Reflections: The World We Found

Thrity Umrigar’s latest book surrounds the stories of four college friends who drifted away in the currents of life, but come together for one last poignant reunion. Laleh, Kavita, Nishta, and Armaiti were an inseparable, idealistic bunch in college. With fiery beliefs in socialism and secularism, the girls envisaged creating a New India, a new society, a new way of life. Now, after the passage of more than two decades, fate draws all the four women together as Armaiti battles a fatal illness. As they reconnect, they are forced to reflect on their own lives, confront their pasts, their regrets, their simple, touching idealism, and wonder how their worlds shaped in directions almost contrary to the beliefs and ideologies of their younger selves. Faced with this jolt of realization, the women deal with their inner conflicts as they decide what little steps should be taken to resurrect at least a portion of their dreams to build their own world - congruent to their terms. This is a reflective book that juxtaposes idealism with reality, individual forces against political and religious forces, specifically in the context of Indian society in the thriving city of Bombay.

I loved Thrity Umrigar’s Bombay Time for the wonderful, memorable characters that she weaved into a complex story that involves people, culture and society merging into one another and influencing each other. This book has a similar theme. The threads are similar, the colors are similar, but the patterns and textures are different. One major aspect that I appreciate in Umrigar’s writing is her beautiful, realistic depiction of how people change, and what causes them to harbor thoughts and execute actions that are socially appalling. The psychological characterization makes it easy for the reader to readily sympathize  and empathize with even those characters whom we resent in our lives. One such character in this story is Iqbal, Nishta’s austere muslim husband. Although I was unable to empathize with this character in the beginning, my heart went out for him by the end. And the most amazing part was I sympathized with both Iqbal and Nishta, felt their emotions as if they were my own, read their thoughts, and connected with their fears and frustrations. I couldn’t view one as the victim and the other as the perpetrator as we so often do while coming to know of real life stories. Both were victims in my eyes, and that was precisely the author’s aim. She convincingly crafted the story to show how forces and powers much much bigger than our idealism crush the essence of our ideals. Religious violence, communal violence, and the accompanying prejudices and discrimination, often turn people to seek comfort in the very arms that slashed them - religion and community. An idealistic, secural Iqbal who was daring enough to oppose his family and community by marrying a Hindu, was pushed to embrace his religion and community to protect himself. My favorite piece in this book is the story of Nishta and Iqbal. It has the most impact and significance to the book.

In addition to the strong thread on Hindu-Muslim rivalry and prejudices, Umrigar also focuses on the subtle but powerful influence of capitalism in our socialistic structure. Money, higher “caste”, and power are the reigning elements in India, despite the extents of good-will, idealism, and socialistic attitude that one tries to wear, and live by. These pieces are tightly strung into every chapter and every scene, making it thought-provoking for the reader to inspect into their own lives.

Another piece that touched me was Armaiti’s thoughts and her slow, gradual reconcilement to her illness and mortality. Umrigar’s writing on mortality was refined, deep, and moving.

These strong and relevant themes carry this book along. I was a bit disappointed with some of the main characters in the book - they seemed a bit cliched and didn’t seem to have distinct personalities that I could remember. I think this is because Umrigar tries to cover a gamut of social themes using more than five primary characters, that some characters don’t have enough room in the story to be entirely fleshed out. For instance, the social issue on lesbianism is part of the book, but it merely exists within a cliched, obvious character and setting.

Umrigar’s writing is beautiful and touchingly insightful in some sections, but some of the dialogues seemed a little unnatural and trite. And knowing the various little hoops one needs to jump through, and the lengthy, arduous rigmarole that Indians go through to obtain their US visa, I felt the visa interview process was not represented in its true light. But, that’s just a quibble in the overall framework of the story.

Except for these few quibbles, I quite liked reading the book. It was deeply relevant and meaningful. I could very easily identify with the young idealistic girls who were slowly pulled by life’s uncertain, inexplicable paths. I already cringe at the unnerving prospect of looking back and pondering how far removed life looks from the idealistic image painted by the younger me. I’m sure to remember this book and its themes for a very very long time. This is an interesting, contemplative read that I recommend. 

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I received an advance-review-copy of this book through a publisher-organized giveaway that was hosted here. Quite exciting! Thanks to the publisher (Harper) for sending me a review copy, and to S. Krishna for organizing this. 

A disclaimer that my thoughts on the book are honest and are not influenced by the free copy.

Reflections: Bombay Time

I’m sure someone has noticed my recent trend in books. While previously I was guarded and lukewarm towards books written by authors of Indian origin, these days, I’m making up for my indifference by diligently scanning the library for the very same authors. I have to say that I am pleasantly surprised, both with myself and with the authors. Looking back at the books I have enjoyed and admired in the last few months, I’m thrilled to find that most were written by authors of Indian origin. I have been stirred and awed by the stellar writing prowess of Manil Suri, Abraham Verghese, Anuradha Roy, Salman Rushdie, and Indu Sundaresan. I’m proud of them, and of their beautiful writing that inspires and teaches. Therefore, I find myself in a quest to seek out books and authors that I have ignored for so long; to explore a genre I previously shunned out of the fierce protectiveness I felt towards my own country, home, and people, of the agony of reading about them in a less-flattering light, and of the fear of unearthing uncomfortable memories.

I’ve heard plenty of glowing praises for Thrity Umrigar, so I picked this book of hers. Let me cut to the chase before I embark on my rambling and state that Umrigar is yet another author I would go hunting for in the book racks.

This novel follows a different style of story-telling. It tells the stories of the different occupants of Wadia Baug, an apartment complex in Bombay, housing a well-knit Parsi community. In the throes of their late middle-age, the members of the community nostalgically look back at their lives and wonder at the early dreams, hopes and happiness their lives held, and the detours and disappoints that fate threw their way to break their wings of hope. Despite the uneven bittersweet journey they traveled, they were grateful for one robust pillar of support - the friendship of the Wadia Baug community. The novel is a seemingly simple story of the importance of community and companionship. But the stories are heavily layered with so many aspects of life, especially of life in Bombay.

This is a character-driven book, as some people would classify. The book teems with interesting characters, reminiscent of people we know, of people we probably are turning into, and of people we have struggled to understand. What I respect and marvel at is Umrigar’s honest and insightful psychological appraisal of these people. Despite the characters’ numerous flaws, she shows us the true person they are at heart. She articulates my hypothesis that people are inherently good, and even, simple. Yet, they become complicated, and sometimes reprehensible, because of the disappointments, tragedies, and painful experiences they are forced to go through. They continue to live life as their vulnerabilities, insecurities, guilt, regrets, and wounds threaten to never heal, and fester just under the surface.

For instance, we admonish and hate the gossipy, old woman in the neighborhood, but have probably never taken a moment to consider how her life had been before she became so; why she seems to unfailingly provide food and help when you need it; and why your parents implicitly trust her with their house keys, despite her petty talk and inquisitiveness. Or why the “apartment board” never fires the inefficient, ill-tempered, weak, watchman. Every person has a story, a reason for why there are they way they are. With a little empathy, and a little consideration, we look into the unsoiled person within them. Although we will continue to resent their flaws, their stunted maturity, their cloistered thinking, their intrusion and comments on your life, we need them just as much to establish a community and rely on their basic (sometimes, well hidden), harmless, good nature. We realize, grudgingly at that, that our quintessential Indian neighborhood does indeed do more good than the secluded islands of the western residential communities.

Digested Thoughts: Although at times I felt there were a tad too many characters and stories to keep track of, Umrigar beautifully unwraps the stories of six different Parsi families, and their connection to the Wadia Baug apartment complex. The stories cannot be more real, and honest, and they each involve the role played by Bombay - its boisterous, harsh, unforgiving part. They also shed light on subtle Indian customs, traditions, and its social and political dynamics that complicate life needlessly. As much as Umrigar emphasizes the benefits of being part of a community, she also brilliantly and subtly shows the flip-side. If we wrap ourselves too very tightly and comfortably in the safe cocoon of our little ethnic community, we remain ignorant, indifferent and callous towards the rest of the world operating around us. Secluding oneself within a community is just as bad as being intolerant of other communities. We all need to realize that we are part of something bigger than just our tiny community. It is important to connect with all of humanity, as being part of one big society. This is especially true of India, where there are a million different sectarian groups, that we tend to see ourselves as total strangers if we so much as move to a different religious neighborhood within the very same city. This feeling of being an alien if we step two streets away from our community, is the cause for communal tension and violence.

Anyway, to wrap up, I enjoyed reading this book, especially the character analysis, and will definitely recommend it. Umrigar's writing is simple, but evocative and insightful.