Past Perfect: A Passage To India

From Darkness to Light

Author: E M Forster
Published In: 1924



Many critics believe that without A Passage To India, E M Forster wouldn't have perhaps been the author of eminence he is today. This novel, based in India during the British rule, is easily one of the most definitive works that documents the period and offers more than a glympse into the prevailing colonial attitudes.
Not that Howards End and A Room With A View do not contain merits but A Passage To India - by having a dark. impenetrable core (the caves) - right in the middle of the book --- breaks away from Forster's otherwise Edwardian conventionality and takes on modernist hues. It's a mature breakaway for the author and what we have here is a mytho poetic novel that unravels a wealth of meaning.

My first interest in E M Forster's works came while watching A Room With A View,  Ismail Merchant's  brilliant literary adaptation of Forster's novel. Later when I read the book, I found it quite disengaging. I felt the film was far more entertaining.  Being always interested in Raj literature, I took up The Passage To India, considered by most as the definitive book on British India . I savoured the book - loving how Forster creates the mood and setting. A certain mysticism pervades the novel, as each character battles with their two worlds - internal and external. The incident of the Caves is the culmination point where things come to a head.

When Adela Quested and her would-be-mother-in-law Mrs Moore arrive to India, they express their wish to see 'the real India'. Compared to the snobbery around - among the British class about the natives (Indians) - Adela and Mrs Moore seem much more open and courteous towards their Indian acquaintances. Dr Aziz, one of the major characters in the novel appears in many ways an embodiment of Forster's impression of India --- a kind of 'muddle' yet affectionate and emotional. His judgments are not always based on facts, as he tends to follow his heart too much. He overreacts and his feelings swing in extremes - from childlike joy to undiluted anger and hate.

The other character, Mr Feilding is portrayed as the rationalist - a friend to both Aziz and the two women. All four of them are happy with each others acquaintance and it's one of these days that Aziz proposes a trip to the Marabar caves. When they agree, Aziz makes a lot of preparations for the journey. But things turn disastrous. When Mrs Moore comes out of the Cave, she feels dizzy and disturbed. But Adela's reaction is extreme. She comes out shouting and later accuses Dr Aziz of sexually molesting her. The Britishers stand by Adela, using the opportunity to tighten the screw on the natives.

However, as days progress, Adela isn't sure anymore whether she was really molested or whether she just imagined it. Mrs Moore is convinced that it was all in Adela’s mind. Dr Aziz is let off by the court to loud cheers by fellow Indians. The British community feels humiliated and targets Adela for 'changing her mind'
The third act, mostly constitutes the central characters drifting away and then crossing each other's paths after many years. This part does not flow seamlessly with the rest of the story but if seen like an epilogue, it works in portraying how the British-Indian equation was writ with misunderstanding, mistrust and miscommunication.

So, what exactly happened in the caves? Forster never tells you and even when he was asked about it in interviews, he only said, "I don't know!"
But the author's rich setting and characters do reveal a lot, in terms of what could have possibly happened. One of the central clues is Mrs Moore's character, who is going through a period of disenchantment with humanity itself. She has intuitive powers and feels a certain spiritual decay that disturbs her. She possibly expected to find peace in the caves but instead is horrified at the feeling of 'nothingness' it suggests. Adela, on the other hand, only has a certain superficial rationality to her and her sexual feelings are also repressed (in Jungian terms, her animus is more pronounced), which is why the caves probably brought her at the end of her conscious state -ie towards the unconscious (mind you, the cave can also be viewed as a primal womb - a darkness before existence as much as nothingness after existence) and that makes her unstable.
In general, two of these characters, in particular move in an out of their consciousness and unconsciousness.
Adela's fear could have also emerged out her distrust for Aziz and all Indians, a feeling which may not seem obvious on the surface.
So essentially, Forster starts off by creating a rich period drama about British India and the relationships that crumble under the weight of their cultural phobia.

For this and more reasons, A Passage To India is an illuminating read and opens up a treasure of meanings.

The Summer Of Cool

Colony capers

Author: Suchitra Krishnamoorthy
Pages: 205
Publishers: Puffin
Published in : 2009
Genre: Teen fiction

After proving herself as a decent actress (Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa, My Wife's Murder) a pop singer, and even a painter, Suchitra Krishnamoorthi gives us a glimpse of her talent as a writer with her just released debut book, The Summer Of Cool. And she does well!

It's a breezy 200 odd pager about teenagers and their eventful summer in the upper middle class neighbourhood of Swapnalok Society. The book wastes no time in introducing the denizins of this nestled housing complex, each character and home delineated with their own peculiar traits and quirks. So there are the exiting Malhotras, also teased by the kids as 'Underwear aunty and uncle' because they have a habit of hanging their undergarments in full view in their balcony. Then there's the hyper Sita Maami - whose cola water recipe is a hit at all the colony get-togethers. The excitement grows a little more with the entry of a charming, bachlor in their midst Varun Vadola.

The place has its share of one-upmanship, jibes and politics and their earnest Secretary, Mrs Subramanium always seems to have her hands full with demands of getting leaking bathroom repaired, not allowing dogs in the lift...and so on.

Suchitra is very successful in creating this setting - and all those who have lived in co-operative societies at any point of time will appreciate the author's skill at evoking many a familiar image. Most importantly, Suchitra knows how to keep the proceedings interesting, introducing new characters and plot points.

Swapnalok Society has many families who would make for an entertaining story by themselves but the author chooses the troubled Varma family, with its two lovely daughters - Chitangana, the doe-eyed, and feisty eight-year-old and her more compliant elder sis, Smita. Both are extremely smart and imaginative kids, except that their lives haven't been the same ever since their father, Siddharth left them. Their mother has been a wreck, shutting herself from the world and venting her anger at her daughters. Chitrangana finds herself constantly at the firing end, given her curiosity about her dad’s disappearance from their life. Her agile, innocent mind is baffled at how her mom “treats their father as a ghost who doesn’t exist”

Things become more interesting with the entry of their Amamma (mother’s mom), with a morbid fear of strangers. The slinging matches get worse, until Chitrangana decides to find her father and set their crumbling house in order. Feeling suppressed at home, she starts to talk to the cloth doll, named Seema that her sister gifted her on her birthday. And in Chitrangana’s inventive head, she hears the doll replying to all her queries. Heeding her doll’s advice (which is really her heart dictating), she goes on a brief search for her father. The episode is painful but it proves necessary for many of the central characters and their lives.

Suchitra does a nice desi Enid Blyton here, sketching the lives of unban Indian kids quite accurately (this could be largely aided by the fact that she is mother to a teenage daughter in real life)

However, for a setting that is so nuanced and characters so well-developed, the central plot and resolution are quite basic and even simplistic. From a very rooted and realistic setting, Suchitra broadens the scope of her story, with Chitrangana going in search of her father. This is where the author loses some of the grip over the story and is forced to introduce elements like coincidences and so on.

There is fair share of suspense that the author manages to create, but the ending is probably not befitting a story that starts off so well.

All the same, the book won't insult your intellegence either. Don't look for a very complex plot, and The Summer Of Cool works out to be a crisp, page-turner that keeps you quite hooked.

Interview The Write Move

Suchitra Krishnamoorthy gives us an insight into her new book, The Summer Of Cool, telling us, among other things, why she keeps her writing so racy. Also, she’s all set to turn her latest book into a series.

1) It looks like the theme for the book was drawn from your own childhood experiences...

Yup. I grew up in a very interactive multicultural co-operative housing society in Mumbai and the ambience of the Swapnalok Society Series is drawn from there. Even many of the characters...

2. Was The Summer of Cool always supposed to be your first book or were you looking at some other subjects too?

I toyed with a couple of ideas and then went with this one. It had been playing in my head for a while and I needed to do something about it. Once I had the first draft I sent it to a friend of a friend, who happened to be Commissioning editor at Penguin. She loved it and that’s how the whole thing fell into place.

3. You have a teenage daughter, Kaveri. Are some of the episodes in the book drawn from what you see of her and her peers?
My daughter has just turned eight. She is way too young but a lot of the language I have used is from observing her and her friends and also my nieces.

