The Gypsy Goddess by Meena Kandasamy/ Harper Collins India

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

In the middle pages of the narrative of the novel, we have a list. A description of the dead bodies who were massacred by a police inspector: burnt alive by the Caste-Hindu Landlords of Kilvenmani. It is a chilling few pages in the novel. Trust me, nothing within the earlier pages where the novelist is preparing us for the story, telling us the impossibility of telling such a story, and also giving us the background of the massacre where both the political ideologies or class/caste ideologies represented with two pamphlets will prepare you for this. Till now, you may have dissected, interpreted, got irritated, got provoked, itching, scratching your head, thinking hard to make sense (as you have no idea about what actually happened), making some sense (of the historical details given) a few times, gasping, yawning (not me), being impressed with the techniques/ anti-techniques, narrative style/anti-narrative style, novel/anti-novel, modernism/postmodernism, political commitment, research, thesis/ anti-thesis and all other things. But trust me, you are not prepared for this graphic detail. An absolutely emotionless detail. You come to know there were 44 of them. You come to know most of them were women and children. You come to know how those bodies, burnt, were sometimes so unrecognizable that their identities (name, sex, house, but not caste or village or specie) get dissolved. As if you’ve been hit with a brick. As if you now start watching things with your eyes wide open(no more yawning in between or doing technical studies of narratives, especially when you've been thinking about writing a review, your first ever review) Here, when are craving for realism, when it’s too real, you won't be able take it.

The next couple of chapters are in reverse, like Gasper Noe’s Irreversible, and yes the facts/images/smells/sounds are even more startling than that skull smashing scene in the beginning of the movie. Next Chapter: Someone, probably someone young, running to save his life (short sentences, breathlessness).  The next one, has the account of the massacre, where 44 people were burnt, locked inside a hut. (no commas, full stops, no time for taking a breath, as if the novelist has a handy cam and she is capturing those images, without a break). And then the trial, the usual denial of justice and a violent ending (Can't tell you everything)

Since it’s a novel (it is hard to describe it as something else, or maybe we can call it a tragedy, an epic tragedy, a novel with tragedy of epic proportion) you are searching for a single micro narrative, an isolated case study, a minute description of what happened to the old woman in the beginning. You’ll be disappointed if you want that story. The judges in the courts in the novel too wanted such a narrative.

“Perhaps he wanted a single story: uniform, end to end to end. The “Once upon a time, there lived an old woman in a tiny village” story. Sadly, we are not able to tell such a story. A story told in many voices seems unreliable.”

How can you tell one story when so many people got affected? And is this just the story of Kilvenamni? Probably not. Although the Kilvenmani story (in the novel at least) is resolved temporarily, but it’s also the story of other such massacres, the Bathani tola’s, the Lakshmanpur Bathe’s or even the Ramabai Colony’s (it’s ironical that we have to use the word story here, even when we are telling you a fact, because when someone narrates a fact, it automatically becomes a story, hence unreliable and the impossibility of telling a factual story stems from that)

What’s also refreshing to see is that the novelist is not shying away from revealing her political commitment to communism, and that commitment is not just reflected in the narrative, but also in the narrative style. ‘We’ is the protagonist of the novel, in this sense we can call it a proletarian narrative. Although there are a few individuals too like Maayi, but it’s not your regular single hero blockbuster. The villain, however, is cinematically represented, and the horror that we are going to deal with in the future pages becomes believable.

The preparation of the reader for the future events, where the novelist is trying to figure out, what is the best way to tell the story, also works as an alienating effect (see, I know Brecht) This alienation stops us from being emotional about the story, to cry, and get purged and forget about it after the reading. That is not going to happen to you. Although you won’t do the things that the novelist suggested, but still, you’ll be disturbed (at least for a while) you’ll try to find out the facts (though there is hardly enough material on the net) This probably will be the only properly written thing (though the novelist will disagree) that you’ll be reading about the massacre. Though there are a few non-fictional accounts about which the writer herself talks about.

As a first time reviewer (I don’t know if it’s a review, since I haven’t written one before and also the fact that you can’t really write of something like this as I have never been subjected to such a violence, being from a certain caste/class/educational background, but still, for convenience sake) I would recommend (strongly) to read the novel and to try and discover more. You can’t feel the pain (don’t even try to pretend) but at least be aware that something like this has actually happened. Do grab a copy. I heard that the paperback is out (buy a hardcover version though, the words will remain secured inside it) Keep that story of those Gypsy Goddess (seven or seventeen) and their children who were burnt with them, in the hard disk of your memory.

About the Novelist

Meena Kandasamy is a poet, writer, activist and translator. Her work maintains a focus on caste annihilation, linguistic identity and feminism. She has published two collections of poetry, Touch (2006) and Ms Militancy (2010). Her first novel, The Gypsy Goddess was published by Atlantic Books (UK) and HarperCollins India in 2014.

