|
Between Memory
and Desire
-K. Satchidanandan
Navtej Sarna’s debut novel is a minor masterpiece of lyrical,
romantic fiction. Narrated in the form of a series of reveries
during a train journey from Delhi to Dehradun, the story embodies
a rather desperate act of retrospection coloured by some
introspection. Aftab, the pensive, middle-aged protagonist on his
way to Dehradun in the hope of meeting his old beloved Rohini, is
seldom self-critical. This is especially true of his reflections
on why his wife, Mina, finally left him to marry her old friend
Rajiv. He cannot identify any shortcomings in himself that might
have driven Mina to Rajiv. He concludes, rather, that Rajiv had
a better presence and was better in bed. There is a touch of
narcissism in Aftab, coloured by nostalgia for days of passion
spent in Bombay with his ‘Ro’, whom he did not marry because his
father had found her family wanting. She had then married Gautam,
a busy young NRI careerist in the US. She left him without
remorse, for she had other ideas of wedded life.
I don’t think a
serious writer in an Indian language would ever dare to pick such
a theme for a novel, for fear of being dubbed ordinary, romantic
and downright sentimental, worthy only of those popular magazines
that serialize triangular love stories or television soap operas
that trivialise human life. Navtej Sarna, however, has not only
dared to handle the theme but has even turned his first novel into
a success, thanks to his linguistic skill and polished style, an
unerring eye for detail and rather subdued handling of
situations. He avoids sensationalism while retaining the
emotional quality of his tale.
The novel is
unpretentious and the whole narrative rises above the
protagonist’s own rather prejudiced and self-laudatory view of
things because of its sincerity, its undercurrent of sustained
emotions and a dreamy quality that comes from its lyrical,
evocative idiom. Sarna’s prose can cleverly conjure up urban
landscapes and encounters with love and death.
Regarded
objectively, Mina and Rohini are both independent women, asserting
themselves in difficult situations and getting out of suffocating
relationships without self-pity. They perform their turbulent
acts calmly. Come to think of it, so does the angst-ridden hero
when he quits his job and embarks on his journey of dreamy
anticipation and uncertain fulfillment. The author does not
valorize the protagonist’s perspective: the reader is free- and is
even invited – to be critical of his morbid self-love, his
cowardice before his father and his wife, his insistent refusal to
open up except to himself in his moods of contemplative
introspection. Aftab seems to enjoy his solitude and nurses his
wounds with masochistic pleasure.
The reality of the
city, mostly described from the perspective of a satisfied
resident (thus avoiding engagement with its traumas and
frustrations), bursts upon us at least once: When Rohini
encounters a death – an apparent death – on the streets of
Bombay. The perception is soon personalized; the girl recalls
seeing her mother’s dead body when a child of ten. Since then,
she has feared the dead. The hidden terror of the claustropohobic
city haunted by poverty, helplessness and death comes alive in
this episode.
There are meditative
passages of poetic charm, too:
“One after another,
beautiful fragrant beginnings go sour, turn ugly and die. And
then there is nothing much left to do but consign all that is left
to flames. Let the incandescent indiscriminating heat turn to dust
what was sick and what was still alive, what was right and what
was wrong. Then the dust of the past, the little shrapnel of
bones that have proved too resistant, the remains of memories and
emotions and promises can all be packed up in a bag and emptied
into some sacred river of flowing time that carries away days and
nights, months and years, birthdays and anniversaries”.
Passages like this reveal a
potential far beyond what the author has accomplished here, a
capacity for deeper and more complex contemplation of human
relationships, of love, hate, sin and death that characterizes the
greater novelists of every literary tradition. |