4. Did you use anyone as your sounding-board while writing the book?
Yes, Mahesh Dattani. He is a kind of creative mentor to me and gave me able guidance.

5. One of your central characters, that of Chitrangana and Smita's mother, is an extremely troubled yet poignant character. Was there any particular reason for portraying her as a wreck?

Nobody is bad. There are circumstances that cause people to behave in a particular way. It’s what I wanted to explore.

6. I read somewhere that you finished writing the book in six weeks flat?

The first draft was written in six weeks yes. I had the basic plot ready and the rest emerged as I wrote. Even the end was something that emerged as I was writing.

7. Was there any point in the book where you couldn't decide which way your story should move or how a particular character needs to be approached. For example, the character of Sandy Khan is left quite ambiguous? Was that deliberate?

Sandy Khan is ambiguous because he is seen in this story from the point of view of Chitrangana. He is a hazy figure in her life and she lives in his shadow in spite of his absence. Wait till you read the next book in the series-things will become clearer.

8. You've kept the book extremely racy, introducing fresh characters and situations all the while. Is that how you wanted your book to be and are you conscious of not rambling when you are writing?
I am a very restless person, and it rare for something to hold my attention unless its riveting and I am emotionally hooked. My writing therefore emerges out of a need to keep myself engaged as well.

9.What are the books you enjoy reading and is there any book that has impressed you lately?
I read a lot. Am currently reading The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins.

10. What more can we expect from you as a writer in the time to come?
The Summer Of Cool will be a series. I guess you can expect a substantial body of work from me as a writer. But don’t ask me what I’ll write about next because I really don’t know. I will wait for inspiration to strike and Ganesha to guide my pen.

-Sandhya Iyer

A House for Mr Biswas

Heartbreak House

Author: V S Naipaul
Pages: 563
Year of Publishing: 1961

Having read V S Naipaul’s A Million Mutinies Now (a epic travelogue for its sheer scope and detailing) and An Area of Darkness (a scathing description of post-Independence India), one knows that whether one chooses to agree or not with his provocative, highly opinionated views, one knows Naipaul is anything but  dull, and that keeps you hooked.

For a long time now one has been hearing about A House for Mr Biswas being undoubtedly his best work. Also, since I had only read his non-fictional works, there was a certain curiosity to read his fiction work.  Yet, A House For Mr Biswas is not wholly fiction and borrows a lot from Naipaul’s own life.

The central character of Mr Biswas is based on the life of Naipaul's father, and the novel tracks his life from birth to death. Right since he is born he is considered a bad omen for the family. By a quirk of fate the prediction does come true with Biswas’ father getting drowned while trying to save him. The family goes through very trying times, even as his mother Bipti appears totally detached and keeps whining all the time. Biswas is often sent to his wealthy aunt’s place, where he does odd jobs for the family. Biswas loves the ambiance there and dreams of being able to afford the same lifestyle someday.  His mother tries to keep finding schemes to get him 'settled' – one as an apprentice to a mean-minded Pundit (this whole episode is hilarious as much as it is ironic) – ends up frustrating Mr Biswas even further.
That's when Biswas' life takes another dramatic turn. A harmless bit of flirting with his employer's daughter plunges him straight into marriage. Biswas is not prepared, but his in-laws, the affectionate yet firm Mrs Tulsi and her commanding son-in-law, insist on the match. This, even though Biswas is penniless.

He moves in with the Tulsis – a queer, noisy extended family where the Tulsi daughters are welcomed to stay with their husbands and children. Since most of the son-in-laws are not very well-to-do, they are employed either in one of the family’s shops or fields.

Mr Biswas is enraged seeing that he has to follow the rules set by his wife’s family. He abhors the tasteless food they serve. He helplessly cribs that it ruins his stomach, and in general leaves no opportunity to deride them or pick up fights with the elders. The family is more often than not patient with him, trying to buy peace by giving him a fresh opportunity. Many a times, Mr Biswas gets so outraged by the family that he moves out, only to face hardships outside and return back defeated. He finds scant support from his wife who is practical about their financial condition and stays put at her mothers’ place with her kids.

The only time Mr Biswas’ life looks up is when he lands a job as a journo at the Sentinel. Tired of the Tulsis, he attempts to build a house of his own at least on two occasions. But always short of cash and saddled with a million troubles always, he ends up making a mish-mash of it each time and lands right back with the Tulsis.

However, Mr Biswas does manage a house of his own towards the end and nothing gives him more happiness than to live in a place where he doesn’t have to be indebted to the Tulsis. Strangely, Biswas finds more peace and cheer in the last few years of his life (with his son Anand and Savi) than he ever gets in his lifetime.

The novel is a marvel in character creation and Naipaul’s ability to penetrate through human psyche and proclivity with such searing candor makes A House For Mr Biswas an immensely rich work. The description of the Tusli family with its varied and colourful characters is especially ingenious.

Also, the novel can be read on a number of levels. Even without any special emphasis on its historical context, it still holds true as a novel about frustration and tragic vulnerability that lies at the core of all human existence.

The subtext is never overt, but it’s possible to read the Tulsi House as a symbol of colonialism. Trinidad was under British rule and Naipaul could possibly be driving home the point about how restrictive and controlled such living could be. Mr Biswas’ constant failure with every new endeavour hints towards the ill-preparedness of the Trinidadian populace when left on their own. Without adequate training or experience, Biswas is always clueless.

Yet, reading A House For Mr Biswas can be exhausting, for the tedium it brings at several points. The novel is too long, too repetitive. The same things keep happening to Mr Biswas all through the novel. In addition to that, the overly descriptive style of the book tends to tire you out.
But then again, there's another way of looking at the novel. The book moves at snail's pace , but so does Mr Biswas' own life that refuses to take off. Somewhere in the tedium felt by the reader lies Mr Biswas' own frustration at seeing his life languishing.
Naipaul's subject matter is grim but the author's trademark dark humour and ironic wit ensures that A House for Mr Biswas remains as entertaining, as it is enriching.

-Sandhya Iyer

Gouri Dange's 3 Zakia Mansion

Home truths


Gouri Dange’s books draw as much from her skills as a talented writer, as much from her profession as a family counselor

Gouri Dange’s views as a city-based counselor and a columnist writing on a variety of social and other issues have always been a much-valued one. Hence, one welcomed her foray into fiction writing with her debut novel, 3 Zakia Mansion earlier this year with her close friends Shabana Azmi and Tanvi Azmi releasing the book in Mumbai and Pune respectively.

By her own admission, 3 Zakia Mansion evoked drastic yet interesting responses.
The book recounts the journey of a young Muslim woman, Shaheen, leading a somewhat repressed life with her parents and hoping for a better future by way of marriage. But this is nothing short of a disaster, as Shaheen’s life takes a turn for the worse with a cowardly husband and an offensively dominating mother-in-law. There’s no real respite for Shaheen as her young daughter too briefly turns against her. But towards the end, life looks up, as Shaheen not only discovers new relationships, but herself too.

The middle portion of the book reads like a soap opera but Gouri says none of it is exaggerated. “There are people who are irredeemably horrible, so I presented them as black. I know people saw that portion as a saas-bahu drama but believe me, I was drawing from people I have met in real life. Almost 70 per cent of these are vexed relationships and the mother-in-law here is a symbol of someone who cannot see beyond her son.
But didn’t she fear reinforcing the ‘saas’ stereotype? “Not really, because I counter- balance it with Mrs Kher – Shaheen’s second encounter with a potential mother-in-law – who is initially appalled at the 12 year old age gap between her son, Manav and Shaheen but quickly comes around. Many people look at their families and wonder why they are so abnormal, but that's how most families are. Abnormal is the new normal,” she says.

With 3 Zakia Mansion and her next book, ABC of Parenting, Gouri draws aspects from her experience as a counselor. “My daughter (her neice whom she adopted) is 23 year old and married – so there weren’t many elements I could take from there. Of course there is a certain home-grown wisdom that you gather while parenting but most of it of course came from meeting real people and problems,” she says.

