What would Gandhi do?

 Vijayadashami and Gandhi Jayanti falling on the same date must have some cosmic significance, especially for those of us who would like to be useful in the world!

Coincidentally, I finished reading Krishna Kumar's wonderful novel, "Thank you, Gandhi" yesterday. As a person who aspires to be a peace educator, Professor Krishna Kumar is an educationist whose writing and views I have long sought out. This book is a departure from what I have read of his work and it was a wonderful surprise.

Assailed with all the disappointments and anxieties engendered by the world we now live in, he does not rant. Artfully, he uses fiction to say the things many of us would like to say. The device he uses is so simple that reviewers have assumes he is writing about himself and his friend--and perhaps this is the case--but that is arguably just their assumption. 

The protagonist is left a series of files written by his childhood friend who has died, asking that he complete this book project. The notes themselves are reflections on a changing India written by a bureaucrat who has served over decades of rapid change. This friend sees the change, as many of us do, as being a deterioration in values and political culture, barely mitigated by an even-handed improvement in quality of life. He reads about Gandhi and he reads Gandhi and he converses with Gandhi to try and make sense of this world. 

The Union Carbide factory leak looms large because the friend was an MP IAS officer and served in Bhopal in the relief work at the time. But his notes also mention the epidemics of caste-based killings, gang-rapes and lynchings that go unheeded. 

I found it very difficult to read at a stretch the first 40-50 pages, which are the protagonist's contextual account. We might say the prose is triggering; more precisely, it was actually both gut-wrenching and a relief to find that someone had written down words that we now find ever-harder to utter. We are surrounded by sycophantic commentary, self-congratulatory self-promotion and lies. No one seems to remember history. Hardly anyone is able to ask questions. Some who do are punished for it. Others are barely heard. It was so hard to see all the things that I feel written down and printed. Even as I read, I felt fear for the author. 

But the use of fiction blunts the sharp edge just enough as the book oscillates gently between reminiscence, relatively distant history (which actually is not that remote, given the public health impact of the Bhopal gas leak lingers) and biting comment on our times. 

The discussion of Gandhi's ideas, Gandhi's relevance and the conversations with Gandhi take forward in some ways what my cousin Niranjan Ramakrishnan wrote about in his book, "Reading Gandhi in the 21st Century" and what Rajmohan Gandhi writes about, especially in "Why Gandhi Matters." For most of us who grew up during or in the shadow of the Gandhi-Nehru era, this moment is especially baffling and it is challenging to find ways to be and act that feel true. This part of the book spoke to me less than the rest and I think it is because there were so many parallel conversations underway in my head. Perhaps I will come back to this at another time. 

Page 37

The book works the way I have always imagined that many of Professor Krishna Kumar's classes do--starting with the idea of the journey he wants to facilitate, raising questions, reflecting honestly, enabling a variety of perspectives to be explored and articulated and not necessarily with a pat conclusion. Learning is a journey. Political action is a journey. And both can be done creatively. I will just close by saying, "Thank you for writing this book!" 

Politics and fiction

The title for this post should probably be "Why I love fiction set in a political context."

I just put down Seema Goswami's 'Race Course Road.' I wanted to read it when she first posted about it, finally bought it last month, and picked it up during a sleepless spell the night before last, only to read it compulsively and finish it last night.

I read it playing the usual game one does with such novels, especially those set in India, asking, 'Now who is this supposed to be?' and 'Who is this character based on?' It is easy enough to guess but you realise that the answers do not make a difference to the simple but absorbing story, which is truly fiction. All the characters come alive, seem realistic, and you really want to know what is going to happen to all of them. It was just a really good storybook and I recommend it for weekend reading, holiday reading and definitely, reading on a really long flight. I mean, you can read it whenever you want, but best to read it when you can indulge without interruption--I found it hard to put down.

Seema Goswami's long years as a reporter show in all kinds of detailed references to the politics of the last twenty years, enriching the book.

I loved that the book tells a story, you can see Goswami's view on various issues (especially if you read her columns), but there is no hidden message. It is a clever book but it does not sit on a pedestal, pretending to dispense wisdom to lesser mortals--a problem I have with a great deal of contemporary Indian writing. People try too hard to impress and overload their stories with everything they know, layers of messages and too much else besides. In this book, the author brings a great deal of knowledge to her storytelling but the book is not about how brilliant she is--it is a book about the people whose story she is telling us. That has become a rare quality in this pretentious world we inhabit.

The only quibble I have with the book is the extremely tiny and light print--not the author's fault. But if you read it on a Kindle, and if the publishers produce an easy-to-read edition, I would say this is one of the most fun books I have read in the last year.

***

As I read 'Race Course Road,' I realised that I am very easily drawn into fiction--in any medium--that is set in a political context. I have binge watched 'Madam Secretary' earlier this year. I have 'Yes Minister' and 'Yes PM' bookmarked. I loved the political parts of the Jeffrey Archer's Clifton Chronicles (which I really enjoyed on the whole!). This context is what I really enjoy about Nayantara Sahgal's writing.

I want to acknowledge that a lot of other novels also merit the label 'political'. So maybe in the Indian context, what I mean is really a 'Lutyens' novel, to borrow a term from Goswami? Something that fictionalises Parliament, parties, elections and so on.

In real life, I am bored by television news discussions about politics, and despite wearing the political scientist tag on my bio, I tune out of everyday whosaidwhattowhom politics--the kind people seem to be enthralled by and for the first time in my life, I couldn't identify most political worthies in a line-up, even with a list of names in hand, without wild guesses. The politics of parties and netas really bores me. There, I said it.

Happily, fiction of any sort uses filters. Boring things get ignored and better still, in the best work, as much is left unsaid as is recorded. Unfortunately, this is not true in the real world. Politicians and even more, political experts, appear to be the most verbose creatures on earth. Where novels and television series cut to the chase, in seminars and interviews, people are hard to stop.

Truth, the saying goes, is stranger than fiction. The real world of politics has long crossed from 'strange' into bizarre, grotesque and evil. So in work like 'Race Course Road' and 'When the Moon Shines by Day' (Nayantara Sahgal), even the worst things people do, still seem not as bad as reality.

In the real world, there are unmanageable consequences for incompetence and evil, which are contained in fiction. You know, that as horrendous as someone's actions or acts of omission are, their consequences will be limited to the page and their comeuppance is imminent before the end of the novel. I don't need to feel anxious about that world. On American television fiction, there is a consistent triumph of idealism that is quite comforting. Take the President in 'The West Wing': there were moments in which one really wanted to vote for him. Moments, but they were there.

Fiction offers idealists like me a larger selection of good people. I know, I know, that's a horribly cynical thing for me to write, unworthy of a Piscean. But it's true. Who on a television newscast makes you feel as hopeful as a fictional character, even for five minutes?

Reading 'Race Course Road' made me want to read another novel like this immediately. I hope the author is working on one!

Murders in Mumbai

The book review cum gift recommendation I am about to write will not be a patch on the three books I am about to discuss.

It seems to be that every month some friend or professional acquaintance publishes a book and there are a slew of book launches, most of which I do not attend. Many of these books are what we used to call 'reference books'--academic books you read when you need to for your work. Some are non-fiction, the kind it's nice to pose with on social media. And a very small number are immediately inviting, as fiction.

It does not matter that these three books are by people I know to varying degrees. Indeed, sometimes that is a deterrent because you hear that person's voice read the book out to you and it can be painful. You also spend time guessing why they wrote what they wrote and that is a distraction. There is so much pressure to love the book and express that love on social media that it is hard to feel the love without performance anxiety.

For a person who talks about non-violence and peace, you may be surprised to learn how fond I am of murder mysteries. Of course, I do not read books that describe the murder in detail and I am spooked by books that delve into dark, psychological depths. I do not really know about this stuff and honestly, I don't care. What I enjoy immensely in a good murder are the character profiles that are built up as the detective (or detectives) talk to the suspects and I love the final denouement of what happened and how they figured it out.

It does not matter that these are Bombay books--no matter what you call the city. These stories could not have happened anywhere else. These characters could not have been from any other city. And yet, they could. There is also something universal about the stories--and I don't mean that in the pretentious way that some contemporary writers make everything about the world's pressing problems. I just mean, you have met people in these books somewhere in your own life--even if you live outside Bombay.

I am writing about them because I loved them and I think you might too. I also think they would make a great summer reading gift--I can see the three, stacked and tied together with a ribbon, or being pulled out eagerly from a gift bag. And then being consumed with pleasure.

First, I read "A Meeting on the Andheri Overbridge" by CS Lakshmi 'Ambai'. This is a collection of three short stories, all of which feature Sudha Gupta, a private detective. The stories were translated from the Tamil by Gita Subramaniam but they read so well in English--with all the Hindi and Marathi intact--that you do not realise they were not originally written in the language.

I will not tell you what the stories are about. They are feminist stories, for sure, but they wear their politics casually and in a way that makes you understand feminism is really about human struggles for freedom (from violence) and equality (of choice). Sudha Gupta's investigations are humane and diplomatic, and the stories are filled with light like the January sun and the breeze that comes through your auto as you drive past Juhu beach. You finish the third story with disappointment--what, she just wrote three, how could she stop here? A megacity holds a myriad stories, each waiting for Ambai's pen.

