Short, candid reviews of works by Arundhati Roy, Parimal Bhattacharya, Andrew Fidel Fernando, and Pankaj Mishra – each offering a masterclass in its genre
Uzair Qadri
Over the last month, I read four non-fiction books, each from a different subgenre—politics, literature, memoir, and travelogue. Here is a brief, informal take on each.
The first is “Mother Mary Comes to Me” by Arundhati Roy, her memoir. The book is a no-nonsense, brutally honest mirror of Roy’s childhood under the care of her unpredictable yet fiercely intelligent mother. A master of prose, Roy is at the height of her powers, offering a heartless and dispassionate take on the precariousness of life. One stumble and it can all be over. Her mother comes across as a stern and complex figure, whose approach to raising Arundhati and her brother could, at times, lead to a complete emotional breakdown. Kudos to the writer for letting bygones be bygones and holding nothing back. A very compelling book.
Second is “No Path in Darjeeling is Straight: Memories of a Hill Town” by Parimal Bhattacharya. This is a finely chiselled chronicle of the life, times, and evolution of Darjeeling. It is primarily a reminiscence of the 1990s, when the author served there as part of the West Bengal Education Service. Bhattacharya masterfully describes the encroachment upon tribal ways of life, the town’s multicultural fabric, its political turmoil, the hopelessness among its youth, and the monochromatic reality behind its tourist façade. The book deserves applause for its brilliant command of literary style.
The third is “Upon a Sleepless Isle: Travels in Sri Lanka in Bus, Cycle and Trishaw” by Andrew Fidel Fernando. I have always been intrigued by India’s southern neighbour, with its complex and non-uniform societies. Sri Lanka is a beautiful country that has managed to beat tropical diseases, raise human development standards, and emerge from dormancy. Yet, as Fernando notes, greasy bureaucracy, political kleptocracy, foreign debt, and the steep fault lines between Sinhalese, Tamils, and the Muslim micro-minority remain as attendant fetters. The author’s metaphors, similes, and aphorisms are both hilarious and poignant. His erudition shines in weaving his travels with the island’s socio-economic and political undercurrents. The narrative is redolent with a deep sense of history, ethnicity, the intrusion into indigenous life, and contemporary politics. This is not just any travelogue but a well-defined encyclopaedia of the island. A very good little book.
Last is a book by Pankaj Mishra, inarguably one of the finest political commentators of our time. “The World After Gaza” offers a lucid analysis of how the demonisation and dehumanisation of Palestinians have been normalised. It begins with the alienation of Jewish identity over a century and exposes the hollow hypocrisy of Western assertions—first regarding Jews and now regarding Palestine. Mishra’s sedate and staid arguments cut through the smokescreen of lies and obduracy. My only complaint, in general, is that Mishra’s prose can be prolix, bland, and at times, directionless—a tendency that perhaps keeps him from wider acclaim. Such a beautiful mind deserves to be read, and a voluntary mellowing in style might serve him well.
Much more to reflect upon, perhaps another day.
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