And fascinatingly, Gouri has infused several of her ideas in her first fictional work. “There were a couple of things that I absolutely wanted to include in the novel – one was the childhood element. As a child and a teenager, Shaheen is in shallow waters but with marriage, she’s thrown into the deep end. Overnight, her life takes a 180 degree turn. That was a construct I wanted in 3 Zakia Mansion. Anybody who gets into a new situation – whether marriage or migration-- only to run away from his/her present life is taking a huge risk. A lot of young women go into marriage as an escape from their reality and that’s nothing but jumping from the fire pan into the fire. Which is why I have always been an advocate of pre-martial counseling, only to be met with resistant parents who think ‘why let the couple think so much?’ That doesn't mean I was punishing my character (Shaheen) for using marriage as an escape route. In fact, I was literally throwing nice people in her way towards the end because she is defiant in her own way,” she says.

The other thing Gouri was sure she would be doing in her novel is of having Shaheen date a man much younger than her. “I see so many great relationships where there is a definite age difference. Two unlikely people can be so right for one another sometimes. In the West of course, this is a prevalent phenomena but I think we too in India must ‘loosen’ up to aspect like these. Why reject a good relationship over something like age?”

Gouri says she’s undecided about her next book but in all likelihood, it will either be a book of short stories or another fictional work.

Review: Breathless In Bombay

Author: Murzban F Shroff
Pages: 306
Publishers: Picador India
Price: 295
Genre: Short stories (fiction)

Of magic and mayhem

Of late, one is getting more and more sensitized about how Mumbai – by far India’s most multicultural and economically vibrant cities—is slowly slipping into the abyss of bad governance, terror scare, crammed spaces, and heavy concretization…all of it which is steadily eating into the essence of this dream city. People living here rue the fact that many of the city’s authentic places are being sold off to builders who are constructing residential skyscrapers and shopping centers for the ever-bourgeoning class of the brand-flashing, mall hoppers.

Nishikanth Kamat made a poignant portrayal of it in his wonderful, Mumbai Meri Jaan and here again, writer Murzban draws to attention this utter hopelessness, a tragically increasing class-divide that is threatening to deconstruct everything that the city stands for – peaceful co-existence and the spirit of brotherhood. All of Murzban’s 14 stories draw to attention various aspects of the city. Dhobi Ghat and The House Of Mine refer to the problem of displacement where in old structures ---emblems of the city's sparkling authenticity --- are being sold off. There is a strain of regret and sadness in Murzban's narration, as he sees his city being stripped off its uniqueness and warmth and replaced by cold affluence and almost sickening homogeneity.

Class divide seems to be one of Murzban's overarching concern, as he highlights them in his chapters, Breathless in Bombay, The Great Divide, Busy Sunday, The Queen Guards Her Own. This disparity of income -wherein one sizeable class indulges in all kinds of obscene accesses while another grovels in squalor (the author takes the readers through some extremely poverty-ridden, crime-infested, morally depraved streets and lives). Busy Sunday is especially interesting because it brings to light the repercussions of this unsavory class divide and an all round atmosphere of distrust and fraudulence it promotes.

Not all stories deal with problems that are necessarily about Mumbai. For example, there's a highly charged story, Traffic about a live-in couple and the bitterness that seeps in after the scent of idealistic togetherness. Now, this is a story that could have happened anywhere but it nevertheless finds a resonance with the city's fast-paced life, where survival and self-advancement is the only mantra and human emotions are daily crushed under the weight of clinical practicality and opportunism.

The biggest reason to recommend this book is because it draws you in within no time. Murzban - with his ability for detailing -- manages to create a setting that grips you from the word go. It’s obvious the writer feels a great amount of sadness and angst at the city’s dismal state on various fronts but Murzban tackles it with a great compassion and understanding of human frailties. Also, he makes sure to create extremely well fleshed out characters, studying their motives with care and empathy.
Yes, not all stories end well. There could be a feeling that some of them have ended abruptly after starting off so well. But Murzban succeeds in acquainting readers with the colours, flavours and temperament of the city.
A well-mixed Bombay Bhel and some food for thought as well!
-Sandhya Iyer

Salaam Memsaab

Author: Marjorie McCallum
Pages: 125
Genre: Autobiographical

English essence

Having greatly loved E M Forster’s A Passage To India, I was a bit curious to read about the Raj and the social scape that had emerged around that time. This was before the independence struggle had begun and a certain smugness had crept in the attitude of the British who believed the Indian soil was theirs –as long as they wished. The English community in India was growing, with families coming down to join the commanding officers. And between them, they constituted an affluent world far removed from the people and land they ruled--- almost a miniature England.

That’s the universe Marjorie McCallum, an English officer’s wife, inhabits in her breezy 100 odd page book where she offers readers a close look at their general lifestyle. She rarely goes beyond descriptions of her domestic life and like others of her club, is unquestionably happy to accept the political status quo.

She talks of how while their officer-husbands were at work, the ‘memsahibs’(as they were called) ran their sprawling houses with a large entourage of servants. Once it would be summer, the officers would start hunting for cozy yet affordable hotels in the hills for their wives. It would mostly be Masoori for her where she would stay for five-six months---hanging around with co-officers' wives at the markets or go for pleasure walks.

Unlike what one would imagine, the salaries paid to British officers (especially junior level ones) in India appears not to be exactly lucrative, considering young Marjorie and her husband are forced to make a few compromises while choosing her place of stay in the hills. But Marjorie comes across as a pleasant, optimistic woman who wants to make the best of her time in India and enjoy whatever privileges that are thrown her way. She is obviously delighted to have so much help around her house and describes their duties in great detail. She talks about the daily 'Chotta hazri' (early morning tea with biscuits) which she and her husband relish together, before the well-laid out breakfast that comes later.
Her only real distress arises when she falls sick with a stomach infection and her new born contracts it too. Also, the time when the Second World War breaks off seems like a distressing time for English families in India, with many being hastily packed off to England or South Africa by ships. Marjorie too is faced with the same predicament and prays to God when she survives the sea journey -which itself had turned into a war-zone around the time.

Barring that, her narration seems like a reiteration of the rosy lifestyle the British led in India.
She describes a special tour she and her husband bagged to the Kashmiri King’s palace and the scenic beauty they enjoyed. Later, when her husband gets transferred to Mumbai, she gets used to the hustle-bustle of a city in a prosperous locality, comprising Parsees and effluent Indians. She says she was tempted to befriend her Indian neighbours but resisted as ‘socialising with Indians was frowned upon by the English community’
Marjorie remembers her stay in India with great fondness and produces several pictures during her decade long stay. Some of the friendships she struck with the wives of officers continues till date, she says.
One only wishes the author had opted for an alternative title (this one sounds awfully snobbish) but one guesses she was particularly pleased about the regal lifestyle that India afforded her.

Book Review: A Girl and A River

Author: Usha K R
Pages: 324
Published by: Penguin
Price: Rs 295

This River runs deep

It's been a while since I've read a book where the author displays such fine sway over her content and craft. Usha K R has been writing for more than a decade now (her last novel was The Chosen) and while she has always received rave reviews for her works, it is her latest book, A Girl And A River that has come in for some much-deserved critical attention. The author was the recipient of the Crossword Award recently, where she won in the Fiction category for the same book --- while William Darlymple received the award in the Non-fiction section.

On the surface (and as the book cover demonstrates), it is a straightforward story --- that of Setu and Kaveri's life -- a brother and sister duo brought up in pre independence Mysore and the unexpected turns their lives take. Nothing prepares you for the complex, ironic web of human relationships, emotions and the play of fate ---- influenced by circumstance as much as by character--- that the author so elegantly unravels.

Usha draws up an exhaustive social scape of the 1930 and '40s with meticulous detailing on every level, studding it with keenly fleshed out characters- their actions closely linked with the moral and social fibre of the time. So you have the patriarch, Mylaraiah -- running his prosperous household-- happy to be a beneficiary under the Britishers and hoping things will run as smoothly as they are. He’s surrounding by charismatic men like Narayana Rao and CG K Sir (the history teacher at school who writes anonymous letters in newspaper columns in support of the freedom struggle), who play a proactive role in getting rid of the British. Mylaraiah, if he feels a sense of inadequacy and guilt about supporting the English, quells these emotions by making donations to welfare projects (soft issues like Khadi and so on) undertaken by Narayana Rao. Mylaraiah’s teenage son, Setu is too overwhelmed by his father's aura to defy him and join any of the prevailing freedom struggle groups. He watches them from a distance - with a glint of envy.

Not surprisingly, the two women of the house –Mylaraiah’s wife Rukmani and their free-spirited daughter Kaveri grow up (since Rukmani too came to the house as a child-bride) finding the outside world with men like Narayana Rao and C G K’s son Shyam respectively irresistibly attractive. To their imaginative, idealistic minds, these were the men of real action, men who could change the course of history with their fiery speeches and ideals. These were local heroes who thought nothing of sacrificing their personal lives and comforts in the wake of the freedoms struggle.
The men of the house dismiss the rising nationalistic fervour in their women as something stemming from 'a vague notion of patriotism' and think it appropriate to nip such feelings in the bid.

Rukmani’s disillusionment comes when Narayana Rao marries off his 12 year old daughter, inspite of preaching against the practice of child marriage. To her mind, this is a breach of trust from the man she loved and respected. It causes her ill-health and she loses her vitality forever. However, the fate that befalls her daughter, Kaveri -- fed on stories of valour in novels-- is the more poignant one. Having lived in her own world of dashing heroes (and nearly found and lost one in Shyam), she is unable to bear the emptiness and drudgery of a loveless marriage - in some measure brought on by her own family.

The author explores all these threads using one common story - that of Setu's grown-up daughter (in the 1980s) trying to unravel the tragic mystery behind the woman who was not just her 'aunt' but something more too.
Usha K R - while recounting the story - gives a vivid picture of pre-independence South India -introducing characters like Dr King (an Englishwoman who treats patients in the town, riding from place to place on a bicycle) and her snobbish niece Ella. Then there other interesting ones like Rukmani’s flame-throwing, quick-witted cousin Shivaswami or Setu’s childhood friend Chapdi Kal.

It’s truly remarkable how Usha crafts this story, never hitting a wrong note once. Yet, for all its wonderful strengths, this is not the easiest of reads. Its language is impeccable but tends to get too wordy at various points. Also, the detailing can be a bit tiresome and heavy for those who want to get on with the story. This book could have easily been 25-30 pages short.
Also, the story keeps moving between two different time span and that can be confusing for the first time reader.

The book's true worth really unfolds with a second reading, if you ask me. The first time I found myself grappling to keep pace with the numerous characters and time-shifts. That's another thing--- this book seems to run at a stretch and it doesn't help that the words keep tumbling on each other. So while it's awe-inspiring to see the writer's command of her subject and language, I wished she’d allowed her narrative to breath easy at some points.
But again, to her credit, Usha constructs the story in a manner wherein some amount of tension pervades the entire story and the suspense is intact till the very end.
Finally, this is a riveting book, one that is dexterous and rich. More importantly, it respects its reader's intelligence by saying a lot and leaving a lot more unsaid.
-Sandhya Iyer

Interview Usha K R

You recently won the Vodafone Crossword Award 2007 for Best Work in English Fiction? Was the honour expected? The reviews to the book of course were very encouraging…

UKR: The book was shortlisted earlier this year for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize 2008. So I had a faint hope. But the short list for the Vodafone Crossword Award was very strong – it showed the sweep of the judges’ expectations. So the honour was unexpected.

You've been a writer for a while now. Would you say it's the first time that your work has won such an honour /visibility?

UKR: Whatever critical attention my novels have received so far – Sojourn in 1998. The Chosen in 2003 and now A Girl and a River has been positive, but the award has brought my work visibility that it did not have before.

You've written two books and other short stories prior to A Girl And A River. Can you tell us a little about your journey as a writer so far?

UKR: If I have to ‘read’ my work, I’d say the broad theme is the contradiction and the constant friction between character and circumstance. I seem to be exploring aspects of this theme almost without realizing it. My preference is for grounded storytelling with an intriguing but organic structure.

A Girl And A River is a complex, rich work of fiction on all counts and functions on various levels at the same time. Was there a single point on which you started the story, after which you weaved in other elements?

UKR: What first came to me with this book were the two children Setu and Kaveri in a 1930s setting – and I knew that I had to work their story along the lines of cocooned lives being torn apart by the tides of history and their own bewilderment in the face of change. This had to run parallel to the larger story of the nation, the country coping with independence.

The book's narrative style, going back and forth, and divided into two different time spans shifting from first person to third, is interesting. How did that choice come about? While it adds more depth to the story, it can be a little confusing to a first-timer….

UKR: You may find it strange but writers often conceive of the story and the structure simultaneously – one growing out of and feeding on the other. I knew that I had to have two distinct voices, not just to separate the chronology of the book but also to signal the different sensibilities and moods of the characters and the times. I also wanted to carry the reader along, inviting her to unravel the mystery along with me, and I feel it has worked.

The book has the backdrop of pre-independence South India…what kind of research went into the book and how much have you drawn from your own life-experiences?

UKR: I had to read quite a bit of local history but the spirit of the book comes from the experiences of many who had lived through those times – I have to thank them for the authentic feel of the book.

7)From the past few years, Indian lit in English has been dominated by diasporic authors. Do you see a problem of 'authenticity' when they write on India? Also, when too much of Indian writing is done by authors based abroad, it can create a skewed vision of things. Do you see it essential that Indian fiction in English must have more books written by authors based in the country itself?

UKR: The question of ‘authenticity’ arises when we are talking of straightforward, realistic accounts. Writers like Rushdie circumvent it with the mode they choose to write in. So long as the end product is convincing and has literary merit, it should not matter whether you live in India or abroad, whether you write in English or any other Indian language. The problem is that of visibility. Books by ‘Indian’ writers do not get noticed and reviewed as much. Which is why I was surprised when ‘Girl … ‘ won the Crossword award. We still look for some form of endorsement from the west.

How 'Indian' is Indian Writing In English

How 'Indian' is Indian writing in English?
Are diasporic writers still its commanding masters or are desi counterparts finally finding a voice? Sandhya Iyer strikes a debate, only to discover that the literary scene is ridden in complexities

For a while now the 'outside', 'insider' debate has been raging across literary circles. For more than three decades now, diaspora writers --- born in India but settled abroad --- have dominated the literary firmament. They have undeniably been the 'face' of Indian Writing in English (IWE) and its most visible representatives. Clearly, we ought to celebrate the immense prestige that writers like Salman Rushdie, Vikram Seth, Rohinton Mistry, Kiran Desai, Jhumpa Lahiri, Amitav Ghosh, Chitra Divakaruni, Amartya Sen have brought to IWE. In some measure - inspite of the fact that writer Shashi Tharoor resides abraod, he ought to be included here. He has been an Indian 'official' after all.

It would be fair to say that the entire 'A' list of commercially successful writers function from the West. However, this has brought in its share of criticism on issues like authenticity and the idea of NRI authors selling Indian exotica to the West. "How can a writer sitting in the first world write about the third world?" native writers ask.

Back home, we've had commendable authors like Ramachandra Guha, Kiran Nagarkar, Shashi Deshpande, Usha K R, Ira Deshpande, Esther David, Upamanyu Chatterjee and so on. But, the success ratio remains tilted towards prize-winning NRI novelists --- with greater brand appeal and possibly snob value even. Save for a Arundhati Roy (The God Of Small Things), Khushwant Singh, to an extent Shobhaa De and now, Chetan Bhagat (Five Point Someone, One Night @ A Call Centre, The 3 Mistakes of My Life), no writer in India has really entered the collective consciousness where English writing in India goes.

However, writers and others in the know here believe that things are changing for the better and publishing houses are looking at tapping into the all-strong English-educated base in the country. So have 'midnight's children' finally come of age or is there still a long way to go?

