Category: Favourites

  • No God in Sight

    Altaf Tyrewala

    Somewhere in between a relay race and ‘six degrees of separation’ lies the narrative style of this excellent novel. And just like the city it showcases, it sets a scorching pace. But its not just a microcosm of the city, its also a take on social issues – from religion to class differences to a clash of the old and new. And somewhere in between is a subtext of man’s search for where he came from and where he is going, and the series of connected lives and the sheer weariness that prevents them from being able to think beyond their immediate existence, somehow points towards the title – ‘no god in sight’.

    From the millions that make up the phenomenon that’s Bombay, and gives it a ‘spirit’, the author manages to create a few characters that give us a glimpse of the individual lives. He begins with a seemingly nonchalant treatment of what might be considered a moral issue – abortion, and thus captures the pulse of a city and the thought process and credo of a new generation. But amazingly, there is a universal nature to it too, and more often than not, the author manages to walk this line with balance, despite the majority of characters being Muslim. Featuring the famous local trains, the cop who expounds the logic of his sense of justice, the men who share a name with a terrorist, the book is quintessentially Mumbai, and yet, from another perspective, they’re just human stories. If we juxtapose the allusions to ‘my mumbai’ and ‘your mumbai’ in the corporate executive’s story and the ‘to be comfortable with discomfort, one must banish all contact with ease’ in the butcher’s story, we see two sets of people figuring out their own ways to cope with what the city and life throws at them. Sometimes, they can’t, and all they want to do is escape, like Amin Bhai.

    In just about 170 pages, Altaf Tyrewala creates not just the characters who make Mumbai, but even manages to represent, even if its just through a few examples, how they got there. Can’t even complain about the lack of character development because the snapshots almostd efine the characters. Another great rendition of Mumbai, and a must read!

  • First Darling of the Morning: Selected Memories

    Thrity Umrigar

    Its difficult not to like a book that starts off with a reference to ‘The Sound of Music’. After all, for a generation, there are so many memories attached to that movie. It serves as a good snapshot for what the book holds in store, a ‘Wonder Years’ kind of nostalgic trip, one that I could immediately identify with, and one that supplies many lump-in-the-throat moments. The book is billed as ‘Selected Memories of an Indian Childhood’ and has done an excellent job of it.

    We are with the child when she discovers how the world has different rules for adults and children, when she thinks that she would never grow out of Enid Blyton, only to switch loyalties to Mills & Boon years later. We see her move on to Herman Hesse and becoming obsessed with Van Gogh. We are with her as she grows up and realises that the people around her existed long before her, and are part of stories she never knew.

    Though the story is primarily about her growing up, the author manages to cover a lot of other ground and link it very well with her life. The story of a city that was united across classes by cricket, the story of a middle class that is mostly in denial of the poor that surround them, but also makes unwritten rules for transactions with them. The story of the various strings that pull us, some visible, some not so.

    As she looks back on her life after finishing college and realises the paradoxical importance and unimportance of her relationships with the various people and things in her life – music, books, politics, parents, teachers, relatives and friends, and slowly tries to put them in perspective, I saw a story that could in many ways describe most of humankind and the lives we create for ourselves. And that perhaps would explain why I consider this a must-read.

  • The Inheritance of Loss

    Kiran Desai

    With two main narratives set in Kalimpong and New York, Kiran Desai’s second book is an excellent read which can be viewed from many prisms – the effect of a contact with the ‘west’ on a person used to his Indian-ness, the mess we make of our relationships, our inner conflicts, the way we see ourselves and the reality we choose to accept for ourselves.

    One of the narratives is of Sai, a teen-aged orphan who comes to live with a grandfather who barely knew of her existence, but manages to uncharacteristically accept her presence in his life. The author manages to describe situations and behaviour as seen by her, in a very convincing manner, and I found that a very endearing characteristic of the book. Sai’s grandfather is a retired judge, who after his education in England, developed a contempt for everything Indian, and became a ‘stranger to himself’. His sole companion is Mutt, a dog for whom he has a great affection. The last resident of the household is the cook, whose existence revolves around his son, Biju, who he believes to be in a ‘very good job’ in America.

    The second narrative is of Biju – an illegal alien in New York, forced to move jobs, and live in the worst conditions possible, a far cry from the rosy picture his father imagines. He fights his own conflicts – from cooking beef to interacting with Pakistanis and has a yearning to go back home, where he feels, he can belong. In between, there is also a smaller narrative of the judge’s life before retirement.

