The Amitav Ghosh Blog- & Allied Ramblings

My reading habit has been married to me, in a loyal bond, since I was 8 years old. It began by riffling through stacks of decades old annual issues of Readers Digest & Readers Digest Review that my maternal grandpa collected. I also noticed very intimidating books stacked up alongwith them, but they were usually too big in size to handle for me.

Encouraged by the only habit that seemed to keep me quiet & stuck to one spot, my mother took me to the only bookstore in Guwahati with a sizeable collection of fiction- Modern Book Store, Pan Bazaar. And thus began the quantum graduation journey from Enid Blyton, to Nancy Drew & to the Godfather in less than 365 days. Thankfully, in a family where every man & woman worked for a living, no one took notice when I picked up 'The CarpetBaggers' by Harold Robbins, or Gore Vidal classics at the ripe age of 9.

My brother scowled for half a minute, then smiled and said

'Now you & I can share our books!'.

Indian writing in English, therefore, was an unfamiliar genre. It was only in my 11th standard, that my English literature professor at Cotton Colllege, approved of me picking up 'The Calcutta Chromosome' & 'The Shadow Lines'.

"Amitav Ghosh? Hmmmm... that's the right way to start."

And I think he hit the nail on the head. No one had  brought alive the tell tales of my childhood & teenage years like this author did. Considering the proximity of our cultures & our states, many Bengali experiences are often interchangeable with Assamese ones. Which is why, The Shadow Lines- with it's generational transition across continents- struck a chord. I read the book two times over, back to back. And thus, a relationship of idolization  & admiration of the elusive Ghosh, who wasn't a fixture on Sunday magazine editions of newspapers, began for me.

If reading is your habit of choice too, I recall the sudden explosion of 'Indian writing in English' that hit the shelves between 2003- 2005. (Or maybe, I just noticed it then.) Many colourful, eye catching covers with cliched  Indian experiences as titles would automatically draw you to the rack.

I have explored some of the early Indian fiction writing. Notably amongst them, so deserve their cult status. 'The Inscrutable Americans' by Anurag Mathur, 'English, August' by Upamanyu Chatterjee & a later book, 'The Namesake' by Jhumpa Lahiri come to mind when I think 'cult'.

Before I continue, I request readers not to misjudge my intention here. It's simply fabulous that more & more authors are getting published, and that India, is finally reading more. Just that, I believe, writing has to enhance value or gratify creative hunger. Or more importantly, tell a good story.  Like a good film, a good book has to have a solid story, or a developing plot. Otherwise, its just window dressing with a lot of fancy, smartly laced words. Which is why, I am very hesitant to pick up these new, celebrated, urban centric, technicolor cover novels.

At the risk of generalising, I would like to point out with trepidation at some recent observations of Indian Fiction writing in English. The Chetan Bhagatization of Indian novels has given me the heebee jeebies ever so often. Even on a tiresome low cost airline flight, some of these thin, light to carry books make me want to sob in frustration, for the covers Don't explain that they are meant for 6 to 8 year olds. Or for that matter, the Indian chick lit books.. Except for  the one off bright one, (like Advaita Kala's Almost Single), the rest are forgotten the moment you blink & think of your grocery list. They don't have the street smart sleekness of Candace Bushnell, or the raw, hungry sexuality of Jackie Collins. (Admit it, smut reading often take the sting out a troublesome journey, especially when you are young.) They just, well, keep flitting between stories of girls who's perennial battle seem to fit into skinny jeans, or impress a rather pedestrian man,  or sometimes, find 'the real india' by interacting with the dhobi.

But the worst offenders, according to me, are the 'pseudo classics'. These are books that come up with eloquent, rich descriptions of 'Indian visual' - a mango cultivation, a paddy field, a village market, a community puja at a temple- with layers & layers weaving big, English words, only to end up in a chasm of pointlessness. Often, they don't have a story & stick to the 'experiences' of the urban young Indian in the 'real India'. Well, considering the 'Real India' has often been a summer vacation spot at my paternal village, ( throw in the rice field, the temple & the mango trees), & most Brahmputra floods drive in the real India right into our doorsteps back home, I find these pretentious novels  a royal waste of time. Problem is, their synopses or reviewers often skip to put in the statuotory warning that says,

"Strictly for those who have gained their enlightenment at the crossroads of Cafe Coffee Day or Carter Road'. (You can change the coordinates for each metro city, as per relevance.).