The question of 'representation'
The common refrain is, why don't we see more writers like R K Narayan, Arun Kolatkar, Ruskin Bond, Mulk Raj Anand etc? All their writings being deeply rooted in their own culture instantly connected with readers. Post '70s, there came a new wave in IWE by way of Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children that caught the world's attention. Rushdie revitalised and rejuvenated IWE.
Unfortunately, the publishing industry in India was hardly as robust as it is today (we've never been a serious market for English language books), which meant not too many desi writers could get noticed globally.
This naturally presented an unusual situation where it was left to our NRI writers to explain 'us' to the world. Doesn't that create a stilted vision?
"It is obvious that Indian writing in English is not 'representative'--- but this raises the question of whether it is even the function of writing to be 'representative'; one might say it is not --- there is a difference between writing and representative democracy. Perhaps the problem arises because of our insistence on using the term "Indian", and then complaining when various writers (be it Jhumpa Lahiri or Amit Chaudhuri or Rushdie) are insufficiently Indian. But "Indian" means many things, and it shouldn't surprise us that reality does not conform to our abstractions. An authenticity litmus test would be intolerable -- by that yardstick, Chekhov and Joyce might have failed Russian and Irish literature, respectively." says literary enthusiast and avid blogger Umair Ahmed Muhajir.
He believes that lack of English translations (except for small tokens) for regional literature is certainly distorting. "It's a world missed," he says.

Aspiring filmmaker and literature student Abhishek Bandekar believes writers -whether diasporic or India come with their own strengths and that needs to be recogonised. "Indian Writing in English(IWE) or Indian English Literature(IEL) is a troubled breed of literature. It has to grapple with concerns of authenticity and identity. But it’s an ironic struggle. The classification of IWE as post-colonial literature limits its scope; restricting authors(native or NRI) to recount merely that which is nostalgic or ‘imagined’(in as much as ‘imagined’ is that which is not ‘exoticised’). Even if one were to leave aside the whole native IWE vs NRI IWE argument for a moment, one is still confronted with the problem of ‘different’ truths. A Salman Rushdie is radically different from an RK Narayan. The former’s works while championing the hybrid of pidgin English nevertheless falls prey to cultural imperialism, in that it interprets the ‘past’, without ‘imagining’ the future. The latter’s works on the other hand, may employ 'standard english' but stays true to its cultural roots, in that the works require and expect cultural familiarity," he views.

Does location matter for 'authentic' literature?

Devyani Satzman, writer of the book Shooting Water and daughter of filmmaker Deepa Mehta, lives in Canada. She says, "Fundamentally, I think all perspectives and voices are valid. Ultimately, stories should introduce us to new worlds, and I'm not as concerned about where the writer resides as long as they do a good job taking us into that world."

Renowned poet Dilip Chitre says, "First of all, non-resident Indian describes two kinds of people: 1. Those who have migrated to other countries; and 2.Those whose parents were immigrants. Salman Rushdie belongs to the first category (but so do many physicians, surgeons, space scientists, managers, software engineers, teachers etc); and V S Naipaul to the second. He adds, "Just by living in India, nobody becomes a representative of Indian writing. If you are a good novelist, poet, playwright, or a poet the language you write in is secondary to your talent. Artistic authenticity is primary; nationality and/or mother-tongue culture are incidental."

However, Murzban Shroff, whose book Breathless In Bombay got rave reviews believes location is an important criteria for authenticity. Shroff stays in Mumbai and feels that enabled him to come up with a 'solidly researched book' "I wish people like Rushdie and others could base themselves in India and recount stories from here. That way, we'll have Indian content and Western craft and in my view that's the perfect balance," he says.

Are desi writers in India close to bringing about a change?

Many authors believe much has changed for the better where IWE is concerned for desi writers. Chetan Bhagat, who seldom gives up an opportunity to criticise the elitist club of NRI writers makes it clear that his target readers are only Indians. And the fact that he's one of the highest selling authors the country has led to several people from all walks of life picking up the pen.
Says Gouri Dange, who recently published her book 3 Zakia Mansion, "Honestly, I was daunted at the prospect of writing. Since I was simultaneously reading Rushdie's Shalimar, The Clown, I kept feeling my language was too seedha-saadha but then I soon got over it, thinking 'that exists but this can exist too."
Publishing opportunities have vastly grown in the last five-six years, says Janaki Vaswanath, owner of the bookstore twistntales and she believes it is a natural outcome of the country getting dominant on the world stage.

Sampurna Chattarji, a poet, fiction-writer and translator, adds another dimension to the discussion. This proliferation can have a flip side as well, she believes. "In the rush to compete for genre-slots especially, a lot of sub-standard work is getting published and that can only be detrimental to the growth of IWE in the truest sense of the writing going from strength to strength. What we need is perceptive editors and agents who will be able to identify and promote the best writing being done in India today. Unfortunately, IWE is still seen as a territory largely ruled by fiction, when the truth is that exciting new work is also being done by poets writing in English."

But not all are equally optimistic about the flowering of IWE here.
Murzban Shroff says the draft for his book met with a cold reaction when he submitted it to Indian publishers. On the other hand, international publishers were more than forthcoming.
He adds, "Even if Indian publishers were to give you an opportunity to write, they expect you to do your own marketing --- getting a star to launch your book and so on."
He also rules out writing predominantly for an Indian audience, observing that the market here is still to evolve.

Binoo K John, who recently wrote the witty Entry From The Backside Only, categorically believes that diaspora writers are still ruling the roost. "All of this year's major releases have all been from NRIs: Jhumpa Lahiri (who got a big award last month for Unaccustomed Earth), Chitra Divakarunni, Amitav Ghosh, Salman Rushdie. Diasporic writings have their own place in literature and in IWE. One genre does not grow by stymieing the others. The two genres have parallel lives and why not? In fact diasporic writing has consistently scored over Indian writing (due to advantages of being in the first world)," he says.
Ultimately, one would have to submit to Dilip Chitre's view that only the future can take this story forward.
"The fact that English is a global language, with more speakers between Mumbai and Shanghai than in the entire United States, will sooner or later affect publishers' marketing strategies. The fate of writers may still be decided in London or New York; but the franchisees of publishing corporates operating in vast potential markets such as India will start betting on local talent," he believes.

Past Perspective: An Area Of Darkness

An Area of Darkness

Author: V S Naipaul
Published in: 1964
Genre: Travelogue

Nai-appalled

V. S Naipaul has always been a controversial figure. Whether it is for his rude behaviour towards fellow writers at conferences or his show of support for India's Hindutva ring, Bharatiya Janata Party or his admission in his autobiography that his callousness killed his wife, this Trinidadian author has always been some sort of an enfant terrible of English literature. For all his genius, he also remains a vilified figure in India and not without reason. The Area of Darkness, when it was published in 1964, created an uproar among Indians and was intensely criticised for its unkind, deriding and supercilious view of India.

Naipaul's literature, much like his personality demonstrates a certain extremism -where there are few or no grey areas. And that is most evident in The Area of Darkness. (His subsequent work, India; A Million Mutinies Now was a far more objective and detailed read -in many ways, this is his best book, apart from A House For Mr Biswas). The book is about how Naipaul built a 'mythical' image about India staying in Trinidad (Naipaul's grandfather was from India and they re-located to West Indies - in a small British colony called Trinidad) and how his one-year visit to India shattered his childhood image of the country. The entire experience is a deeply personal one -- and Naipaul himself behaves like a rather fussy, ungenerous foreign-returned guy(he was just about 30 years old) who criticises the loss of his 'imagined world' without bothering to delve into the reasons for it. This was a plundered country that was struggling to fight its colonial past and tackle some enormous problems at hand.

From the moment he arrives in the country, he applies his own litmus test on it and decides it's a failed nation on every count. So to Naipaul, the weather is oppressive, the poverty is horrifying, people squat defecating all over the place, they serve food with unclean hands, they overcharge customers and what more, even their films don't offer a respite! Naipual has not one good thing to say about the country but doesn't show the slightest hesitation to indulge in gross overstatements and ridiculous generalisations with comments like 'Indians lack in courage...they have been known to go on picknicking on a bank while a stranger drowned' or that 'Indians defecate everywhere'
And this is a bit strange considering half the book is dedicated to his three-month long stay in a cozy, pampered House Boat in the picturesque Kashmir valley. Yet, Naipaul sees no beauty in the land!