She was a British Council - Charles Wallace India Trust Fellow at the University of Kent and a Visiting Fellow at Newcastle University in 2011. In 2009, she was a writer-in-residence at the University of Iowa’s International Writing Program (IWP). She has held writing residencies at the Hong Kong Baptist University, Jawaharlal Nehru University (New Delhi) and the University of Hyderabad.

She has co-authored (with M Nisar) a biography of Kerala’s foremost Dalit revolutionary Ayyankali, and previously, she edited ‘The Dalit’, a bi-monthly English magazine. She holds a PhD in socio-linguistics from Anna University Chennai, and dabbles in political & literary translation.

- Reviewed by Prabhat Jha

Prabhat Jha is a Research Scholar in Patna University. 

He often writes poetry, plays and short stories. 

Apart from English he also writes 
and translates from Maithili and Hindi.

Email: prabhat.jha087@gmail.com

मैं साक्षी... यह धरती की - लता तेजेश्वर

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

लता तेजेश्वर एक उभरती हुई रचनाकार हैं। इनकी लेखनी की सबसे बड़ी खासियत यह है की वे हिंदी भाषी नहीं होते हुए भी हिंदी में कविताएँ, उपन्यास आदि सृजन करती है। इनकी अनेक काव्य कृतियाँ छप चुकी हैं। अभी हाल ही में ही भूटान में इनकी लिखी उपन्यास 'हवेली' का लोकार्पण हुआ।

                

इनकी काव्य संग्रह "मैं साक्षी... यह धरती की" मुझे समीक्षार्थ मिली। इस संग्रह में नई कविताओं की एक ऐसी गुलदस्ता है, जिसमें जीवन के अनेक रंग समाहित है। प्रत्येक गुल की अपनी ही दास्तान है, अपना ही रंग है जो कविता प्रेमी हॄदय को पुष्पित कर देता है।

               

कोई कविता प्यार के रंगों से भरपूर है तो कहीं इनकी कविता में जीवन की सच्चाई का वर्णन है तो कहीं नारी अंतर्मन तथा शोषण की दास्तान हैं। इस संग्रह की सारी कविताएँ इंसानी जिंदगी के विभिन्न रंगों से हमें परिचित करवाती है। खास कर इस संग्रह की भूमिका "मैं साक्षी... यह धरती की" जिसमें इन्होंने धरती के बनने के समय से लेकर आज तक की तकलीफ़ को धरती और अपने बीच तादात्मय स्थापित करते हुए एक सूत्रधार की तरह ऐसे परिभाषित किया है जैसे की मानों धरती के साथ हुए हर घटनाओं की वह गवाह है/साक्षी है। यह इनकी गहरी सोच का परिचय है। सच, एक नारी ही धरती की पीड़ा को समझ सकती है। इसलिए नारी की तुलना सदैव धरती से की गयी है। जिस प्रकार धरती मूक हो कर अपने व्यथा को सहती है, जिसे उसने अन्न, जल, शुद्ध हवा दी वही मनुष्य धरती को आज विनाश के कगार पर खड़ा कर चुका है। उसी प्रकार स्त्री भी अपनों के दिए हुए दुःख और तकलीफ झेलती है। कभी स्त्री के अस्तित्व का प्रश्न तो कभी उसके साथ यौन शोषण, तो कभी उसे जन्म देने से पहले ही मिटा दिया जाता है। जैसे कि धरती अपने अंदर ज्वालामुखी को दबाए रखती है, औरत भी धरती की तरह अपने अंदर अपमान के ज्वालामुखी को सहती रहती है। धरती तो फिर भी अपने अंदर के ज्वालामुखी का विस्फोट कर कभी प्रलय तो कभी भूकंप के रूप में आती है। परंतु औरत तो हमेशा मूक ही रहती है और इसे ही अपना नियति मान लेती है।

              

लता तेजेश्वर जी के रचनाओं में कहीं जीवन मरण से जुड़े जटिल प्रश्न है तो कहीं कृष्ण की दीवानी राधा का प्रेम है। जबतक सृष्टि रहेगी राधा-कृष्ण का प्रेम लोगों के समक्ष एक उदहारण प्रस्तुत करते हुए यह कहता रहेगा कि प्रेम का अर्थ पाना नहीं त्याग है, बंधन नहीं मोक्ष है।

              

लताजी ने अपनी कविता "वेदना" में राधा के मन की व्यथा, कृष्ण के प्रेम की आकुलता तथा राधा के नयनों में कृष्णा की एक झलक देखने के लिए उनके प्रतीक्षा की पीड़ा को दर्शाया है। "वेदना" में राधा के प्रेम के उदगार तथा कृष्ण के कर्तव्य पालन छवि को दिखलाया गया है,-

                   "भौ कृष्ण, कबतक

                   तेरे आगमन को निहारूँ?

                       मन चितवन विचलित कर

                        गोपियों के संग रास रचाते

                        मुझे अपनी मानस पट से

                       दूर नहीं कर सकते।"

                 

वहीँ इनकी कविता "आत्मन" में जीवन मृत्यु जैसे विषय पर प्रश्न उठाया गया है। इसमें इंसान के मन में उठने वाले प्रश्नों को दर्शाया गया है। हर इंसान के मन में यह प्रश्न उठता है कि मैं कौन हूँ? जीवन क्या है? मरण क्या है? इंसान का अस्तित्व क्या है? इसी पर मनन किया गया है। इसमें कवयित्री ने "नचिकेता" की कथा को उदहारण स्वरूप लिया है। जिस प्रकार नचिकेता ने जन्म मरण के प्रश्नों को 'यम'' के समक्ष रखे थे वहीँ प्रश्न इनके मन में उभरते नज़र आते हैं।  

साहित्यकार का कार्य ही है नवीनता को तलाशना। आत्मन की इन पंक्तियों में मनुष्य के मन में उठने वाले प्रश्न हैं-

               "कभी मेरे मन में एक सवाल दस्तक दी थी।"

               " कहाँ से आती है जिन्दगी और कहाँ जाती है?"

               "हम कौन है?"

                "मैं कौन हूँ?"

                "मेरा अस्तित्व क्या है.. (पॄष्ठ-64)

सच यही है।  जीवन के इन्ही प्रश्नों का जवाब खोजते-खोजते इंसान की जिंदगी खत्म हो जाती है।

                  

इसके अलावे "तवायफ" "किताब" "आर्तनाद" जैसी कविताएँ भी दिल को छू लेती है। "आवारा मैं" कविता में एक "पॉलीथिन" की आत्मकथा उसके अपनी ही जुबानी कही गयी है। जो लेखिका के उच्चकोटि सोच के दौरान है।

                   "कहाँ से आया मैं..

                    कहाँ है जाना...

                   ना कोई मंजिल ना कोई ठिकाना।"

             

पॉलीथिन उन लावारिस बच्चों की तरह है जिसका कोई ठौर ना कोई ठिकाना है। माँ बाप की गलतियों का नतीजा, ये अनाथ बेसहारा बच्चे जिन्हें उनके माँ बाप अनाथ-आश्रम या गली नुक्कड़ में छोड़ जाते हैं। ये आवारा बच्चे इन आवारा पॉलीथिन के भाँति इधर उधर भटकते हैं। लताजी के कविता की यही खसियत है। "सवाल" में वे एक किसान की दयनीय स्थिती को दर्शाती हैं।  इसके अलावे "अनकही बातें" "साथी" "एहसास" दिल को छू लेने वाले कविता है। इनके काव्य की माला में एक से बढ़कर एक मोती हैं। इन मोतियों को कोई जौहरी ही परख सकता है।

              

आज के भागम-भाग वाले युग में जहां इंसान आगे बढ़ने की होड़ में लगा है, वहीँ अगर वह चन्द मिनट काव्य रास स्वादन में लगा दे तो अनेक समस्याओं का समाधान हो जाएगा।

              

लताजी की कविताएँ हमारे मन में उठने वाले काव्य प्यास को शांत करती है। जीवन से जुड़े हर प्रश्न का उन्होंने कविता के माध्यम से सुन्दर वर्णन किया है। अहिन्दी क्षेत्र की होते हुए भी उन्होंने हिंदी में कवितायेँ लिखकर हिंदी के मान को बढ़ाया है। वैसे भी हमारे हिंदी साहित्य में अनेक अहिन्दी क्षेत्र के लोगों ने काव्य, कहानियाँ तथा उपन्यास की रचना की है । हिंदी को आगे बढ़ाने में इनलोगों के अमूल्य योगदान को हमेशा सम्मान मिलेगा।  

 - संजू शरण | लेखिका

Film Review: To The Wonder

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

“Love makes us one. Two…one. I in you. You in me.”

