ForeWar(n)ed: I hate Salman Rushdie! So, what's new, eh? So did Mr Khomeini and a host of his cronies! My hate is different! I hate him purely because he can't say things simply, without sentences which could be used as double bedsheets and words that run longer than a simple sentence! So, when Rushdie says "She is a Terrific Writer", I run! But while I ran, I tripped. And fell! Here's how and why!
Basics: 324 pages and 53 Chapters, Times Roman, Penguin, MRP INR 495. The author is Kiran Desai, whose main fame has been being daughter of famed author-mom, Anita Desai. Her mug adorns the rear (cover), but isn’t much to look at, unless PT Usha is your idea of feminine lure! The cover is blue and bland, unlikely to excite anyone except the author and her mom!
In:The book opens with the usual unheard-of quotes in English by some noble soul, and of course, ‘thanks to my mother with so much love’. That is, if you don’t count the inside front cover trying to piece together the whole story a la Perry Mason, in the end, leaving the reader with a confused look and rethink of intentions. The last bit falls flat – “This majestic novel.. blah blah.. every moment holding out the possibility of hope or betrayal..” Is this M&B or Chase?! “Consequences of colonialism and global conflicts of religion, race and nationalism”.. Aah! Excitement galore!
Eyes turn to page one with doubt. Depression begins to set in. Sai (girl or boy?) reads a NatGeo, occasionally looking out at Kanchenjunga (not a friendly Bengali, but the mountain). The judge sits at a far corner, playing chess with.. himself! Mutt, the dog, snoring gently in her sleep! The cook in the cavernous kitchen, trying to light the damp wood! ..
“Megs, I know why you gifted this book to me! Take it back, I will pay for one whole lunch!” I decide that the least I’ll do is review this bore and yes, Thank Megs! The first 3 pages almost teach you how the cook makes tea. Despite best thoughts on unbiased reading, the mind refuses to spend more time gluing eyes to such boredom. But then, on a dark winter day traversing on rail through Tundra ice, with the other 3 occupants in the coupe sleeping, there isn’t much hope for a reader! Return to the Torture!
So it goes, for the first 20-odd pages. Thankfully, the initial obsession with complex descriptions doesn’t get worse. In fact, with some time, an embryo of a story seems to lurk somewhere at the back! (God! The Desai lingo is getting into me too!)
Simblicity: One needs to give credit where it is due. Names in this book are either Enid Blyton (Uncle Potty, Father Booty) or simbly simble (Biju – rolling stone son of cook and fly on the US wall; Sai – leading lady light and fly on the Indian wall; Gyan – romantic link of lead, also tutor and part GNLF; Noni & Lola – UK worshipping sisters who even import their underwear; Mrs Sen – Yank lover with lass being chased by CNN (yeah!) to “pleeease take a Green Card”; Mutt – spoilt dog whose tail feels at home between the legs; Saeed Saeed - Tanzanian basement-mate of Biju in US, with a way with women and ‘pokey pokey’ interests all around town and finally, Cho Oyu –the house in Darjeeling inhabited by the judge (Jemubhai – owner of the most complex name and personality in the whole book), Sai, Mutt and the cook (in that order) around where one half of the book is based.
Cons first! It drags at times, it tests the patience of the reader, with descriptions sometimes reading like essays of a school boy out to fill the 500 words with not a clue about the subject! At times, the author downright ridicules the reader’s intellect, whether she is trying a Arundhati-esque “book shaped h.ole in the universe” remains a doubt! The script wavers between simple, questioning, comical, sarcastic, cute and gross (a love sequence between the judge and his hated wife could put many gross sites to naked shame!).
Reco: READ IT! Not a prized possession, so try to borrow it! Or, have it gifted!
Doubt: Madness, or is it revenge, behind such a reco, after such an introduction?!
My Case: I started with hate, disgust and such feelings, which is generally reserved for NRI authors spewing about our land, while staying far enough not to be affected by its ‘oh-so-lovely’ crowds and ‘sweet smell of home’ stinks. But, somewhere along the way, the content caught my mind by its ears and slapped it hard. Yes! The Inheritance of Loss is about
… contemporary India in the times of GNLF, Rajiv and factionalism, based part in Darjeeling and Kalimpong, part in US.
…. the rampant unemployment, that leads to exodus of qualified and unqualified manpower away from rural lands, to cities in and outside India.
.… the after effect that the British has left among us in the form of people and habits.
… the longing of the lower downs to reach higher up, and when they are higher up, to get to some place they themselves know not where.
… the mirage that the US of A continues to be, for a large section of the Indian populace.
… the pits to which most folks would go to, in the quest for a Visa to the US of A!
… the snarls of outright and not-so-outright racism that an Indian weaves through in daily life abroad.
… the underbelly of poverty and struggle that line the lives of illegal immigrants in the so-called cities of plenty.
… the solitude of a child without parents, a child in a strict convent boarding school, a child torn apart between curiosity and the need for silence.
… the fragrance of first love and its rush of blood, unmindful of consequence, class and creed.
… the effect that evil deeds continue to have on human minds, long after the deeds are done and the ashes interred.
… the double-lives and hypocrisy that exist in society where you and I live, and in which all of us thrive at some time or the other, if not always.
… noticing the small things in life which go unnoticed in the daily run and grind of modern life.
… an India that we all know, as also an India we all would love not to.
… Indians that we all know and Indians that we would rather wish away.
Inheritance or Loss?: If you are on a long journey, have time on your hands or/ and don’t mind a peep at some true faces of lives – own as well as others’, or if you are fond of reading about cold eyes and warm hearts (or vice versa, depending on the times and people), pick it up. It is not a compulsive page-turner, but it is hard not to complete. Occasional receipts of the author’s doses of sarcasm straight to the reader’s heart are not unnatural! If you are the kind to shy away from reading, or if you lack the time, go watch TZP! If you hate sorrow in any form, then of course, go read Sudipto’s or FE’s reviews!
And if this helped make up your mind or opened a window into this book, please say so! And if you think otherwise, certainly do let the steam out in the comments section!
Thank You Megs, for this book. I would not have bought it, but now would love to keep it!
My Inheritance, Your Loss! But Kiran Desai makes the money, either way! ♠