Naipaul makes some very sound points when he talks of India being a country of symbolic, speech-making gestures. Whether it was the '60s or today, action is by way of symbols rather than concrete measures. He's also right to be irritated about Indians and their stubborn unwillingness to see what is obvious. They turn a blind eye to what is painful or disgusting and go about their business like nothing happened. This is important because not much has changed for in India in this respect. They continue to be escapists. Economically of course, the country has progressed by leaps and though I don't share all of Shobhaa De's exuberance on this, India is surging forward more confidently than it ever did.
It's difficult to take Naipaul's criticism seriously because most of it seems like an effort to deconstruct the notion of India. There's perverse cynicism at work and the author -while criticising the country's present-- makes no effort to understand its tumultuous recent past or look into its prospects. Hence, even as a piece of work, it remains a highly personal account which unjustly creates and reinforces colonial prejudices.

Two of his observations in particular are condescending and unjustifiable. Naipaul talks of how incongruous India's premier buildings appear in the face of its squalor and poverty. "It is building for the sake of building, creation for the sake of creation....In the North, the ruins (forts etc) speak of waste and failure and the very grandeur of the Mughal buildings is oppressive. Europe has its monuments of Sun-Kings, its Louvres and Versailles. But they are part of the development of a country's spirits."
In a display of unimaginable bad faith, he even suggests that the Taj Mahal could be transported slab by slab to United States and re-erected and it would seem wholly admirable. There, he implies that the edifice would serve a meaning. Here, he says, it is only a despot's monument with poverty around it.

Again, he talks of how the English language is the 'greatest incongruity of British rule' and has caused 'psychological damage' to the country through its continued official use. English, Naipaul should know was never thrust upon Indians. Other countries resisted it, Indians were attracted to it. Today, India constitutes one of the largest English speaking nations and this has had tremendous impact on its global appeal and economic progress. It's unfortunate that Naipaul chose not to see at all the fascinating side of India- its splendid diversity, it colour and cuisines, its incredible warmth and festivity - which today has made it one of the top most tourist destinations in the world.
The only aspect about India Naipaul seems to have really liked is its Railway system which he describes as 'too fine and complex' for a country like India. Phew!

Review: Superstar India; From Incredible to Unstoppable

Author: Shobhaa De
Publishers: Penguin
Pages: 456
Price: 350
Published In: 2008 (April)

India wears Prada

One of the early lessons one learns in one's career as a feature writer is that no amount of style can compensate for substance. Clearly, there's no rule there, as De proves week after week in her saucy Sunday column for a leading newspaper. That she's a frisky personality, with a penchant for fame-throwing and interesting phrase-making ('careeristic bitch' -that's what she said in reference to Preity Zinta's role in KANK) --- not to forget an incorrigible contrarian streak -- make her a quick-fix masala writer.
Now, that's perfectly fine when she restricts herself to themes about backbiting friends in a kitty club (Starry Nights) or catty advice on how men should be 'handled' (Surviving Men) but writing a book on any aspect of India needs to be done with more understanding and insight.

De's new book draws a co-relation between the author and the country's age (60) and how India is evolving into a superpower. The book's title is ominously similar to BJP's 2004 election campaign, Shining India and we know how misplaced that idea turned out to be. Similarly Shobhaa De's notion of linking the country's prosperity with the spending patters of a miniscule population (Bentley cars, Fendi bags) is equally that of naive exuberance. De takes a view on everything from the prism of her own affluent lifestyle and that of her inner circle of friends and acquaintances ---- trips abroad, living in posh star hotels, visiting spas, shopping in Milan and Paris.
Now what I found funny was that De takes great pains to emphasize her own credentials as one from the upper crust -- 'The Ambanis live in their palatial residence--not far from where I stay' or talking about her globe-trotting with specific attention on the place of stay (either a five star or expensive clubs). There's also an awful lot of reference to various high-end brands ---everything from Cartier watches to Fendi bags to Gucci ---- stuff that is clearly out of reach for 99 per cent of India's population. To use this as a barometer for any kind of progress is in itself very skewed.

In slightly broader terms, De's view can be held in perspective. As she says, more Indians are traveling abroad; people are willing to spend for luxury items, the younger generation is financially better off. Most of it is a result of India's growing clout in the IT, BPO and entertainment industries. She also maybe right when she says that India once viewed as a third world country is today an attractive proposition for not just foreigners to invest, travel etc but also to NRIs --- who feel their own motherland has a lot to offer now. That India is evolving and growing is a sure sign, but the reason why not many are breaking into any kind of jubilation (De wonders why Indians are apologetic about their success...and feels we badly need our cheerleaders) is because there are several aspects that are still screaming for attention.
De keeps mentioning how this phenomenon in not just a Delhi-Mumbai niche. I would be prompted to think that it is and real progress entails development and prosperity for the country as a whole. The country is still reeling under concerns like traffic, poor infrastructure, inflation, corruption, hygiene. (Not that De completely turns a blind eye to the startling poverty and squalor...in the middle of her hi-tea with a certain country's ambassador or the other, she suddenly seems to feel that she isn't taking enough about the less privileged.)

With its limitations, the author makes a few valid points about urban lifestyle - about how junk food is eating into the health of urban kids, on how children in India are a spoilt lot - with parents taking most of the burden on themselves.

That apart, one very serious problem with this book is that it just keeps flitting from one topic to the other without making a point. Like she talks about our apathy towards the State and how our leaders are taking advantage of this attitude and then without any cue, talks about a conversation she had with her chauffeur in Singapore and how he extolled Mahatma Gandhi and pointed towards the hardships in his own country. There are innumerable instances of this kind and as a reader it's frustrating when you see topic after topic thrown up without any point being made. Like she says about Mayawati, 'She is the future of India, it isn't an attractive face, but it's an unforgettable one?' and leaves you to guess what she meant.

More annoyingly, the fact that the book is so low on any kind of research makes it difficult to attach any credibility to many of De's off-hand statements. Like she talks about America losing ground, "For America to regain its lost glory much more will have to be done than pulling out of Iraq with its tail between its legs. The world has no forgotten the mess in Vietnam. Well, that has got salvaged over a period of thirty years. But to most America-watchers, the current imbroglio is not going to be that easy to resolve. The slide has begun"
It takes some courage to call what happened in Vietnam just a 'mess'

Like all other De writings, it's an easy read, though it's a bit of an irritant to see her pepper her sentences with Hindi words like, 'Goli Maro to the skeptics' or 'Our attitude to sex is very ajeeb' If this is the turn Indian English is taking, it’s distressing.

In the end, it's a book that doesn't add up to much at all. The tone is too elitist and and too narrow in its assumptions. It's very much like a drawing room discussion where nothing's verifyable and anything goes.

Book review: Three Mistakes Of My Life

Author: Chetan Bhagat
Price: Rs 95
Publishers: Rupa
Published in 2008


The best selling feature of a Chetan Bhagat book is its readability. In a world where one is constantly striving to find time, it truly matters when you can actually finish reading a book within a couple of hours. Also, when he isn't getting too filmy and over-the-top, Chetan actually manages to hold a story well enough. That was evident with both Five Point Someone and One Night At A Call Centre. The former especially works as an excellent satire on the education system I thought.

Chetan's third book, the just-launched Three Mistakes Of My Life starts off in the same effective manner as his earlier two books, but unlike the other two, this one starts to appear too far-fetched towards the middle and then just irrevocably falls apart in the end.

The story recounts the life of three youths, Omi, Ishaan and Govind trying to make a life staying in small-town Gujarat. Given Govind's business acumen and Ishaan's love for cricket, the youngsters decide to open a shop that sells cricket goods. Omi's family helps them to get a rented place outside a temple, and soon enough the place is a hit with the locals. Chetan's biggest strength as a writer is his ability to create interesting settings and situations.

Moving on, Ishan takes a great liking to one of the local Muslim boys, Ali with a magical ability to smash the ball for a six each time. Living with the regret of making it himself, Ishan decides to train the 12-year old. Strangely, the lad himself is least interested in cricket but Ishan and his friends take it upon themselves to not only train him for free, but even endure great pains to take him all the way to Sydney at the suggestion of one of the Australian players. There, Ali is offered a contract on the condition that he become an Australian national only to have the 12-year-old spout dramatic lines such as, 'Does that mean I cannot play for India?! Then I don't want it!' and walk away.

