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Fire on the Mountain
Nanda Kaul, a woman remote in her self-imposed solitude among the Simla hills of India, her strange and silent great-granddaughter, and the broken old woman who is her only friend are touched in varying ways by the violence of living
145 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1977
90 people are currently reading
3085 people want to read
About the author
Anita Desai
81 books905 followersAnita Desai was born in 1937. Her published works include adult novels, children's books and short stories. She is a member of the Advisory Board for English of the National Academy of Letters in Delhi and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in London. Anita Mazumdar Desai is an Indian novelist and Emeritus John E. Burchard Professor of Humanities at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She has been shortlisted for the Booker prize three times. Her daughter, the author Kiran Desai, is the winner of the 2006 Booker prize.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 159 reviews
June 20, 2025
Set in the idyllic town of Kasauli, in a secluded bungalow named Carignano, Fire on the Mountain is a poignant story of Nanda Kaul. She's a woman, living in a self-imposed solitude among the Simla hills of India - all this until her great-granddaughter, Raka, is dispatched to live with her, which dismays Nanda in the first place due to the fact that her solitude will be endangered.
This is a thoughtfully crafted novel, marked by a classical elegance in its language and a masterful use of literary devices—most notably, "Imagery" - something which invokes vivid descriptions while reading and appeals to the reader's sense, teleporting them to those places, while reading! (which also highlights one required trait of a reader - being able to imagine while reading).
Coming to the language, since this novel was written in 1978, it bears the distinct style of classical literature, rich in nuance and sophistication—a timeless quality that continues to resonate with discerning readers. Another important aspect of the story is the author's contemplative thoughtfulness, reflecting the depth of the narrative.
What was particularly impressive for me, is how, within the span of just 160 pages, the author has deftly explored a range of profound themes:
1. Freedom and its nature
2. Honesty and Self - Reflection
3. Class and Privilege
4. Trauma and Suffering
5. Female Oppression
No wonder that, Anita Desai, the author of this book, is an acclaimed, award-winning novelist. Her literary excellence was formally recognized in 1978 when she received the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award for this very novel—an honor bestowed by the Sahitya Akademi, India’s National Academy of Literature.
However, for me, the most striking elements of this book, was the protagonist's "pursuit of freedom", which she equates with isolation and feels determined to do anything necessary to maintain her autonomy. Yet; and so magnificently, it is her 7-8 year old great-granddaughter, who resuscitates her (mind she's 70-80 years old) by drawing the correct picture in front of her and disabuses her - leading to her enlightenment. A 7 year old child unravelling the real meaning of Freedom to a 80 year old woman - highlighting the fact that her insistence on isolation and solitude was increasingly hollow.
This reversal—where a child enlightens an elderly woman—beautifully underscores the novel’s emotional depth.
4/5 from my side!
This is a thoughtfully crafted novel, marked by a classical elegance in its language and a masterful use of literary devices—most notably, "Imagery" - something which invokes vivid descriptions while reading and appeals to the reader's sense, teleporting them to those places, while reading! (which also highlights one required trait of a reader - being able to imagine while reading).
Coming to the language, since this novel was written in 1978, it bears the distinct style of classical literature, rich in nuance and sophistication—a timeless quality that continues to resonate with discerning readers. Another important aspect of the story is the author's contemplative thoughtfulness, reflecting the depth of the narrative.
What was particularly impressive for me, is how, within the span of just 160 pages, the author has deftly explored a range of profound themes:
1. Freedom and its nature
2. Honesty and Self - Reflection
3. Class and Privilege
4. Trauma and Suffering
5. Female Oppression
No wonder that, Anita Desai, the author of this book, is an acclaimed, award-winning novelist. Her literary excellence was formally recognized in 1978 when she received the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award for this very novel—an honor bestowed by the Sahitya Akademi, India’s National Academy of Literature.
