I have just finished reading yet another of those "novels" I keep lugging about and have to show the cover to the aah-so-interested people in my day. Usually this interest last only as long as to see that the very heavy book I'm
soo engrossed in, is not the latest harry potter/
eragon/
dan brown/ bullshit, and thus is returned to me without further comment. During my love affair with Seth's
magnus opus A suitable boy, I lost count of the number of people who tried to pull the same joke off " Oh! are you finding a suitable boy for yourself?" ha ha . Fact of the matter is that today's generation of non-readers and their kin, whose entire literary column extends to three or four very famous books/authors are oblivious to the entire joyousness of the good Ole experience of reading a book, the entire span of the days when you live the characters, laugh at their experiences and mourn with them at their misfortunes. Nowadays it is more of a race, so as to say, to read the newest best seller, lest anyone should let the cat out of the bag.
I, when I was younger, steered clear of Indian authors. For me, what they wrote was too close to home. If I read a book, I wanted to be lost in the English scones and the Californian sun. So I read up the usual "English Fiction" stuff... Archer, Sheldon,
Follet (my
fav!),
Grisham (whom I still can't read)...
But how long can anyone read a book with the usual half a dozen murders, a couple of illicit romances, and the everyday million dollars of embezzlement?
And that is when I found A Suitable Boy. I know I sound like i can kiss the earth
Vikram Seth walks on, but honestly, this book changed the way I read. My choice of books and thus, a large and significant part of my life. A good book stays with you, and I usually re-read my favourites, but this one book is one I don't want to, for the simple reason that if you were to return to a long lost lover, they would always dull when compared to the memory you had of them . The affair would seem far more glamorous than it was actually, and the second acquaintance, would thus diminish the joy of your first one.
So, anyways, my experience with my first Indian author encouraged me to read more. and that is how i chose Mr
Rohinton Mistry, Family Matters. I remember the same feeling enveloped me the last time i read him as is now while reading A fine balance.
The thing about reading any of his works, is that the characters begin to grow on you. You pray that no more misfortunes land up on the poor things, for you would most definitely be heart broken. You rejoice in the small breaks God ( in this case the author) bestows upon them.
Mistry has this annoying habit of making an indifferent character
likeable, and then killing him off just when you really like him. There is something perverse about the way he kills them off, like flies dropping dead. Maybe I have read such sheltered literature,that such stark brutality left me quite speechless. The whole concept of "happy endings" is obliterated in his brand of writing.
In "A fine balance", more specifically, the story revolves around four central characters. Dina
Dalal, the beautiful and headstrong landlady,
Maneck- her teenage PG and an immensely
likeable and thoughtful boy,
Ishwar the sweet-tempered tailor and
Omprakash- his hotheaded nephew. It is a tale which starts from the day these four characters meet and paces back and forth, tracing their entire lives and histories to the very day. Thus begins a year in their life, full of so many ups and mainly downs. It is a poignant tale, leaving you quite depressed at some of the things that happen. When Dina
Dalal's heart finally begins to melt towards the tailors, I found myself praying that Mr
Mistry keeps it that ways. But in the end, I felt that in an attempt to wind up ALL the loose ends, the author has decided a common fate for all, except three, and that is, a grisly death. And the one person who actually deserved it,
Thakur Dhamsali, is the only one who keeps appearing in the poor tailors life, periodically, and (to put it rather colloquially), keeps screwing up their plans.
The last chapter has been written, probably when the author realised that he is,
in fact quite capable of twisting the hearts of his readers. It has been spun in such a way that he was probably tired of them all, and has in his fatigue resigned them horrible fates including beggary and sudden unthinking death.
That is what I
didn't quite like about the book. The rest of the book is written so marvellously, true to his usual style. But I
don't know why his characters are always P
arsi, and settled in southern
Bombay. Maybe its because he prefers to stick to areas that must be familiar to him.
It is impossible to have read his book and not have come out feeling moved. Either depressed, helpless, or happy, because
you have also lived the characters.
Another VERY surprising fact is that the book was Oprah's book club choice for 2002. Now i would not have expected that out of the perfectly made up, pastel dressed women who work for Oprah!
But again, like my usual favourites, I will not be recommending this book to anyone. I HATE them not understanding it, and then acting foolishly and telling me "HOW depressing! you have such a morbid taste in art!"
