More Complications than Color in this Garden

Book Review

"I once read some where that the single minded pursuit of one course over a lifetime can only be justified if one engages in two enterprises - building a garden, or raising a child". Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar's My Father's Garden ends with the lines above, leaving a feeling of warmth and love for nature, a sense of sadness for the unfulfilled dreams and unspoken thoughts of its characters; something beyond comprehension - if the book worked in parts or as a whole.

It is a coming of age tale of a young Santhal man, studying in Jamshedpur medical college described in first person narrative, divided into three parts - short novellas knitted together to make up a memoir. A huge positive - lucid description of Jharkhand's  towns and villages, the festivals, food and customs, life of  Santhals, the demand of Adivasis for a separate homeland and the ensuing political movement enriches the reading experience only after half of the book is over.

The first part 'Lover' details the narrator discovering his sexuality, the freedom to ponder about love at college away from home and his affairs with three men, one serious enough to thoroughly devastate him. The details are extremely graphic and often leave a sense of revulsion.

The narrator is posted at Sadar hospital, Pakur, Jharkhand, a highly minimal government hospital in the second part 'Friend' where he allows a daily routine to swallow his life in entirety. He befriends a certain Bada Babu only to realise that there is more to this cherubic, good-willed man. Serious life-like things: government bureaucrats, red tapism, votebank politics and constant exploitation the poor face allow the narrator to mature and grow.

The last part 'Father' details out the narrator's family - his grandfather, his father, their undying passion to achieve tough goals for a better life. A 'big slice of life' in rural Jharkhand is painted in beautiful colors. The narrator's inner turmoil, his failure to become a perfect son his father wishes for indicate how the weight of expectations squeezes and pushes one in ways possible to fit into a void in the family's jigsaw puzzle.

The book is an amalgam of many emotions and as is with human emotions, they are never uncomplicated, so is the read that leaves a sense of void even when pages turn no more.