However, for me, the most striking elements of this book, was the protagonist's "pursuit of freedom", which she equates with isolation and feels determined to do anything necessary to maintain her autonomy. Yet; and so magnificently, it is her 7-8 year old great-granddaughter, who resuscitates her (mind she's 70-80 years old) by drawing the correct picture in front of her and disabuses her - leading to her enlightenment. A 7 year old child unravelling the real meaning of Freedom to a 80 year old woman - highlighting the fact that her insistence on isolation and solitude was increasingly hollow.
This reversal—where a child enlightens an elderly woman—beautifully underscores the novel’s emotional depth.
4/5 from my side!
June 4, 2018
Tre donne sole
Anita Desai, autrice di "Fuoco sulla montagna, è considerata la maggior scrittrice indiana contemporanea.
Protagonista del libro è un'anziana signora della ricca borghesia, che ha scelto di ritirarsi in una casa di montagna "aperta al soffio del vento", per una "vita (...) essenziale e radiosamente solitaria".
E' stata moglie, madre di numerosi figli, nonna. Ora "voleva essere lasciata sola con i pini e le cicale".
Il luogo è delineato con scrittura di suggestiva bellezza : "qui le montagne si confondevano con il cielo, il cielo con la neve, la neve con l'aria" ; "il panorama aveva un respiro straordinario, una vasta e sconvolgente profondità". Da lassù, "le colline erano onde nere nella notte, e i villaggi e le città sembravano navi illuminate sul mare".
Quella vastità sottostante, però, brulicava di una vita fatta di povertà e arretratezza socio-culturale. Solo qualche notizia della brutale realtà giunge fin lassù attraverso un'amica d'infanzia, da tempo passata dal privilegio all'indigenza.
L'esistenza riserva sorprese : l'anziana signora, che abbiamo conosciuto "impettita nella sua poltrona" o mentre "andava su e giù nel giardino al crepuscolo, con l'orlo del sari che scivolava sui sassi ", inaspettatamente deve ospitare per un periodo indeterminato una bambina, sua pronipote.
Col procedere del romanzo, le relazioni fra le tre figure femminili così diverse entreranno in primo piano.
Con grande finezza di analisi e di rappresentazione, le vicende si faranno sempre più incalzanti, fino a giungere a un sorprendente finale, in cui paiono confluire, in modo inatteso, i destini paralleli di queste donne sole.
Anita Desai, autrice di "Fuoco sulla montagna, è considerata la maggior scrittrice indiana contemporanea.
Protagonista del libro è un'anziana signora della ricca borghesia, che ha scelto di ritirarsi in una casa di montagna "aperta al soffio del vento", per una "vita (...) essenziale e radiosamente solitaria".
E' stata moglie, madre di numerosi figli, nonna. Ora "voleva essere lasciata sola con i pini e le cicale".
Il luogo è delineato con scrittura di suggestiva bellezza : "qui le montagne si confondevano con il cielo, il cielo con la neve, la neve con l'aria" ; "il panorama aveva un respiro straordinario, una vasta e sconvolgente profondità". Da lassù, "le colline erano onde nere nella notte, e i villaggi e le città sembravano navi illuminate sul mare".
Quella vastità sottostante, però, brulicava di una vita fatta di povertà e arretratezza socio-culturale. Solo qualche notizia della brutale realtà giunge fin lassù attraverso un'amica d'infanzia, da tempo passata dal privilegio all'indigenza.
L'esistenza riserva sorprese : l'anziana signora, che abbiamo conosciuto "impettita nella sua poltrona" o mentre "andava su e giù nel giardino al crepuscolo, con l'orlo del sari che scivolava sui sassi ", inaspettatamente deve ospitare per un periodo indeterminato una bambina, sua pronipote.
Col procedere del romanzo, le relazioni fra le tre figure femminili così diverse entreranno in primo piano.
Con grande finezza di analisi e di rappresentazione, le vicende si faranno sempre più incalzanti, fino a giungere a un sorprendente finale, in cui paiono confluire, in modo inatteso, i destini paralleli di queste donne sole.
