the movie Shawshank Redemption when Andy plays music from the jail administration office - a sweet and short of taste of freedom he offers his jail mates that earns him two weeks in the hole 3) a song in exchange for a piece of bread kind of deal between two inmates at Auschwitz camp. 

Historical events like the Spanish Civil War and the Siege of Leningrad knotted with musical endeavors from the time give the reader a handful to research. 

"Music promises the pleasure of the future: anticipating a melody that flutters a few steps ahead is the dessert we savour even as we raise another steaming forkful to our lips."

"Every mother carries a Noah’s Ark in her womb (after all, there are forty weeks of gestation and forty days of flood). We’ve all been the animals in the Ark before descending to the earth."

With beautiful lines like above and stunning musical revelations (many that aren't easy to comprehend) A Musical Offering works quite like the melody of a Tanpura, not explicit to its listener at the start but unravels slowly; the instrument's constant hum actually lends a framework on which everything in the concert rests upon. 

And as I finish reading A Musical Offering, there is a sense of calm, like the Russian Count I too slip into a good night sleep - Spokoynoy Nochi !

What We Carry - Maya Shanbhag Lang

Every bit beautiful and very relatable - that is What We Carry by Maya Shanbhag Lang for you in short, a memoir that acknowledges “life is always more complicated than easy answers permit”.

The author here details her personal journey into motherhood while unraveling many secrets her mother (a successful psychiatrist in the USA, an Indian immigrant) safeguarded on the same subject for years. She is let into this ‘closet of stories’ when her mother loses her independence & stature while slipping gradually into a void created by severe Alzheimer’s in her old age. 

From turning to her mother for advice at the drop of the hat, marking her as the first and primary recipient of all information (both minor and significant) to becoming her primary caregiver for one whole year and preserver of her past, What we Carry poignantly chronicles the journey of the mother daughter duo over time. The ripples that the three women connected by blood from different generations feel with the author serving as a bridge between the past (her mother) and the future (her kindergartener daughter Zoe) is rendered beautifully. She writes, “May be at our most maternal, we aren't mothers at all. We are daughters reaching back in time for the mothers we wish we’d had and then finding ourselves”.

The book speaks to women very intimately for every woman always has some unfinished business with her mother, an urge to know how her mother did all that she managed to at different points in her lifetime. The elixir of a woman's strength lies in the simple thought - if my mom could, I too can. 

The connect with the book is deeper if the reader is a mother too. Not bragging about motherhood, but saying that based on a plain truth that every mother receives few fast track lessons during her postpartum period, a daunting one, that stays etched in her memory. She is compelled to learn to let go, to say no, to steer away from an ‘all appeasement policy’ as her tiny tot bombards her time and senses, and these lessons eventually culminate in her accepting that whatever she does, she will be scrutinized, graded and judged. 

Men too will appreciate the book for the author stays afloat in turbulent waters thanks to her very supportive husband, her understanding and pragmatic elder brother, her highly motivating gym trainer whose lines we will want to set in wooden plaques to adorn our walls with. 

Be it in depicting the power of stories, the necessity to acknowledge life truths without morphing it, the decline and disappearance into an oblivion with the onset of old age, the need to solidify your sense of self, the book scores a perfect ten in handling all these topics.

There are heartwarming moments when the author talks of siblings being polar opposites, when she shares her preschooler daughter's definition of home - "Home is where you go when everything is closed. Like when Ben and Jerry's is closed and the park is closed and the library is closed, you go home. Home is the place that's always open."

You are left moist eyed when you read the author's mother, an expert in geriatrics and psychiatry, (who lived in thrift, planned her future meticulously, bore the brunt of a toxic marriage while helping countless patients out of their mental health problems) spirals helplessly down the vortex of dementia -forgetting to eat, cook and imagining her own children causing her harm.

I loved What We Carry singularly for it showed motherhood as hugely transformative and not menacingly sacrificial. Every woman feels pangs of guilt for choosing herself over her child (even if momentarily) and What We Carry through the life experiences of the author and her mother reveals that choosing oneself doesn’t mean deserting the child entirely. You just need to ‘hang in there’ and you will find a middle ground where you and your child both can flourish with confidence. 

In about 260 pages, divided into three sections, with short chapters, this book is extremely readable. Perhaps, the final section cut short by a few pages would have preserved the overall crispness but that is just a minor grouse in this book that very beautifully asserts “The telling of stories isn’t a pastime. It isn't a way to distract us from life. It is life”. 

Short Stories by Gracy

 

"My dearest readers, your question is why my stories never traverse the luminous paths of life. It is not that you are not aware that all the paths of this world are being taken over by darkness. Since those responsible are human beings, what is the point of being disappointed that I am not a storyteller who spreads light?"

36 stories in about 210 pages (their length mostly varying from one to about 5-7 pages the last entry being the longest one, a novelette) - each one delivers a punch in the gut, pierces the heart with ice daggers, leaves us with unblinking eyes and dropped jaws.

Baby Doll, It is Winter now on Earth, The End of a Naive Romance are few that hold you by the scruff of your neck and tell "Don't cringe, this happens in our society".

Gracy gives ghosts as much right as the living on the Earth for in her stories spectral visions and apparitions regularly give us creeps. Illusory Visions, Orotha and the Ghosts, Theechamundi, Coming Home, Kallu are few such instances.  

Failed marriages, drunkard husbands, women who entice, harass and suffer, dysfunctional families and crushed childhood make up the scape of this collection.

The author's candour in dealing with infidelity, female sexuality, man-woman relationships or when taking a dig at religion/caste will stun you. Her use of Devi Mahatmyam, references to Kunti (in A Raindrop in Summer) and Draupadi (in Panchali) in her stories show use of her clever imagination. Her use of metaphor in storytelling is classy; rabbits and lizards as protagonists, a train as a witness to few worldly mishaps on the route it travels, a man (in story Doomsday) telling how numbers taunt him endlessly are some fine examples.

These stories where violence and macabre do a cool jig, are loaded with the scents, sights and local folklore of Kerala. Though largely grim, there is little humour too that shifts from dry (in Denouement) to cynical (in Ball, This is Joseph's story, Anna's too). Some stories end brusquely in violence to the extent of confounding us.

With translation and editing taken care of by EV Fathima and Mini Krishnan, readers are guaranteed a wonderful reading experience. This Harper Perennial edition bundles up a translator’s note and an interview of the author by the translator in its insights section which provides a comprehensive understanding of the author’s writing style and personal life episodes that shaped it.

The collection is like a potent medicine that works better when consumed in measured doses with intervals in between. It definitely helps clear our clouded vision of the society, one that is marred by toxic patriarchy and heavy misogyny. And for such a work, the title chosen - a popular Bollywood number should hopefully not downplay the importance.

Baby Doll : Short Stories by Gracy makes an instance where the more we think of the stories , the more we get knotted in our own words/thoughts and to disentangle ourselves, it definitely takes time.