In Bed with Ghosh

A friend tickled my interest with a teasing text message – “ In bed with Ghosh”. Generally I am a little wary of buying over-hyped books soon after their release. Vikram Seth’s Two lives and Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games were 2 such disappointments in the recent past. I couldn’t go beyond the first 100 pages of the first and not even 50 pages of the second. So, I was a little hesitant in picking up Amitava Ghosh’s latest – the Sea of Poppies despite the rave reviews all over (and, now, also a nomination for the Booker).

Till date Ghosh’ Shadow Lines remains my favourite with the Hungry Tide coming a close second. Somehow his Glass Palace, liked a lot by many, didn’t do much for me – I thought it somehow lost its way between a family saga and a historical epic - tho’ its sprawling canvas and gigantic sweep are truly awe-inspiring. Ghosh’s prose often leaves me a little cold. It doesn’t have the soul uplifting quality that I look for in a great book. While I certainly don’t have the temerity to go as far as Hugo Barnacle to say – “There isn't one badly composed sentence in the book……, there isn't one particularly good sentence, either” , his impeccably constructed sentences fail to challenge the reader's imagination.

Infact, what’s perhaps Ghosh’s singular strength among Indian authors writing in English ( don’t think they use the term Indo-Anglican anymore) – his rigorous research also turns out to be his greatest weakness. His narrative is often weighed down by the copious details – which read like what should have appeared as footnotes in a thesis built into the main body of the text. It reminds me of our student days – when we were well prepared for an exam – we tried to pack in everything we had studied into the answer. Similarly, at times he gives the impression of getting carried away displaying his erudition on the subject – leading the unsuspecting reader to miss the woods for the trees.

For me, the Hungry Tide was an exception – its narrative soared to great heights as the killer tide raged through the Matla. He never let the details take over the story. Even in parts where there was either a historical background or an anthropological data they were seamlessly woven into the plot. This, sadly, didn’t happen – at least for me – in the Glass Palace, where the various strands seemed to come apart towards the end.

Reverse Parochialism

And yet, though I am not usually prone to parochial chauvinism, I end up gifting Ghosh’ books to many a friend. That’s because – among the new breed of Indian authors I find him to be the most consistent and none of his books can be dismissed as bad fiction or being light weight ( something that can’t be said even about Rushdie – who I don’t think has written a single worthwhile book after Midnight’s Children and I find most of his heavy tomes not just forgettable but at times downright unreadable)

I have so far come upto some 150 odd pages of the Sea of Poppies – as the IBIS takes berth in the Hooghly. The description of the of the Poppy fields and the Opium factory in Ghazipur is riveting – as indeed is the tale of Zachary Reid and his band of lascars and serangs who steer the schooner (which was once used for ferrying slaves from West Africa) to its new owner – Benjamin Burnham in Calcutta who had purchased it for shipping opium to China. But, there are times I do wish that Ghosh hadn’t come upon reference material such as “ An English and Hindostanee Naval Dictionary of Technical Terms” or “Anglo-Indian Vocabulary of Nautical terms and the Glossary of Anglo-Indian Words and Phrases”. I find myself constantly tripping over the forced colloquialism – often breaking the rhythm and cadence of the read.

But, I’ll reserve my judgement – for what it’s worth – till the IBIS completes her voyage.

Of Falls and Failings

The other very interesting book I am reading in tandem is Sudhir Kakar’s collection of essays – “Mad and Divine”. In the first article – titled “The Childhood of a Spiritually Incorrect Guru : OSHO ”. All things said, there is no denying that Rajneesh was a remarkable character – deeply charismatic even if a fascinating charlatan. Kakar has tried to unravel the phenomenon that was OSHO by tracing his evolution through the journey from his childhood with not just the insights of a master psychoanalyst but also with the sensitivity of a novelist.

I have always been intrigued at how so many of these self-proclaimed God-men and Gurus - merchants of the Spiritual Bazars as I like to call them - stray from their “path”. A simple Google search would reveal that – almost all ‘big brands’ exported to the West have got embroiled in some sexual scandal or other – starting from the great Mahesh Yogi, Swami Rama, Kriyananda to the latest one in a Texas (Austin) Ashram – who is out on a multi-million dollar bail for charges of paedophilia.

I know many of you would assert that, there was no question of a fall or straying as their chosen “path” was far from straight to begin with. But, I would like to give the benefit of doubt at least to some of them if not all. That’s because – I genuinely believe ( and, here I am not trying to make a case for myself ) that it is the same “vital energy” which drives both the spiritual and primal urges. This is clearly recognized in Tantra. And, it is for the same reason – the ancient sages have always stipulated exercise of abundant caution in climbing up the serpent (Kundalini) as it were – otherwise, face the risk of a grave fall. Ramakrishna and Swami V – who prescribed strict abstinence for the true spiritual aspirant, enunciated the same principles in more recent times.

Kakar explains this beautifully, when he writes:

“…..the spirit when it soars pulls up the psyche in its wake. But… the spirit never completely escapes the gravitational pull exerted by the forces of narcissism, aggression and desire in the psyche..”

then he goes on to add – “what may be essential for our gaze, however, is to attend to the vision of the spirit’s soaring, not the oft-repeated tragedy of its fall.”