December 24, 2020
The only consolation for me is that the book brings well into perspective the life in a hill town.
There are 3 parts :
I. Nanda Kaul at Carignano
II. Raka comes to Carignano
III. Ila Das leaves Carignano
It is the story of a retired, old aged widow Nanda Kaur living alone at Carignano in a hill town of Kasauli. Her family and friends keep in touch with her through phone calls and letters but she has no enthusiasm of being an active part of their lives as long as she is left alone in the house. Then comes Raka, her great-granddaughter, who has been sent to stay with her due to a recent illness as her mother got caught up with her own health issues. Nanda was reluctant to get acquainted with Raka at first but as time went on, she felt the need to impress the child and get close to her. In the process, she ends up telling fabricated stories of the past.
Ila is a close childhood friend of Nanda. Out of the blue, she invited herself to pay a visit after so many years.
One of the character gets brutally murdered at the end of the book.
I didn't like this book as the story seems really scattered. The characters seem a bit alienated and detached till the end except Ila. It is one of the first books which I felt necessary to skip passages after passages and doing such actually made no difference to the story flow whatsoever.
The main characters seem disoriented & character portrayal is really weak.
Even if the book has only 159 pages, it is a laborious read with much more emphasis on word musings (pages and pages of it!) which are really distracting.
There was no evolvement in the nature of the main characters which made it difficult to make the reader attached to them. The prose is not poetic nor plain anywhere as it aims to be. I guess the author was trying too hard to write something poetic and whimsical kind of writing but it just didn't do anything for me.
The ending was abrupt like the author just wanted to end the book suddenly when the story begins to interest the reader.
(yes, it's a cover buy for me and I do regret buying it full price)
There are 3 parts :
I. Nanda Kaul at Carignano
II. Raka comes to Carignano
III. Ila Das leaves Carignano
It is the story of a retired, old aged widow Nanda Kaur living alone at Carignano in a hill town of Kasauli. Her family and friends keep in touch with her through phone calls and letters but she has no enthusiasm of being an active part of their lives as long as she is left alone in the house. Then comes Raka, her great-granddaughter, who has been sent to stay with her due to a recent illness as her mother got caught up with her own health issues. Nanda was reluctant to get acquainted with Raka at first but as time went on, she felt the need to impress the child and get close to her. In the process, she ends up telling fabricated stories of the past.
Ila is a close childhood friend of Nanda. Out of the blue, she invited herself to pay a visit after so many years.
One of the character gets brutally murdered at the end of the book.
I didn't like this book as the story seems really scattered. The characters seem a bit alienated and detached till the end except Ila. It is one of the first books which I felt necessary to skip passages after passages and doing such actually made no difference to the story flow whatsoever.
The main characters seem disoriented & character portrayal is really weak.
Even if the book has only 159 pages, it is a laborious read with much more emphasis on word musings (pages and pages of it!) which are really distracting.
There was no evolvement in the nature of the main characters which made it difficult to make the reader attached to them. The prose is not poetic nor plain anywhere as it aims to be. I guess the author was trying too hard to write something poetic and whimsical kind of writing but it just didn't do anything for me.
The ending was abrupt like the author just wanted to end the book suddenly when the story begins to interest the reader.
(yes, it's a cover buy for me and I do regret buying it full price)
May 14, 2024
After years of running a loud, busy and crowded household as the wife of a university vice-chancellor, and raising many children and grandchildren, Nanda Kaul settles herself away in the picturesque town of Kasauli in an infamous house called Carignano. Alone—with the exception of Ram Lal, her old servant, she indulges herself in that which she's craved for years and hardly ever found: solitude. In Carignano, she reads her books, meditates, recollects, and enjoys the solitary peace she's found in old age. That is until her great-grandchild, Raka, and a childhood friend, Ila Das, unsettle her peace in different ways.