Few days back, I was watching Hollywood Reporter’s The Full Director Roundtable with directors like Christopher Nolan, Richard Linklater, Mike Leigh, Bennett Miller, Morten Tyldum, and Angelina Jolie. While discussing about their movies and the subtlety and nuances of the art of capturing images, they all agreed with the fact that Terrence Mellick is one of the frontrunners and genius that knows the art of expressing through images better than anyone else. These candid talks and confessions of directors influenced me to revisit Terrence Mellick’s. Though his resume reads with movies like The Thin Red Line (1998), The Tree of Life (2011), and Days of Heaven (1978), which are visually spectacular and moving, I am more influenced by one of his least reckoned and appreciated movies, To The Wonder (2012), and that is what I intend to talk about in this review of mine. First of all, this movie is not at all for the ones who watch movies for entertainment, work in 9 to 5 job, come home exhausted, take out some time for leisure and wish to watch a movie for some serious fun. But those who love movies for movie sake; love to explore different facets of it being manifested through different and brave attempts, then this movie is definitely a no miss for you.

            The movie picks up the events from the life of its characters and expresses them before the audience. Now, when I say it expresses before the audience then it literally does that. The movie narrates the story of a man, Neil, a woman, Marina, and a priest, Father Quintana, not by explaining the events in their lives but by expressing them. You won’t even get to see the faces of the characters showing their emotions in most part of the movie. The camera just moves closer, circling around, following the rhythms of the bodies, scribbling the ode of love that this movie intends to be. This movie in some way is a marriage between silent and sound cinema, with subdued narration and excited movements overflowed with barrage of images to create a hypnotic vision of love that captures and transcends our bodies.

                                 The plot of the movie reads simple: Neil (Ben Affleck) finds a girl, Marina (Olga Kurylenko), who also happens to be a single mother, in his visit to France and both of them fall deeply in love with each other. Neil proposes Marina to move to Oklahoma with him. Marina along with her 10-year-old daughter, Tatiana, takes a leap of faith and moves into the States with him. Finding it hard to settle in a new locality, the feeling of loneliness starts creeping into Marina and Tatiana, and the tension starts surfacing in their relationship with Neil. Mariana finds solace into the preaching of Father Quintana, who himself is troubled with his quest of God and his inefficacy to feel his presence around him though he knows he is there somewhere.

                                 After spending quite some time, Marina feels the drift in Neil’s attention, ogling women’s bodies, and his cold and unwarranted reactions to her desperate attempts to seek for his love. Marina after the expiration of visa goes back to France, and for a brief span, Neil engages himself in a relationship with his childhood crush, Jane (Rachel McAdams). Marina though doesn’t find peace back in France and pleads Neil to help her come back in Oklahoma. The pair is reunited and gets married, but the bliss does not last for long again. In a moment of weakness, Marina commits the sin of adultery with Charlie, a carpenter, who had given her a wind harp. It seems that she has bore a child because of this encounter, and not being able to keep the guilt, she confesses it to Neil.

                                 Later in the movie we find Neil seeking Father Quintana’s guidance who helps him to understand that the bitterness of life can only be compensated through forgiveness. Finally, the couple departs from each other but on an optimistic note. Marina tells Neil that she wants to keep his name for the child. In the end we find random shots of Neil with what seems to be his family and Marina is somewhere in bliss, with her beauty being fused with the surroundings, transcending the ephemeral to eternal, being one with the peace and love she had been seeking from others all her life.

                                 Now, we have seen the same story, reiterated time and again on screen, and the plot of this movie suggests us to be no different. In fact again, the same story is executed with actors having angelic faces. What stands apart this movie is the treatment. The movie never explains the events but expresses them. It is like the memories (maybe of Terrence Mellick) flashing across the screen. The movie never tries to explain anything. Roger Ebert did his last movie review of his life on this movie, where he raised a question pertaining to the philosophical aspect of cinema, does a movie need to explain everything? He himself answers, No! Watching To The Wonder is like strolling along with Adam and Eve’s story again. Adam (Neil) loves Eve (Marina), but the purpose is lost. There is another Adam (Father Quintana) in the movie that seeks the lost purpose of life through love. The movie begins with Marina’s inquisition, “What is this that loves us, that comes from nowhere?” And ends with Father Quintana’s passionate call, “Christ, be with me. Christ before me. Christ behind me. Christ in me. Christ beneath me. Christ above me.”

                                 Martin Scorsese in a documentary of History of American Cinema said that there is not much of a difference when it comes to movies and going to church. Both have similarities in helping people seeking for some answers. Watching To The Wonder was one such experience for me. I know not many people will find it engrossing enough because of the lack of narration that we are used to, and I will not make an emphatic appeal to the readers to watch. But if you do so, it may not turn out to be a bad idea at all. Maybe you too will get some answers that you have been searching for long. Maybe you will get some peace as well. Maybe.

- Reviewed by Amar Singh 

The reviewer is currently acting as an Assistant Professor in English in Central University of Tibetan Studies, Varanasi. He is also pursuing his Research from Department of English, BHU, working with Professor Anita Singh on, “Hyperrealism and Christopher Nolan’s Cinematic Texts.”