This is where the novel begins to disintegrate and goes on to become embarrasingly over-the-top and melodramatic. As long as the author only incorporates the Gujarat earthquake and how it brings down the hopes of one of the novel's lead character, Govind -- Chetan's attempt at infusing a natural disaster with the personal is acceptable. But it's hardly likely that both the Godhra episode and the following riots would again have a direct bearing on these very characters.

The last few chapters especially go out of hand. One knows Chetan's a big fan of Bollywood and believes that much like a Hindi film that must have action in the end, a novel too must have its share of blood and gore to make it wholesome enough. First of all, Bollywood itself is moving away from formulaic fares so Chetan's jumped in a bit late here. Secondly, there is no emotional resonance or reasoning to any of the violence that takes place in the temple, with the Hindus trying to attack Ali with Ishan and others trying to save him.
It's never clear why these youths are fussing over Ali so much. There's only one explanation given - that he's gifted. Why would anyone in their right mind take him all the way to Australia or give up their life (yes, one of the youngsters dies trying to protect the boy!) to preserve his talent. None of their sympathies for him are based on the fact that he's a Muslim, nor do they save him out of any moral obligation apart from the fact that he is a potential cricketing great! Chetan's intentions are honourable but his notions of nationalism and patriotism are just too naive and simplistic.

In between, there's a love story thrown in between Govind and Ishan's sister, only to have Omi spout cheesy lines like, 'You can't hit on your friend's sister, that's an unwritten rule' etc.

Honesty, I wanted to like this book. It begins well, it’s setting is nice and it truly attempts to give the reader a slice of small-town India. Too bad, the book goes nowhere with it.

-Sandhya Iyer

Interview with Chetan Bhagat

“I can’t say much about Salman Rushdie, I'm more like Salman Khan," quips Chetan Bhagat, who was at Big Bazaar yesterday for the launch of his third book, Three Mistakes Of My Life.

The author’s earlier books,--- Five Point Someone and One Night At the Call Centre--have both been record best-sellers, making him a cult figure of sorts among youngsters. The critics of course haven’t warmed up to him calling his writing everything from 'fluke' to 'naive'. But Chetan couldn't care less. He says, "I want my books to reach anyone who has a moderate understanding of English. Even Hindi medium students can grasp the language in my books."

More importantly, the author is determined to pull down Indian writing in English from its high horse --one that he says reeks of elitism, he says-- and make it relatable to the educated middle-class. Which is one of the reasons Chetan decided to hold his book launch at a place like Big Bazaar, he tells us. "I could have done this event in any five-star hotel but really, that is not what I'm looking at. When my friends heard, I was releasing my book at Big Bazaar, they wondered if I was mad. But this is the real India, so why shouldn't I do it here?"

The unwillingness to accept Chetan into the literary fold also stems from the fact that Indian writing in English has always been very ‘concentrated’ in more ways than one. This is quite unlike, say America where all kinds of fiction –whether for mass consumption or otherwise find a place. In that sense, the Indian literary scene is more of a snoot club, he feels. “You know, the interesting thing is that they don’t know how to deal with me. I’ve studied at elitist institutions like IIT and IIM, so in a way, they know I have all the credentials to boast. Honestly, I find their snootiness sick. For some people, the British never left and nor did colonialism,” he says spewing venom at his detractors.

In one final assault, he says about Indian writers in English “I think we wasted 30-40 years…just chasing awards. That's the truth but when Chetan says it he gets slammed for it. These writers only target the West…they have no interest in appealing to the Indian audiences.”
Finally, about his just-released book, Three Mistakes Of My Life –the story does appear to go a bit over-the-top but Chetan says he didn’t want it any other way. “Firstly, I’m not a perfectionist. Secondly, I needed a dramatic ending. I cannot create a lame narrative when I’m taking about events in Gujarat. It’s over-the-top because the events themselves were over-the-top,” he says emphatically.

Given the growing appeal of his books among youngsters, Bollywood is taking to Chetan like never before. While his One Night At A Call Centre is being adapted into a film called Hello directed by Atul Agnihotri, his Five Point Someone is being made into an Aamir Khan starrer, Idiots, which is to be directed by Raju Hirani and produced by Vidhu Vinod Chopra.
Says Chetan, "Raju (Hirani) was my first introduction to Bollywood. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn't have made any inroads here. He had read my first book and had loved it. When I met him, he asked me to remain quiet for some time and just listen to the praise he had meant to heap on me. (laughs)."

But would Aamir Khan look convincing as a student? He's playing the dare-devil character of Ryan, right? "Yes, he's playing Ryan. I think Aamir is Aamir, he can play anything convincingly. Agar hum chalis ke hain, toh lagtein hain, Aamir nahin lagta. In any case, I believe the story is being approached a bit differently. It has a lot of flashbacks, so the story starts from where the book ends."

In general, does Chetan insist that his story is not tampered with much? The young author shakes his head, saying, "No, I have no such conditions. They can interpret the story the way they like. See I think my book is like my daughter and a filmmaker is allowed to glamourises her. I don't mind if some light-make-up is applied to her, but I wouldn't like plastic surgeries to be done," he smiles.

Interview: Devyani Saltzman

'I think it's important to never be too literal in an adaptation'

Devyani Saltzman is the wonderfully talented daughter of filmmaker Deepa Mehta who came into her own with her debut book, Shooting Water last year. Besides capturing the trying times that the cast and crew of Water faced shooting of the film in India, the book really is about Devyani's emotional re-connect not just with India and her mother but also herself.

1. Anyone who reads Shooting Water will know that you are no writer by accident. You are tremendously gifted. But your initiation into the field seems like one, considering you chose the subject of Water and the incidents surrounding it? Is it that you were looking for inspiration to take flight as a writer?

I had been writing since I was a little girl, mostly short stories and plays. Shooting Water became my first book because it was a story I was passionate about. I've always been drawn to literary non-fiction, and after the five-year journey of making the film, I realised that it was a story worthy of the medium.

2. What has been your formative influence as a writer and what sort of literature has inspired you? Are you an avid reader? If so, what do you enjoy reading?

I am an avid reader. Writing began with reading for me. Books that inspired me to write Shooting Water included New Zealand writer Janet Frame's autobiography An Angel at My Table, for it's emotional honesty. Philip Gourevitch's nonfiction account of the genocide in Rwanda, for giving difficult political situations a human scale and Alexandra Fuller's beautiful memoir Don't Lets Go to the Dogs Tonight, interweaving a white Zimbabwean girl's coming of age with the dawning of independence in Rhodesia.

3. For a book that explores so many aspects of human life, did you ever imagine that Shooting Water could be a limiting title? Because besides the obvious incidents and controversies you mention, I saw the book essentially as a journey of a young woman, her tumultous relationship with her mother, her inner urge to fight the demons of her past and reclaim her self-worth, her dejection at love...so many things. Also, considering that so many books are regularly being written on 'Making of a film', didn't you fear Shooting Water could be clubbed among them?

When I sat down to write the book I wrote three things in my notebook: Political, personal and cinematic. I always knew Shooting Water would be a balance of those three themes. My job was to weave them together. Also, I couldn't afford to worry about how someone might position a book by it's title. I spent my energy drawing the story I wished to tell, and hoping an adventurous reader would discover it for what it is on their own terms.

4. For the first time, your book reveals a side of your mother Deepa Mehta which the world had not known -- not just the fact that she was hassled due to the various controversies surrounding the film but also some of the intensely private moments from her life as a wife andmother. How comfortable were you doing that and similarly, was Deepa skeptical on that front?

The beautiful thing about writing the book was that both of my parents were very supportive of it. I am grateful for their strength dealing with the rawer elements of the narrative, but I think they knew that the book was more than just a personal tale, which helped balance it out. Also, my mom and I enjoy a great creative relationship. I'm her first reader for her scripts and she's my first reader for articles and manuscripts.

5. You mention Anurag Kashyap in your book quite a few times. Did he read Shooting Water and tell you what he thought of it? Also, what do make of him as a filmmaker?

I love Anurag. I think he's incredibly talented, and I really enjoy his company. I haven't had a chance to talk to him about the book, but to be honest, we are both far along on other projects and its imperative to let past projects go in order to continue creating.