The second book I read was Jerry Pinto's "Murder in Mahim." I had not read his award-winning first novel because it seemed to require a commitment of seriousness from me that I am rarely able to make outside my work. (I feel the same way about Aamir Khan films.) But surely, a murder mystery is a light read? "Light" may not now be the word I use to describe Jerry's book, but "beautiful," "exquisitely written with a great loving heart" and "very moving" would be.

"Murder in Mahim" has the admirable quality that I find in Rohinton Mistry's books--I can smell the city. And much as I love Bombay, let's face it, fragrance is not one of its strong suits. But starting from the station loo where the story begins to the mixed odours of the breeze near Shivaji Park to the cooking smells of the housing societies visited in the book, you can smell the city in this book and so you are there.

I loved the characters--perhaps because I have met them before, a little of this person, a little of that. Everyone speaks at length but interestingly--which is a departure from real life and one that is welcome! The small details draw you into the world of the book and hold you there. The one that comes to mind as I write this is the discussion over the glasses and tableware that should be used for a visitor. The menu then is a discussion of how the fish (or was it chicken?) was used--some for pre-dinner snacks, some to be served with dinner. You have to have been very, very observant to write like this--to have absorbed every minute aspect of the world around you and people over a lifetime--to be able to recreate them in this way. Don't misunderstand--there is no ostentatious "look at me," "I am such a great literary artist" presence here. As in life, so in this book, the miniature artistry is just there--enjoy it if it is to your taste or else just use it to soak in the plot.

The plot is also quite complicated and you want to push, push, push through to the end to find out who did what and why. The journey takes you everywhere in Bombay and for someone like me, reintroduces familiar places with new stories. The story is actually so intense I could not read this book at night--life, like this, would be a nightmare. And yet, there is so much warmth in the writing and so much fight in each character, that at the end, this is an uplifting book.

Having said all this, I really do not do the writing justice.

The last of the three books is Aditya Sinha's 'The CEO who lost his head.' This book is so much fun! I have chuckled over the author's political columns and was delighted to see the same irreverent style here--in the characters' names, in their interactions, in the dialogue--and to see the real world in walk-on parts through the book. The allusions do not stop at front-page politics and security events but the book also makes room for the gender politics of the city, the workplace and the home in significant ways.

This is less of a Bombay book than the others--in that the city itself features less here than it does in the others, but it is a Bombay newspaper universe book! I chuckled over the main characters and relished the mystery plot, but equally I must confess I enjoyed guessing who-was-whom throughout the book.

I would be very disappointed if this were the only murder mystery--or only novel--Aditya Sinha wrote.

The three books together bring alive the nine rasas within one genre--murder. There is love, lust, beauty, laughter, grief, anger, courage, fear, disgust, wonder through all these three books, and shanta rasa--peace--comes when the mysteries are solve--but not entirely. And how have we managed so far without detectives or detectives of our own--Sudha Gupta, Jende and D'Souza and Solvekar and Ramteke... welcome to our world!

But forget all my words--I only write them for the pleasure that process brings me. Just get the books and get to the words that Ambai, Pinto and Sinha wrote!

Eager readers, reluctant detectives and Bombay life

I don't know Kiran Manral except on Twitter, but if you're on Twitter, it's easy to imagine you know a complete stranger. I bought this book out of interest, curiosity and loyalty, and waited two weeks to be able to sit down and enjoy it without guilt.

First piece of news: the voice of Kanan Mehra is not the voice of Kiran Manral on Twitter. It's far more breathless for starters and her mind wanders. Sometimes it wanders so far, you forget this is a murder mystery. Kanan Mehra exhausted me. So first off, congratulations Kiran for writing about someone who sounds completely unlike you do. I think that takes courage, imagination and a very, very keen eye.

Another surprise for someone who usually reads Kiran Manral in 140 character installments is that her way with similes and metaphors is exuberant and extravagant. The novel is strewn with them, rather like protagonist Kay's bedroom when she is choosing clothes for an outing. The profusion is striking at first, but gets overwhelming after a while. Nevertheless, it is consistent with the protagonist we are meeting here. Why would Kiran ask me for advice? No reason at all. But if she did, I would remind her that it is hard to enjoy an embarrassment of riches.

I enjoyed the depiction of 'society' (as in housing cooperative society) life very much. If you have lived in Bombay, and lived in a building with a buzzing society (inevitably), you will find many familiar faces. It's a particular universe that I want to suggest is unique to Bombay, combining the anonymity of big cities (the reluctant detective barely knows her murdered neighbour) with the social norms of a small town 'colony' that has grown around a company's factory (being particular about condolence calls). 