                                  

Ishita Bhaduri's Internete Neel Akaash | Ekush Shatak, Kolkata

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

The eye-soothing azure and slate-blue sky with fleecing white clouds on the cover of this tab-sized book of poems in Bangla by Ishita Bhaduri, a well-known poet of the eighties from Kolkata, promises some tranquil good-reads within its covers. The gems that glisten from the depths of this book shows how adept Ishita Bhaduri is in maintaining crispness and freshness in her writings in Bangla, and her renowned capability of capturing thoughts and moments in just a handful of words.

There seems to be a glimpse of the Sky in most of her poems. The Sky is the Poet’s canvas where she writes and draws letters and alphabets. This is where ‘naked words dwell’ on her palms. She ‘creates them in a magical mystery’. She ‘lathers and bathes them, puts clothes on their body’, and then makes them ‘float in the moonlit river’ or ‘become rainbows in the sky’.

In this collection of poems the Poet has woven a fabric of individual poems where images, themes and frequent repetitive forms play along with each other in an intricate manner. And I believe readers will require reading the book as a whole for full appreciation, although at the same time I would definitely add that browsing randomly from one poem to another also brings in its own rewards.

Some poems portray the inexorable demands and pressures of an urban environment and the turmoil within oneself, as in the following -

Ekti bishonno jibon uthe elo shunyo theke

Nasto faler mato

(A mundane life rises upwards from the void

  Like a rotten fruit)

Or in …

Ghorir knataa chhutchhe, jeno ashwamedher ghoraa

Athacho jibon, hang hoye porey ache, dastolaar baaraandaaye

Sthir sthaanubot

(The clock sprints as if an Ashwamedha horse

While life…with its hung status lies on the tenth floor verandah

Inert unmoving)

And also in…

Vaan o vonitar chaadorey dhaakche samporko

Kuyaashaar moto.

(Relationships cover up under wraps of conceit and pretense

Like a sheet of fog)

The Poet lightly touches on what she sees and feels using all five senses. The writing is nuanced and the Poet accepts, at times with a weary resignation, the challenges of the ups and downs in relationships, as we see in the following lines-

Ei sab jadiguli atikrom

Kore uthi jadi

Tobei madhyaanye chandramaa,

Aar aporaanhye jogeshwari

(If I can overcome all these if’s

Then moonshine in the noon

And Raga Jogeshwari at sundown)

And…

Ei ghare kaaro upostithi ter pai ami

Shartobiheen aamaar sange thaake se saaraakkhan.

Dingote paari naa choukaath taai

Ei ghar chhere jete paari naa paap-ghare kono.

(I feel the presence of someone in this room

Who remains with me always unconditionally.

I cannot cross the threshold

And leave this room to enter the evil’s den)

And also …

Samporko sesh hoye gele

Andhokaari bnaache

Nirob raktopropaate

(When relationships end

Darkness remains

In silent bleeding waterfalls)

The Poet demonstrates divergent yet engaging writing styles in these gem-like poems. The present encounters the past and both reflect upon each other. One can imagine the Poet exploring with her eyes and her soul the varied intricacies and the pains of parting, separation and death. There is a lot of depth to the poems and I feel most readers would be impressed by the subtleties, as in-

Rajanigandhaar kaache nato, shapath niyechi aami

Tomaake aakaash debo, tulip debo protidin

Osthe tomaar gethe debo halud golaap.

(I bowed to the tuberose and vowed

I will give you the sky; I will gift you tulips everyday

I will set yellow roses on your lips)

Or …

Dik paribartan hoye jaachhe

Gantobyo sorey jaachhe

Haat duto dhorei aacho

Takhono.

(Directions change

Destinations shift

Your remain holding onto my hands

Still then…)

Ishita Bhaduri’s poetry is never blurred or indefinite. One finds a clear presentation of whatever the Poet wishes to convey. The simplicity and directness of speech, the beauty of the rhythms, individualistic freedom of ideas, effective use of poetic language and metaphors, the artful application of sound and meaningful words stimulate images similar to those produced by visual art.

Bolechhile baasor saajaabe naditeere

Brikkharopon utsabe niye jaabe bolechhile...

Bolechhile, tumi bolechhile....

(You promised to set up the floral nuptial by the riverbanks

You promised to take me to the tree-planting ceremony

You told me so…)

Baidyutik chullite dhukio naa aamaay

Vaasiye dio samudrajale

Jeno roye jaai jaler niche coral paathore.

Do not shove me into the electric furnace

Set me for immersion in the seawaters

To remain underneath among corals and pebbles.

Ektaa mrityu. Bole gelo kaal

Je manushtaa chhilo aajanmo paashe, aabege o avyashe je mukh aajo

Seo chhilo naa konodin aamaar

(A death. Yesterday called in to say

The person who remained by my side lifelong

That face still in habitual actions and emotions

He too was never mine)

Her poems constitute a series of questions that readers might be willing to do some self soul-searching before relating to themselves.

Ichhe korlei paaro

Vaasiye ditey stabdho aakaash?

Antohin shunya dupur?

Vaasiye ditey velaaye korey dukkho jomat?

(If you wish can you

Wash away a stunned sky?

An infinite blank noon?

Float away clotted grief?)

Ghumiye ghumiye buker modhye khnujcho ki tumi?

Jyotsna, naki swapno bneche thaakaar?

Vorer aaloye chnaader haashi, sakaalbelar dhun?

(What are you searching in the bosom in your sleep?

Moonshine or dreams to remain alive?

The lunar smile in the lights of dawn, the morning melodies?)

This gorgeous little book makes a lovely gift for a poetry lover or an easy introduction for a poetry novice. For a wider and universal readership I wish both the publisher and the poet jointly take up the project of translating the book into English.

For the last couple of days that I had been reading and re-reading the poems I strongly believe that readers like myself, will dip into this book time and again, only to discover something new, to find a different take to elicit a fresh view of life, love and relationships.

Reviewed By : Soma Roy

Soma Roy (b.1959) translates from English to Bangla and vice versa and also from German. Some of her translations have appeared in magazines and e-zines like Indian Literature (Sahitya Akademi), Wild Violet, Choreo Mag  Durbasha, Pyrta etc. Two books of poems translated by her, Marigold Moments and Rabindranath need special mention. Email:somaa1@gmail.com

The Very Best of Ruskin Bond: The Writer on the Hill / Rupa Publications

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

The Very Best of Ruskin Bond: The Writer on the Hill, a  selection of  fiction and non-fiction of Ruskin Bond, strings together the most lustrous pearls from  Bond’s  quintessential  stories  based on  landscape, ghosts, crime and investigation, history   and  autobiography.  The collection consists of two broad sections; fiction and nonfiction which are further categorised on the basis of when and where the stories were scripted.

‘The Thief’s Story’,  first story under fiction section,  1950s: Dehera,  is a penetrating  narration  by a thief, “a successful hand at an early age of 15” , who earns  kind Romi’s faith  and shelter in his home with his infectious smile, only to be tempted to steal his money one night. What follows is a tormenting conflict of choice between an opportunity to be educated by an honest and kind man and a ruthless betrayal and future as a thief. Amid the darkness of night and torrential rain the thief reaches railway station with an idea to flee the town with the stolen money. However, he could not move as the train arrives and leaves the platform. The sight of Romi sleeping innocently disturbs him; his dishonesty melts under the recollection of trust, empathy and affection.  The efficacious portrayal of complexity of an adolescent mind coming to terms with the world, stoic and empathetic protagonists ready to forgive the common human frailty and a vindication of affection and friendship are feature of Bond’s stories that immediately sink in.

Stories under 1960s and 1970s: Mapplewood Lodge, Mussoorie, provide us with different flavours: ‘Master ji’ is a humorous account of the narrator’s school teacher who is arrested by the police for selling fake certificates. The narrator who had all along taken this teacher’s help for Hindi is surprised to learn that he actually taught Punjabi. ‘The Kitemaker’ regrets the loss of  leisurely profession and pastime such as kite making.  ‘Most Beautiful’ questions the notion of beauty and ugliness in the context of a mentally retarded adolescent whom the narrator befriends.  ‘The Cherry Tree’ illustrates Bond’s pet theme - relationship between man and nature that grows in intensity with time like any other relation. ‘He said It with Arsenic’ is an engaging murder mystery involving the writer himself.

‘The last Time I Saw Delhi’ is autobiographical and marks a key realisation for the narrator that he  can never come to terms  with Delhi as his place  and his Mother’s  new family  as  his  family.

Though lucky to have born in bucolic surrounding the children inhibiting a hill side are not as fortunate as children in the plains in terms of the means they can access.  They are tried both by poverty and geography .Notwithstanding, they are hopeful, pleasant, hardworking and aspiring. ‘The Blue Umbrella’ and ‘A long Walk for Bina’ under 1980s and Onwards: Ivy Cottage ,Mussoorie, elucidate this predicament of the  village children of hillsides together with  the increasing tension between nature and human in the wake of the latter’s  invasion of the  former.

‘Once upon a Mountain Time’ in  1960s and 1970s: Mapplewood Lodge  consists of   diary entries of 1973 that   bring to life all the  fragrance,  hues, and resonance  of the mountains  as the writer’s observation  flutters  from quiet and still trees to chuk -chuk- chuk of night jar, from Sir Edmunds’s disturbed bowel to Bijju’s sturdy feet, from whistling thrush’s orgy in the pool near his cottage to rains, from leopards to dogs, from profusion of leeches and   bloodletting to them to new arrivals, from scarlet minivets to drongos bullying insects.  The writer’s frequents between   natural and human world, mapping constantly the changing equation between the two.          

