Author: Gurbir Singh
Publisher: Zonton Books, India.
pp.302. Kindle Price: ₹ 199.00 INR
Reviewed by: Nandini
Sahu
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Nandini Sahu |
Last month I received the novel as a pleasant surprise; on the first reading, more than one elucidation occurred to me. I put the novel into the genre of ‘Partition Literature’ if I am obligated to. Anyway, I read it from different standpoints – critiquing religion and the misinterpretations thereof; patriarchy; the hypocrisy of a society; border issues; cultural practices of the two countries vis-├а-vis the Two-Nation Theory; and psychoanalysis. One can write pages on all these sensitive issues carefully chosen and diligently highlighted by Singh. Autobiographical elements are very much there, Singh uses those delicately, sensitively, emotionally. In fact, at one point I was green with the narrative of the male child welcomed into the household of Sucha Singh with such aplomb. The novel is such engaging. Singh is that subjectively objective!
I
think there is some Arundhati Roy kind of tonal quality in Singh when he too
talks as the ‘God of small things’.For instance, the enmity and the bonding
between the chickens and the pigeons is the metaphor for human destiny and intricate
relationships. Small things make a real
big deal for Singh. I came across some interesting pigeon episodes and
narratives:
“I
did not know if pigeons could bite fingers like parrots did. Pigeons are the
Gandhis of all avian species..”(p. 270).
“The captive pigeon
rolled its head in my hand. Other pigeons made no hue and cry. Love has gone
cheap today, I said loudly for everyone indoor to hear.”(P. 266)
For
Singh, the personal is political. The motto of the student movement and second-wave feminism from the late 1960s accentuated the links between personal experience
and larger social and political structures of a given society, calling the
practice as the ‘personal is political’. Singh nowhere takes the luxury of
claiming that he is apolitical; in fact, one cannot be apolitical once s/he is
on a public platform. Just that, one’s political agendas need to be clear and
unbiased—and Singh masters this art. Here are a few striking lines:
“ The kings will shake
hands while the minnows will kill each other.’ A shrill voice, faceless, hiding
from behind the gathering of the men, women, and children, was at it,
wisecracking.”( p. 191)
“ You know King Ashoka,
his grandson, he ruled this place from the Magadha—the modern day Bihar in
India. Lately the Afghans, the Mughals,
the Sikhs under Maharaja Ranjit Singh, the British, and now the people
themselves are to rule us. The very democracy that murdered Socrates for
opposing it,’ Manharsinh said.”(p.191)
The
concluding lines of the novel create an elevated emotional panorama. The existential issues of a people victimized
by the partition are narrated as, “The lesser gods of survival. The spirits
hardened by suffering, loss and grief.”(Singh, 293) The racial hatred is
critiqued thus, “It was embarrassing to belong to a place like this at a time
when British India was disintegrating. The time that had caught many a
noble-hearted Salahuddin who might in future gather outside the police station
to bid farewell to the offended people and extend a welcome to the arriving
batches of migrants from India at the same time and in the same breath. The
Ishar Singh-Bachittar Singh Pakistani counterparts form the other side.I
recalled how Shafiquddin had once crooned in praise of revolution. He had
quoted William Wordsworth’s line in the context of the French Revolution,
‘Bliss was that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven!’. The poet
had famously sung in the context.”(Singh, 250) Predictability
in his characterizations, Singh assumes that something is inescapable,
regardless of human dependability and procedures. Apart from being fallacious
in the context of India's partition, this is completely divergent to a political
narrator's way of judgment, where his/her interest perpetually focuses on the realm
of political possibility and the choices made by human beings.
The partition of India was, in fact,
the partition of the two main Muslim-majority provinces, Punjab and Bengal.
There was nothing foreseeable or programmed about this. Until the harsh end,
Mohammad Ali Jinnah emphasized that it was incorrect to associate the theory of
Pakistan with the partition of Punjab and Bengal. The viewpoint of a cohesive
and sovereign Bengal remained a leeway and was scotched very late. Insofar as
nations are predictable communities, the two-nation theory was based on a prejudiced
conviction in the right of the minorities, despite their in-house divisions, to
obtain a considerable share of power in a self-governing India. Such an action-packed
history of the two-nation theory underscores the degree to which there can be a
quick disparity between the arguments of nationhood and the concrete
accomplishments of statehood as and when there is a need of a dialogue between
identity and province—basically between Desha,
Nadu and Rajya as political-cultural
concepts. Gurbir Singh problematizes these abstract and linear concepts which
have been interchangeably, conveniently, convincingly used by the politically
prevailing sections for their benefits.
Gurbir Singh is a
storyteller, an interesting and conversationalist tale-teller. Wit and humour
are things that he uses in his stride. Love being a prime theme of the novel,
Bachittar Singh is kind of a martyr in love, platonic love beyond marriage. He
encourages his son too to get into a love story that will never ever
materialize. There is this love poem from Ms Wishpreet to the narrator:
“if moun-tain can fe-lie
If rivar can dirai
You can for-gate me
But, how can I?”
A cursory look at the
poem might create a few questions in the reader’s mind on the desperate
attempts of freshly independent India to use English as the language of
superior, enhanced communication. The author echoes the ideas of the poem,‘Very
Indian Poem in Indian English’ by Nissim Ezekiel. Gurbir Singh has written this poem in a deceptively lighter vein as an Indian poem, looking at the people around
him through the eyes of a characteristic middle-class Indian.
‘Friendship is a two-way
street’—who understands this better than Singh who has lost so much to
providence, and accomplished his life-blood from relationships? (read friendships) The characters in the novel
sing the saga of perpetual friendships—that is my take away from the story.
Singh has some catchy lines on
love. The characters sound lovelorn in an attention-grabbing etiquette:
“The earth here had
showered all its love on us. Until yesterday, the wind that blew here was
sweeter than anywhere else”. (p. 259)
“A stolen kiss left no
trace of touch behind, unlike our love letters, which always threatened us
those might fall into the wrong hands.” (p.211)
“I observed the hurt that
was within us, in the flesh and in the soul. Our true mettle was in the shadows
outside, and not in the physical bodies.” (p.290)
“Gents with goatees had
no time to complement the shy ladies with goatees for their sheer good looks.
They appeared like knowing in advance their end was only a few days in wait. “(
p. 126)
The
Homecoming Gods is a good read, worth the time
spent on a 300 pages book. The novel can leave an indelible, deep-seated mark
on the reader for sure. Gurbir Singh is here to stay. He has confirmed that in
his maiden novel itself that he belongs.
That, he takes the trade sincerely. And he creates hope in us that there are
more promising books coming from his power-packed pen.
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