I am not sure why this book is being marketed as a murder mystery. What it does is paint the portrait of a particular kind of lifestyle and people who live in a particular kind of community. The murder is almost just a hook--a reason to show us how people call each other, share news, etc.--and I wonder if Kiran Manral was as reluctant to have this label attached as Kanan Mehra is to do detective work. In this, "The Reluctant Detective" is a lot like the Precious Ramotswe books (which I love) where the detective work is almost an excuse to introduce us to life and manners in Botswana.

If this is to be the first of many Kanan Mehra books, I can see that they have the potential to gently and humorously document a world which is quirky and full of people we might know. Maybe they don't need to unnecessarily kill people off for that to happen.

So buy this book and read it. It's the perfect journey read, or evening read on that work trip where you just want quiet time with a book after talking all day, or for a person who has just finished taking demanding entrance exams.

Thank you, Kiran, and I hope you will keep them coming! 

Personal is political is personal is political is...: Review

I have been following V.V.Ganeshananthan on Twitter for a long time (@Vasugi) but did not know anything about her. Then somewhere, probably on Twitter, I heard she'd published a novel. I was curious but because South Asian diaspora novels have become so common, was not terribly interested. Then, the other day, I saw her book in Landmark and thought, "Oh, why not?" My scepticism was underscored by the very small print of the edition I bought.

It's a good book, folks! You should read it. And this is why.

The protagonist is a young Sri Lankan-American and as the book unfolds, she learns about the country her parents (Tamil) have left behind. Yes, like most of us, she knows what happened, when it happened, in a textbook sort of way, and being a Sri Lankan Tamil, she has seen graphic pamphlets and heard bits of stories. But what she learns as the book unfolds is what most of us never have a chance to do: to put face to headline, to put feeling into choice, to see the inevitability that personal relationships will have political dimensions. To see it all together.

Ganeshananthan braids two strands--the interior, familial, personal one of marriage and the exterior, communal, political one of conflict--into one young woman's journey of seeing. The story of each marriage is a gem in itself, complete, stand-alone. I want to share with you a passage that I found very moving and particularly memorable (page 114):

"...Then he hit her across the cheekbone, and Harini's mouth flooded with blood.

      This is the taste of a Marriage Dying, her Heart said. Harini had swallowed everything, all her life. Her spinster sister Mayuri's jealousy of a Marriage that had happened too neatly. Her mother's quiet disapproval. Her own self-imposed status as a perpetual shadow. Harini swallowed again, swallowed air and blood. Her beating Heart had grown pulpy and old with abuse. 

     But Harini bent double, bent down. She picked up her Go-On Forever Smile from where it had fallen on the ground, and went on."

As the protagonist's family nurses her uncle, a Tiger who's been allowed to get away because he is dying, old stories are finally told, and new ones too. In that community in Toronto, she discovers just how personal politics is: the Tigers have chosen her cousin's future husband. And she discovers that personal ties cross political lines as well.

This is a book lots of people should read. First, those who are looking for a good story, well-written should definitely read this. Second, those who are interested in Sri Lankan politics, will begin to glimpse the things that textbooks don't record about why people make the choices they do. Finally, those interested in conflict should read this because it illustrates how much more complicated conflict resolution is than textbooks would suggest; there are no templates because the human Heart (to continue the author's usage!) doesn't read them.

I will finish by noting that the author teaches English at the University of Michigan, and was teaching a course on political fiction last year. This would be a great book to assign as recommended reading for courses dealing with issues like conflict or migration or in South Asian Studies.

V.V.Ganeshananthan, Love Marriage, Orion Books, 2008.

Discovering the Mary Westmacott books

Thanks to new Rs. 150/- editions and my sister leaving behind a couple of Agatha Christies on her last trip, I have been reminded of how wonderfully she wrote. It's now well over twenty-five years since I first discovered and drank them in. I have occasionally found an unread book or re-read favourites, but between excellent writing, a decent memory and cinematic adaptations, had stopped, thinking I would remember them too well to enjoy another reading.

Not true.

And yesterday, I bought "Giant's Bread," one of the novels she wrote under the pseudonym, Mary Westmacott. I have long hesitated to pick these up. What if they are boring?

Let me tell you: "Giant's Bread" is unputdownable! Set over a couple of decades between the Boer War and the First World War, the characterization and plot are amazingly contemporary. It's only the references to specific locations and events that remind you that this is not a story about the last two decades (and yes, the absence of email and cell-phones!).

I want especially to highlight the section where Christie/Westmacott writes from the perspective of a small boy. It's brilliant. There's no trace of the well-traveled, world-feted novelist there: just a little boy, who is afraid of grand pianos and has imaginary friends.


If you are looking for a fun read for a summer evening, try "Giant's Bread." Now, I must earn the time-off to read the first volume of the Ariadne Oliver omnibus!