‘A Case for Inspector Lal’ is an uncanny detective story. Inspector Lal though successfully investigates the murder case of Rani at Panauli, he fails to disclose the name of the murderer; a girl of 14 years. The inspector feels strange sympathy for this girl who commits the crime in self-defense. The story testifies that human nature is much more mysterious than any murder mystery.

The Non Fiction section, under two headings 1960s and 1970s: Mapplewood Lodge and 1980s and Onwards: Ivy Cottage , begins with  accounts  of certain historical figures whose life epitomise high drama, adventure and romance. “Colonel Gardener and the Princess of Cambay”  is a really delightful story of  romantic union of a European adventurer  Gardener, an admiral in British Navy; later served the Maratha chief Holkar,  and a Mohammedan Princess of Cambay. “Lady of Sardhana” reconstructs the story of the first and the only Catholic ruler of India whose life was “a succession of love affairs, intrigue and petty warfare.”

The last half a dozen non fictional accounts are recollection of incidents from the writer’s lonely childhood, school life; friendship that molded his perception. Some of these vignettes also introspect his creative process and philosophy. Certain characters, incidents episodes and settings seem to recur in many stories. Nevertheless, such repetitions are not only pardonable but serve as intriguing links in a selection covering the corpus of a writer’s work..

Bond looks at the human, animal, flora and fauna with same inquisitiveness, empathy and intimacy and sadly hints at how humans have violated the trust of Birds and animals. His vignette on trees and birds are the most beautiful rendition of his closeness with nature. In ‘Great Trees of Garhwal’ one gets a glimpse of the unique relation:

Some sounds cannot be recognized. They are strange night sounds, the sounds of trees themselves, stretching their limbs in the dark, shifting a little, flexing their fingers. Great trees of the mountain, they know me well. They know my face in the window; they see me watching them grow, listening to their secrets.

‘Birdsong in the Hills’ also takes the reader on a virtual tour to the jungle abuzz with the  chirpings of the exotic Himalayan birds and scintillating with their  lofty colours. ‘Ganga Descends’ seeks to understand   the “mild sort of controversy” between “serene green Bhagirathi” and “fretting and frothing” Alaknanda. All the stories are marked by an amazing picturisation of natural beauty of the hills the vivacity of which  is enhances with references to related facts and  amusing local legends. Bond weaves the binaries;  Nature /human, Adolescence (childhood)/adulthood, Hills/plains demonstrating  a clear inclination to the former. His portrayal of hills and valleys, trees and rains not only engages mind’s eyes but drenches all the senses leaving a lasting soothing effect. The stories exude an unmistakable spiritual bonding of the writer to his surrounding and the reader is almost entrances with the dreamily real   portrayal of the same.  An immensely readable book, it holds magic for everyone; and is particularly rewarding for children anticipating adulthood, adults wanting to revisit their childhood, nature lovers and travelers.

About the Columnist: 

Dr. Jindagi

Assistant Professor, 

Communication Skills, 

Dept. of Applied Sciences, MSIT, New Delhi

GODDESS by Laura Powell/ Bloomsbury

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

This piece of work by a very mesmerizing writer is surely a thriller and tells a story very different about an alternate London. The pen which was the cause behind the germination of an equally wonderful piece of writing “The Burn Mark” is once again the soul behind “The Goddess”. An aroma of suspense and hidden emotions swirl throughout the plot, a sense of fear and unwanted revelation can be felt in every line and in every word of this story which unfurls a completely new London in wrappers of secrets one after the other. A mixed feel of ancient era and a wonderful blend of modern times really take you to a different world much deeper into the plot. As you delve inside into the story, you start questioning many logical things and on the other hand start answering the unanswered questions. There is also a quest for love; in case you are looking for that but there also it arises some serious and intelligent questions which can guarantee to trigger your brain nerves. At first glimpse the plot may seem a slightly messy in parts but as you go on turning the pages, the hazy picture becomes clearer and you start exploring more and more and there lies the real beauty of this novel. It has that excellent potential to bind the readers and compel and persuade them to think independently on various issues raised by the protagonist and aided by various characters in the book. It tries to disclose as well as conceal the secrets of the cult which is somehow not right. Underneath plot there are many questions and themes which are so great that you cannot retrace yourself from appreciating their richness and feel their essence in today’s context.