    Kiran Desai has an amazing way words – from the way she describes routine household jobs to the view of Kanchenjunga and the mountain foliage, and most importantly, human feelings. She moves seamlessly between places, and even time, and shows a deep understanding of human emotions. Her prose is such that it somehow evokes vivid visuals, and characters you can identify with at a fundamental level. The best part is how she manages to keep the prose flexible enough to accommodate its view from the character involved.

    The book is still and dynamic at the same time, as though mirroring its characters, and it seems as though the author is trying to make a point of the importance of things we choose to disregard as mundane. It is about journeys and our notion of destinations.

    Mixing a backdrop of Gorkhaland militancy with hopeful teen infatuation and managing to convey the facile nature of how we view ourselves – through the main characters, as well as the lives and perceived realities of minor characters like Lola, Noni and Father Booty, and the desperation in them due to the events that surround them, this book seems seeped in misery and unacknowledged yearning, but still manages to give some vague notion of hope, as though there is a basic version of the self that connects all of us, and keeps us ticking.

  • Chasing the Monk’s Shadow

    Mishi Saran

    There are some books that one wishes went on forever, for the vicarious experience offered is incredible. This is one of those. Long after the pages have been completed, the journey promises to stay in my mind.

    It is now exactly a decade since Mishi Saran started on her journey – to follow a monk who had himself made a journey of over 10000 miles, 14 centuries before her time. Xuanzang, who I last met in my history text from school, the monk with the neat backpack.

    The book hooked me right from the time the author described how she found a purpose – “an Indian woman with a Chinese craze, a Chinese monk with an Indian obsession, we had the same schizophrenia, the monk and I. It seemed logical to take the same road.”

    The best journeys are those which traverse time and space in one stroke, and that’s exactly what this book does. Though in many ways, it could be described as a travelogue too, that would be utterly unfair. It is very much a personal journey for the author, a search for her roots, and identity.

    As Mishi Saran travels across China and Central Asia, following Xuanzang’s path, her vivid prose blurs the boundaries that have been created in the modern era, and its easy to see the influence of ancient civilisations and regimes influence art, architecture, language, customs and thus life itself. And at the edges, where its not just cultures that collide, but religions too, as they are reshaped or recast in different moulds – Islam, Buddhism, Sufism…

    The writing style forces one to make the journey with her, and I could see that there were actually three journeys unraveling simultaneously – the author, the monk, and the Buddha himself. All of them journeys with a purpose.

    And amidst all the eloquence, it has obviously been a journey that required grit and courage.. And luck, which many a time failed the author. From places where children going to school needed visas and permits, to the posturing of a few contemporary students of Buddhism, to the origins of words that are still used in common parlance, and characters which seem to leap out of history pages – Ashoka, Kanishka, Chandragupta, the pages hold in them, tangential journeys for the reader.

    The last part of the book, where the author gets to (almost) finally visit the territories crossed by Xuanzang in Afghanistan, is written a month before 9/11, and gives us a gripping account of Afghanistan under the Taliban, with glimpses of people who have perhaps yet to find peace. “I believed him. It was hard not to believe a man when you were standing in front of his blown-up home and staring at the ruins of his life. Whatever the story was, this was his truth.” Unlike fiction, one cannot console the self that the person and his story are imaginary. The last part of the journey does not add a lot with respect to the purpose of the book, but it’s a part that I’m glad the author chose to add here.

    As a reader, I could relate to the author’s words in the last page “…I understood less, not more…. I had acquired this sadness”, and that is what makes this book one of the best I’ve read.

  • Illusions

    Richard Bach

    Richard Bach and Donald Shimoda, master and disciple. One, a messiah waiting to retire and the other reluctant to learn. Both barnstorming pilots in mid west America.

    The book is about our perspectives and perceptions of reality, and a view that what we see around us is an illusion.. of our own making, a manifestation of what we want it to be.

    Shimoda is tired of being a messiah as he thinks people are more interested in the miracles he shows them, than any understanding of what he’s trying to say. As the narrative progresses, Richard is first awed by the miracles himself, but then starts questioning his sense of reality and begins the journey to become a messiah himself.

    The book consists of many profound quotes from what is called the “Messiah’s Handbook”, which Shimoda lends to Richard. A handbook with no pages, because it opens to the page which answers the questions in the reader’s mind, but like Shimoda says any book can do this, because it is the reader’s interpretation.

    The larger statement here is that each of us has in us, the power to make our own path just the way we want it, if only we let go. To quote, “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours”