Shreekumar Varma
I’m still not sure whether I could ever describe Goa as languid, despite siestas and feni, but this book did make me consider that possibility, and for that, Shreekumar Varma’s way with words can take credit.
The protagonist, Raja Prasad, an author from Chennai, reaches a Goa that seems to echo his own ‘broken down’ self. The sun takes an extended break as rains lash Goa, and the narrative alternates between the introspective author, willing himself to break from his past and his concerned/nagging father, and work on his new book, and his observations of life, people and places. Its in these initial sections that we see a Goa that’s rarely captured – heavy rains instead of sun and sand, decrepit hotels replacing swanky resorts and a local life relatively less centered around tourists.
We then seem Raja get acquainted with another guest in the resort – Fritz, and later shifting to “Maria’s Guesthouse”, where he falls in love with Lorna, and gets interested in the story of Maria, the girl’s aunt, after whom the guesthouse is named. As Raja’s romance progresses and he follows the mystery of Maria’s life, and death, it seems as though the two stories are just different in rendition.
What didn’t work for me was the inconsistent pace of the plot and a narrative in which we’re forced to follow the extended wanderings of the protagonist without facts that would indicate a plot in progression. There’s a limit to what descriptive prose can do to stretch curiosity.
However, the book itself is a bit like Goa in pace, if you can get adjusted to it, you will perhaps begin to like it. Even the deluge of ‘loop closing’ in the end is a bit like you’ve been idling and suddenly realised that there are some places to see and things to be done before you bid Goa goodbye.
I got the feeling that the author enjoyed giving Raja Prasad the freedom to carry the plot at his own pace and create his own subtext that some readers would enjoy.