At first when the news of Raka's arrival is discovered, Nanda broods over the demands a child would place on her, but soon realizes that Raka–just like her–desires solitude above all else, preferring the company and stories of Ram Lal. Her ways change then and she tries to include a reluctant Raka into her stories and memories. Then Ila Das, a daughter of an upper-class family gone to financial ruin, and currently working as a government official in the area, also intrudes when she pays Nanda a visit, bearing memories precious to both her and a reluctant Nanda.
Anita Desai has a brilliant way of writing about the inner lives of her characters. All of the main characters, with the exception of the young Raka, reflect on their different pasts. Her writing, deceptively simple and crisp, turns them out and pulls them back into their settings. Then with great subtlety she writes of important matters such as colonization and its effects, class and how it shapes lives, gender violence, and others, so that they're perfectly enmeshed into the narrative without unsettling the story itself. The characters here need different things from each other, which mostly requires inconvenience and disruption from the other, and creates conflict brilliantly portrayed by Desai. It's only Ram Lal, who can't properly interact with the others due to class barrier, that seems to be completely (emotionally) independent.
This particular book interested me because Desai mentioned in an interview how this was the book through which she finally found her artistic voice. I haven't read the books that precede it and so I don't have the material to compare, but her interest in the forlorn and marginal in society, her mastery of language and enviable control of narrative, encountered in the later works, are all here. The only difference – I think – being that the tragic ending of this story, which felt abrupt, and blatantly and calculatedly done—and so stands out compared to the rest of the story, would have been handled differently by an older Desai. An incredible story all the same.
At first when the news of Raka's arrival is discovered, Nanda broods over the demands a child would place on her, but soon realizes that Raka–just like her–desires solitude above all else, preferring the company and stories of Ram Lal. Her ways change then and she tries to include a reluctant Raka into her stories and memories. Then Ila Das, a daughter of an upper-class family gone to financial ruin, and currently working as a government official in the area, also intrudes when she pays Nanda a visit, bearing memories precious to both her and a reluctant Nanda.
Anita Desai has a brilliant way of writing about the inner lives of her characters. All of the main characters, with the exception of the young Raka, reflect on their different pasts. Her writing, deceptively simple and crisp, turns them out and pulls them back into their settings. Then with great subtlety she writes of important matters such as colonization and its effects, class and how it shapes lives, gender violence, and others, so that they're perfectly enmeshed into the narrative without unsettling the story itself. The characters here need different things from each other, which mostly requires inconvenience and disruption from the other, and creates conflict brilliantly portrayed by Desai. It's only Ram Lal, who can't properly interact with the others due to class barrier, that seems to be completely (emotionally) independent.
This particular book interested me because Desai mentioned in an interview how this was the book through which she finally found her artistic voice. I haven't read the books that precede it and so I don't have the material to compare, but her interest in the forlorn and marginal in society, her mastery of language and enviable control of narrative, encountered in the later works, are all here. The only difference – I think – being that the tragic ending of this story, which felt abrupt, and blatantly and calculatedly done—and so stands out compared to the rest of the story, would have been handled differently by an older Desai. An incredible story all the same.
April 15, 2018
The purple-hued plains of the Punjab as seen via the foothills of the Himalaya’s; the encroaching of modernity on the arcadia of Shimla; the relationship between two irascible, stubborn characters, separated by several generations, who are mirror images of one another, one who has experienced all of life’s disillusions and one who has yet to experience them but is still weighed down by a life of disappointment and disenchantment.
Desai is able to beautifully render the area around Shimla in which the story is set. From the chatter of the cicadas to the orange-tinted reflection of the sunlight in the early morning on the hillsides, to the ethereal dream-like atmosphere of the forests, where the colouration of the sun-light on the lakes and streams, there is a kind of fairy tale magic to the setting;
“The sun shone on it’s white walls. It’s windows were open-the ones facing north opened onto the blue waves of the Himalayas flow out and up to the line of ice and show sketched upon the sky, while those that faced south looked down upon the plunging cliff to the plain stretching out, flat and sere, to the blurred horizon.”
If the story itself superficially resembles a fairy tale trope; cantankerous old woman whose life is enlivened by the arrival of a spirited great-granddaughter, then the reality of the novel soon jolts the reader out of this reverie. Instead it is the grand-mother Nanda who seeks to rescue Raka out of her insularity and insularity which, like Nanda’s is borne out of the disillusionment from coming from a broken family which does not understand her. However, Raka lacks Nanda’s-potentially fictional-idyllic childhood. Whereas Nanda has the memories of her father and some outlandish make believe about pet bears to fall back on, Raka only has a neurotic mother and abusive father, a life-time of displacement brought about by years travelling around the world due to her father’s career as a diplomat. In contrast Nanda’s disillusions stem from her adult life, an unhappy, loveless marriage, children who she doesn’t care for and who don’t care for her, the societal burdens and expectations placed upon her to be a good wife and mother, all of these contribute to her hermit like existence which is occasionally punctuated by her eccentric if pathetic friend Ila Das.
That is until Raka enters her life, whose insouciance and inertia reminder her so much of her own personality, whose rejections of her approach at friendship and intimacy she finds deeply hurtful and whose actions lead the novel-and presumably their lives- to it’s violent and fiery conclusions.
Desai is able to beautifully render the area around Shimla in which the story is set. From the chatter of the cicadas to the orange-tinted reflection of the sunlight in the early morning on the hillsides, to the ethereal dream-like atmosphere of the forests, where the colouration of the sun-light on the lakes and streams, there is a kind of fairy tale magic to the setting;
“The sun shone on it’s white walls. It’s windows were open-the ones facing north opened onto the blue waves of the Himalayas flow out and up to the line of ice and show sketched upon the sky, while those that faced south looked down upon the plunging cliff to the plain stretching out, flat and sere, to the blurred horizon.”
If the story itself superficially resembles a fairy tale trope; cantankerous old woman whose life is enlivened by the arrival of a spirited great-granddaughter, then the reality of the novel soon jolts the reader out of this reverie. Instead it is the grand-mother Nanda who seeks to rescue Raka out of her insularity and insularity which, like Nanda’s is borne out of the disillusionment from coming from a broken family which does not understand her. However, Raka lacks Nanda’s-potentially fictional-idyllic childhood. Whereas Nanda has the memories of her father and some outlandish make believe about pet bears to fall back on, Raka only has a neurotic mother and abusive father, a life-time of displacement brought about by years travelling around the world due to her father’s career as a diplomat. In contrast Nanda’s disillusions stem from her adult life, an unhappy, loveless marriage, children who she doesn’t care for and who don’t care for her, the societal burdens and expectations placed upon her to be a good wife and mother, all of these contribute to her hermit like existence which is occasionally punctuated by her eccentric if pathetic friend Ila Das.
That is until Raka enters her life, whose insouciance and inertia reminder her so much of her own personality, whose rejections of her approach at friendship and intimacy she finds deeply hurtful and whose actions lead the novel-and presumably their lives- to it’s violent and fiery conclusions.
February 4, 2017
Length
~ A Novella
Perfect for ~ A rainy day with drink of choice
Your mood to match ~ Sombre
Rating ~ 5 vanilla frosted cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles
Why this book caught my eye~
The desire to break free and clear your life of all the clutter, the screechy irritations of the modern age in which we continually find ourselves inexplicably connected with the rest of the world via the internet of things, awaken forbidden wishes within us-more often than we would like- to run away from it all.
Nanda Kaul does just that, and when I read the back of the book, that's what attracted me. The perfect retirement plan from being a mother, a wife and the rest of the duties the society expects, or at least excepted from a woman back in the day, a few years after India's independence. In that attraction, the book did not disappoint. Nanda Kaul was inscrutably content, that is, till her great- grandchild arrived.