6. Devyani, most writers today of Indian English are NRIs, every other novel talks about the Indian Diaspora (The Gifted, The Namesake). If not, it tracks the journey of an NRI in search of his/her roots (The Hungry Tide etc). Most Pakistani writers (Moshin Hamid, Kamila Shamsie) are also foreign-based. And even otherwise, there's this whole urge among writers to 'globalize' their stories, creating an artificial fluidity among nations. Do you suspect this alienates readers and creates a skewed vision of India? Also in the process of appealing to a wider readership, does it not offer an Indian experience from a 'specific' prism?

An essential and challenging question. Fundamentally, I think all perspectives and voices are valid. I would think a reader of The Namesake, or Shooting Water, would be aware that these books were written from an insider/outsider perspective on India. If that leads them to explore more writing from authors who are residents of the country, all the better. Ultimately, stories should introduce us to new worlds, and I'm not as concerned about where the writer resides as long as they do a good job taking us into that world.

5. Do you see the above as a natural consequence of more and more Indian writers in English based abroad or is it merely a marketing gimmick to widen the scope of readership? Films weave in NRI pleasing-moments to appeal to a wide segment of audiences there. Do you see books doing the same?

I see it as less of a marketing gimmick, than a reality of an increasingly mobile, globalised world.

6. Hindi cinema seems to have suddenly woken up to literary adaptations. The hitherto formulaic structure of Bollywood could be blamed for it. But internationally of course, literature has always inspired cinema. Now we have everything from Moth Smoke to The Japanese Wife to The Hundry Tide to One Night At a Call Centre being made into films. How do you personally view literary adaptations and what are the challenges one faces here?

I love literary adaptations. I think it can be wonderful when the vision of a book is extended into film. It's not to say they aren't tricky, but when done well an adaptation of a book into film can breath a whole new life into the original work. I just saw Into the Wild, Sean Penn's adaptation of Jon Krakauer's nonfiction book. I'm a big fan of the book and really enjoyed Penn's take on the subject. He interpretation of the story through imagery and casting choices only enhanced the original. I think it's important to never be too literal in an adaptation. It's more important to capture the essence of the story.

7. Lastly, one's dying to know what you're going to be writing next.

At the moment I'm working on my second book, a novel. It's a very new experience telling a fictional narrative, but I love the room it affords in drawing characters and situations. The book is quite rooted in a real political history - the idea of the Shanti Sena, or Gandhi's peace army - and that gives me a solid base from which to explore the characters' individual journeys.

India in Slow Motion

Ground reality

Author: Mark Tully and Gillian Wright
Price: 450
Published In: 2001
Publishers: Penguin

Reading the first few pages of the book on Ram Janma Bhoomi felt like an extension of the reportage one watches on television all the time. So I set the book aside and did not return to it until very recently.

 

While flipping through it once again, a chapter on 'Creating Cyberabad' in the time of Chandrababu Naidu’s reign caught my attention.  Mark Tully had met the CM and also interviewed many of his critics and opposition ministers who believed Naidu's  much-hailed IT revolution was a sham and that unless he tackled problems at the ground-level, he would fail. That seems very prophetic now after his party was decimated in the ensuing elections.

There are two other chapters which were readable,  one on the carpet industry in Mirzapur and the child labour involved in it and another one on Nizammuddin and the Sufi saints.

Then there’s a chapter on Kashmir where Mark Tully interviews Farookh Abdulla, the flamboyant ex CM of the valley who Tully caught in an unusually irate mood. There’s another interesting chapter here on Water Harvesting projects taken on by some draught prone villages in Gujarat, driven by dynamic and innovative men.

One that I found particularly engaging was the piece on Tehelka’s expose of corruption in defence deals. Mully meets Joseph –Tehelka’s man who actually carried out the sting operation.

A ‘Tale Of Two Brothers’ that talks about V P Singh and his brother and 'Farmer's Reward' are mildly engaging but nothing exceptional.

In this journalistic endevour, Tully and his co-writer Gillian Wright are privy to English breakfasts at their European friend's house in Mirzapur and are generally taken care of by hospitable people,  too overwhelmed to have the ex BBC man among them.

Tully tackles the obvious themes on India but digs deep enough to give readers an in depth perspective. For example, most of us know about the farmer's plight in India but Tully goes a little further and looks into possible solutions.

Admirably, Tully is in no haste to make judgments and for most time, merely presents facts as a balanced observer. Of course when truth stares in the face, he does not hesitate from making a sharp comment. He’s particularly scathing in his criticism of the bureaucracy and corruption that are eating into the country’s progress and posing a hurdle in its development.

Mark Tully demonstrates genuine concern for a country that he's reported for more than 25 years and for most part, this is a fairly engaging read.

If the book is not terribly exciting,  it could be in part due to Tully's journalistic background.  The style for newspapers is usually sparse and impersonal, and when journalists turn writers, that pattern continues.

Entry From Backside Only; hazaar fundas of Indian English

We are like this only!

Author: Binoo K John
Publishers: Penguin
Published in : 2007
Price: 95

There are perhaps several things to disagree with author and senior India Today journalist Binoo K John’s latest book, Entry From Backside Only – a succinct, self-assured book on the ‘hazaar fundas’ of Indian Enligh. For one, there are more presumptions than facts and also a tendency to hastily pin down factors and trends to sensationalist generalisations.

But the one thing you can happily agree is that there's never one dull or dispassionate moment here. Binoo's cheeky, charming take on Indian English is refreshing for the simple reason that he turns around an essentially academic theme and makes it entertaining for the average reader.
What is also appealing (some of course might call it verbal showmanship) is his deep love for the Queen’s language that enables him to articulate with a great panache and flair. Moreover, his generous sprinkling of savoury wit and irreverence makes this petite book a crisp read from the word go.

Sample these lines from the book’s jacket: “Backsides have a frontal position in Indian-English. In cluttered, crowded alleys there can be seen the notice “Entry from the backside”, a usage not exactly meant as a come-hither line to gays.’ From the early days of the Raj, the Indian version of English has been on a growth trajectory that has led to the evolution of what is, for all practical purposes, a language of its own. A hybrid form of English stalks the land, flaunting its illegitimacy, brashness and popularity. The rise of Indian-English runs parallel to tectonic changes in social aspirations. English, says the author, is the Porsche on the porch of the arriviste. There can be no social advancement without the glittering sword of English in your hands. This compendium is thus a journey through a sub-genre that has evolved against all odds....”

Binoo's book talks about how Indians overturn grammar and create phrases of their own --- mostly influenced from their mother-tongue.
But he largely concentrates on the fascination that Indians have for English and how the mongrel form of the language evolved so rapidly. Here there are several suppositions. For one, Binoo feels the educated class were largely influenced by national leaders like Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru who wrote in English. Naturally, many aspired to be part of the national discourse and took to the language in the hope that what they wrote would reach a wider audience.
Another aspect the author looks at is how knowledge of English is considered as a 'social marker' in India; a determinant of one's economic status. He's right in that no other South Eastern countries or even European nations have taken to the Engligh as much as Indians.

Really, our deep fascination for the Queen's tongue---with its ingrained elitisim ----transcends considerations of the country's colonial past. Obviously, English wouldn't have come to us without the Britishers but it stayed here and thrived only because Indians found English and everything it stands for, quite irresistable.

There are chapters here that are entirely devoted to letters that citizens wrote in the post-independence period -- in mostly bombastic language that tried to imitate the British. Once the point is established, it seems tedious to go through all these similar sounding letters.
The last two couple of chapters are especially a drag, as it's clear that the author has clearly run out of mattter. There are pages and pages devoted to Arundhati Roy's The God Of Small Things, a book which impressed Binoo greatly. Then there's this totally inane chapter on Bollywood and its usage of English words that doesn't make any point whatsoever.

What keeps this going is Binoo's interesting style of writing, even if you know that some of his beliefs are misplaced.
My biggest beef with this book is that the author for most time can't decide if it wishes to deride users of Indian English or affectionately patronise them. Which is why, you are confused as to what he really expects and what he is pitting Indian English against?
Yet, for all its weaknesses, this is a refreshing addition to the non-fiction shelf which takes a serious topic and gives it a funny twist. The book is already a best seller (it's agressive pricing at 95 rupees helps of course) and it's nice to see something written on the English language, which undeniably is the most precious jewel we stole from the British.