However, before I ramble anymore, let me come to the good Indian writing. In my universe, Amitav Ghosh leads that school.  For he is original. He tells you a story, Indian at heart & universal in appeal. He doesn't 'adjust' to urban needs of fast paced writing. Books aren't meant to be like happy meals all the time right?

For he goes back to the basic tools - of research, history & life experience- for his books. The canvass of his trilogy, as explored in the 'Sea of Poppies' & 'River of Smoke', is simply, mind boggling. It's the James Cameron & Steven Spielberg of writing, unchallenged even by proficient Western novelists in the last 2 years. Personally, for a student of history from the university of Delhi, its also vindication.It does stun you how a significant chapter of Indo-Chinese History during the East India Company days is completely skipped by textbooks. Ghosh not only brings to the fore the significance of this period, his first book - Sea of Poppies- also reads like a thriller. There are many Indian lives that converge under the changing dynamic of overseas trade & the new foreign, ruler& their resolution is left incomplete, yet tantalising. The second book - River of Smoke - stalls the pace quite a bit, & is self indulgent with the description of life in Fanqui town (Canton's trading port,), but you marvel at the author's eye for detail. Besides, the stalling resonates with it's chief protagonist's circumstances, prior to the Opium War. You can't help but draw similies to neo imperialistic expansion of the present world too, & I think, the author subtly intends to achieve it. Some interesting facts emerge too, like the Samosa's ancestor, that 'funkytown', a slang for Chinese settlements, emerges from 'Fanqui town'. The two books are as addictive as the opium they revolve around. They create a world when time is turned back, to a very different world with interesting costumes & knick knacks, yet, eerily similar at the economy level. And like a night at an opium den, you fantasize & pray for the third book in the trilogy to hit shelves soon. Can't be soon enough ! These, according to me, are Ghosh's best books so far.

Its always been a childhood desire & a teenage dream, and now, an adult fantasy, to be one tenth of Amitav Ghosh as an author. I continue to cherish the thought, it keeps me going. I know this perhaps won't happen. But alll the same, one lives in the hope of learning to create magic with words. (To quote Dumbledore from 'Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows'. )

Also, before I wrap up, I am listing some recent Indian writing in English that stayed with me - for their honesty & artistic appeal. Or for their contemporary resonance. (I mention only those books, that I haven't referred to in my blog already.)

1/ The Palace of Illusions - Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni

2/ The House of Blue Mangoes - David Davidar  (published a while back)

3/ Keep Off the Grass -Karan Bajaj

4/ The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy

5/ Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri

6/ Sacred Games - Vikram Chandra (Gets very gory after a point.)

7/ The Glass Palace - Amitav Ghosh

8/ The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes - Jamyang Norbu (Not strictly Indian, is a Tibetan exile who's lived 40 years of his life here.)

9/ The Last Song of Dusk - Siddharth Dhanvant Sanghvi

10/ The Collector's Wife -Mitra Phukan

11/ The 6 PM Slot - Naomi Datta (For urban cuts, this is refreshing, insightful & very funny.)

*Emphasis on RECENT, as the list furnished here doesn't cover Anita Desai or earlier writing. It's strictly post 2000 fare. (Except for the Amitav Ghosh books.)

*Please Note that I haven't yet read Arvind Adiga or Rana Dasgupta, although, both come highly recommended for a genuine style.

If I have missed out some solid, original & beautiful Indian writing, please do let me know of them. I would actually love to read these books. A legacy as varied & enriched as ours, is inspiration enough for thousands of more Indian fiction novels. & that's the best part of the Indian novel revolution.