The plot revolves around Aura, who leads her life as a handmaiden of Artemis. She is completely unaware that the life she is leading is how much privileged and luxurious. She also does not have any realization that the life outside the sanctuary is immensely difficult and poverty and grief stricken. She has no idea how bad things really are and it is like a heavy shock for her until Aiden the male lead introduces her to what is going on inside the sanctuary and outside, in the society. The whole scenario is crafted in London and is beautifully paced up throughout the plot except for those few areas which can obviously be ignored to preserve the greatness of this novel which serves for the readers of good taste. How far a society goes to prevent civil unrest? Power corrupts but can it ever be given up? Can a priestess ever be free to find love? All these and many more questions are raised very systematically without eroding the true layer of the elements which make up a classic novel. One of the most important things with this literary flower which has blossomed from the mind of Laura Powell is that it does not revolve around many locations but still it can stand if not tall then equal to novels which has lot of destinations involved. The plot has been so well organised and wonderfully researched that all the happenings seem to be real. Readers can also find it in the author’s note at the end if they desire to find more which I can say with assurance that they will. One other exciting feature of this story is that the corruption rooted through the water of religion in the heart of the city is exposed by a heroine this time.

If you are there on a hunt for a different and sensible taste for novels then by picking this one you can surely end up your hunt that too quite satisfactorily. I, on my behalf can assure all the readers that if you are looking for a piece of work which takes all human emotions necessary for a good novel and still raises prominent issues through questioning almost everything and opens the knots of mystery one after the other, then nothing matches parallel to this flamboyant flow of courage and delicacy portrayed on the canvas of a beautiful story.

Reviewed by Partho Mishra

A wisdom sharer interested in creative thoughts and innovations, especially in areas of rich literature, applied physics and computers and technology. Also a freelancer in all these related areas.

twitter handle- @UNIMANULLARDUKE

e-mail id -parthomishra016@gmail.com

Don't Let Him Know by Sandip Roy / Bloomsbury India

Reviews, Vol I, Issue IV

“A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept.”

― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Voices come and voices go, but rare are the voices which stay with you. They linger in your head making a space for themselves for evermore. Such is the voice of Sandip Roy in his debut novel Don’t Let Him Know. Hailing from the backdrop of Calcutta and ranging to the U.S. (published by Bloomsbury India) it is the story of a family whose members hold different personal secrets throughout their lives, trying to keep it enveloped within their heart by hiding it from others (the others, who are their own). Trapped in the complexities of love, responsibility and personal emotions, it is an intriguing tale, engaging the lives of multiple generations.   

The narrative begins with an unnerving conversation heading between Romola Mitra and her son Amit who has recently discovered a part of an old letter, the last page in fact, hidden in an old address book. He considers it a love letter from a long-lost lover of his mother, finding it signed by an unknown, without any address. According to the note, it is a man from past who tends to profess his affection for the recipient and at the same time shows his regret on being betrayed.

“Romola sat there in Amit’s armchair slightly stunned. After all these years how could she have been so careless? She knew she had saved the letter, unable to destroy it the way she should have years ago. She remembered reading it and rereading it, each word striking her like a sledgehammer, cracking her open over and over again. She had always meant to throw it away, shred it, but somehow she never could. She had hidden it instead – stashed away like a secret pain. But she had never meant Amit to see it.”

However, the truth is revealed in the next chapter when the readers find out that this letter was written to Amit’s father Avinash who has recently passed away. Avinash was, in reality, a gay man who married Romola, to fulfil his responsibility as the only son of his family, keeping his true identity concealed.  

It happens in Illinois, U. S., when Romola Mitra, the newly wed wife of Avinash comes to know about his secret affair with his childhood friend, Sumit, when she accidently opens the wrong letter while waiting for her first letter from home in India. Although, Avinash never gets any hint about the secret of his wife, who once upon a time romanced a dashing filmstar, Subir Kumar.

Whilst these larger than life seeming secrets, there linger many other secrets related to various other characters of the narrative too.

While the tale telling takes place in series of fast forward technique, the detailed description of Roy’s intriguing characters and captivating situations prove alluring, keeping the readers glued, until the  narrative ends from where it began –

Don’t let him know she liked them best

For this must ever be

A secret, kept from all the rest,

Between yourself and me.

- Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Sandip Roy is Senior Editor at the popular news portal Firstpost.com and blogs for the Huffington Post. He has been a longtime commentator on National Public Radio’s Morning Edition, one of the most listened-to radio programmes in the US, and has a weekly radio postcard for public radio in San Francisco Bay Area. He is also an editor with New America Media. Sandip has won several awards for journalism and contributed to various anthologies including Storywallah!, Contours of the Heart, Out! Tories from the New Queer India, New California Writing 2011 and The Phobic and the Erotic: The Politics of Sexualities in Contemporary India. Sandip lives in Kolkata. 

Reviewed by Varsha Singh