Gol-Maal

I find this resonating strongly with 2 other teachings of Ramakrishna. He used to say “ Jadio Amar Guru Shudi Bari Jaye.. tabuo amar Guru Nityananda Ray” – which roughly translated means – even if my Guru goes to a bar or a brothel, he would still be my Guru. Or putting it more simply, he would say – that the world is full of “Gol-Maal” , it is for us to eliminate the “Gol” and take the “Maal”

The next essay in the book is - “Seduction and the Saint”. I would be dishonest – if I say that, I am not looking forward to reading it a wee bit more than the next chapter of the Sea of Poppies.

Lady Canning lives in Japan

Last week on my way to KL again, I picked up Kunal Basu's - "The Japanese Wife" at the Mumbai Airport Crossword. Had read about the book earlier - but didn't know that Aparna Sen was making a movie out of it. The Indian edition is clearly timed for the release of the film. The jacket - well designed in matt yellow and orange with muted Japanese floral prints and tinted silhouettes of the actors (Rahul Bose and the shaven-headed Japanese woman ) has an understated western touch, which I fell for despite the old adage about not judging a book by its cover. It's a collection of short stories or short-fictions as the publishers prefers to call them.


The blurb bills it as a "surreal love story" and I felt that "surrealistic" quality in the first page itself. Starting to read it on the plane - I was at once overcome by a sense of deja-vu !! The story was set in a village - Shonai - on the periphery of the Sunderbans ,across Canning, by the bank of the Matla river - a part of Bengal to which many Calcutta bred Bongs like this one, I have no qualms in admitting, came to be introduced only recently by Amitava Ghosh's - The Hungry Tide. And, it seemed a little uncanny that, I had also bought a copy of the latter at the airport for a friend in KL, who wanted it after reading Ghosh's - Glass Palace (set partly in Malayasia ) which she liked.

It's a story of a school teacher in Shonai, who has been in a long-distance marriage for over 20 years with a pen-friend in Japan, without ever having met her in person. On first reading it appeared bizarre . The plot lacked credibility on several counts - not the least of which, even at the risk of sounding disgustingly class prejudiced like Aveek Sarkar, I would say, was the choice of the locale. 'Bhadraloks' of South Calcutta generally associate Canning with fish-sellers in Gariahat market and house-hold helps (mostly Bangladeshi migrants ) who come from that area. Even Ghosh's Hungry Tide didn't do much to redeem that image of this economically deprived and depressed part of West Bengal known as South 24 Parganas . So, it's difficult to imagine an "anker - mastermoshai" ( mathematics school teacher) from Shonai (granted, he went to college in Calcutta - that's when he developed a pen-friendship with this Japanese girl whom he discovering in a magazine, exchanged vows and consummated a 'mail-order' marriage in no time ) could maintain this strange telescopic marital relationship in full view of his villager community - both young and old - and with the explicit indulgence of his widowed aunt, who affectionately calls her "Bou-Ma". His rather urbane sounding name - Snehamoy Chakrabarti - doesn't help matters either.

And a lay reader like your lonely blogger, who has very stereotypical ideas of Japanese society and culture - from books and films not having ever visited that country - is left totally flummoxed by the character of Miyaja - the Japanese wife. We are told very little about her except that, she lives in a city on the banks of the Nakanokuchi river , writes letters in different coloured inks reflecting her changing moods and state of mind, sends him exotic gifts like kites, Hokusai prints and mountain cherries ( don't know if they arrived in refrigerated containers !!) and posts her "will" in a sealed envelope to be opened only after her death. There isn't as much of a hint about her personal situation or background - all of which are left to challenge our underdeveloped imagination.

May be it was the setting that introduced a bias in my mind. Sub-consciously, perhaps, I was expecting to see traces of The Hungry Tide, like the similarities one would have inevitably found in, say a Ray and Ritwik's treatment of comparable locational situations in rural Bengal ( I wonder how a Subodh or Santosh Ghosh would have handled such a subject). But, he is no Ghosh or a Jhumpa either. Shonai is just the name of a village in his story - it could well have been Siliguri, Sitamari or Saharanpur. I thought his style lacked polish ( considering he is an Oxford Don ), the cadence uneven, the characters sketchy and the development of the plot half-baked and disjointed.

I liked the opening tho' - including the soon-going-to be famous line : "She sent him kites", which opened up a whole world of possibilities. The description of how the box of kites was carried on various modes of transport from Canning to Shonai across the Matla made amusing reading. And, the story did come alive for once in the sequence of the 'kite - fight' in the village. But after soaring to great heights, like the giant Nagasaki kite, it too went "Bhookata" in mid-air. The parallel plot of the young widow and the child moving into the house had tremendous dramatic potential - which wasn't allowed to climax. The ending - with its deliberate twist - was the best part. And, probably there begins his story.

It is only after you put down the book - does it really begin to work on you.- almost subliminally. Gradually the pencil strokes become visible, the outlines emerge , the images get form and the pictures are filled with colour. And, you are suddenly able to read - what a reviewer called - "the sub-texts of yearnings, separations, loss and secret lives" that lie somewhere deep within all of us. That's where it begins to strike a chord. Someone once described writing as nothing but an exercise in telepathy. Is this also a telepathy of sorts ?

Is Basu going to be the next Indian writing wonder ? I'm not so sure about that. But, he definitely leaves you longing for something more. Let's see how Aparna creates magic with her Miyaja.

( PS: As those who have read Ghosh's Hungry Tide would know - the port of Canning was named after Lady Canning, as was the popular Bengali Sweet - "Lady-kini" )