The people you'll read about~
As you would have guessed, Nanda Kaul is not your average great-grandmommy- all love and baked gingerbread cookies, no.
She doesn't want to be disturbed. But then her wary aloofness and nonchalance and want of solitude has apparently skipped two generations. As her great-grandchild Raka displays even stronger signs of wanting to be left alone, Nanda Kaul starts to become uncharacteristically clingy. She wants to pull the quiet moonchild out of her shell. She starts down the path of experimental storytelling, making up tall claims about her childhood and the home she knew as a young girl.
Raka is connected to nature in a way most of us fail to achieve. She is restless to get her hands dirty exploring the mountains and wild paths of Kasauli. Raka is not drawn to her namesake moon, as much she is drawn to the chaos and destruction of brilliant fires that the forests are prone to.
The story of Ila Das made me break down and cry and it climaxed towards the very end of the novel in a way that would make a readers' heart twist and head pound. No, I am still in half denial. The still quiet of the novel, weighed down with memories, stories, feelings and rare speech, is broken by the sudden vicious thorn plunged in its amidst.
Why this novel shines out~
This novel is different from most others in a way that it is fast paced not in actions, but in the speedy transitions of human thoughts. The descriptions of the cantonment established in the times of British Raj are vivid and run like a movie. Anita Desai grounds the demented and tortured strands of life in a way that is refreshingly beautiful.
Perfect for ~ A rainy day with drink of choice
Your mood to match ~ Sombre
Rating ~ 5 vanilla frosted cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles
Why this book caught my eye~
The desire to break free and clear your life of all the clutter, the screechy irritations of the modern age in which we continually find ourselves inexplicably connected with the rest of the world via the internet of things, awaken forbidden wishes within us-more often than we would like- to run away from it all.
Nanda Kaul does just that, and when I read the back of the book, that's what attracted me. The perfect retirement plan from being a mother, a wife and the rest of the duties the society expects, or at least excepted from a woman back in the day, a few years after India's independence. In that attraction, the book did not disappoint. Nanda Kaul was inscrutably content, that is, till her great- grandchild arrived.
The people you'll read about~
As you would have guessed, Nanda Kaul is not your average great-grandmommy- all love and baked gingerbread cookies, no.
She doesn't want to be disturbed. But then her wary aloofness and nonchalance and want of solitude has apparently skipped two generations. As her great-grandchild Raka displays even stronger signs of wanting to be left alone, Nanda Kaul starts to become uncharacteristically clingy. She wants to pull the quiet moonchild out of her shell. She starts down the path of experimental storytelling, making up tall claims about her childhood and the home she knew as a young girl.
Raka is connected to nature in a way most of us fail to achieve. She is restless to get her hands dirty exploring the mountains and wild paths of Kasauli. Raka is not drawn to her namesake moon, as much she is drawn to the chaos and destruction of brilliant fires that the forests are prone to.
The story of Ila Das made me break down and cry and it climaxed towards the very end of the novel in a way that would make a readers' heart twist and head pound. No, I am still in half denial. The still quiet of the novel, weighed down with memories, stories, feelings and rare speech, is broken by the sudden vicious thorn plunged in its amidst.
Why this novel shines out~
This novel is different from most others in a way that it is fast paced not in actions, but in the speedy transitions of human thoughts. The descriptions of the cantonment established in the times of British Raj are vivid and run like a movie. Anita Desai grounds the demented and tortured strands of life in a way that is refreshingly beautiful.
January 9, 2016
Anita Desai is such an underrated writer. Sometimes I feel she wrote her books four to five decades too early to gain the kind of appreciation and recognition that writers receive today. She is one of the very few Indian authors who wrote in the English language in the 60s. Her style of writing, her prose has the ability to carry the reader into a different world all together. In this book the author describes Carignano with such detailed precision (the pine trees, the valley behind the house, the cicadas and the apricot trees) that one actually feels being physically present at this retreat. A peculiar trait amongst all her character from several books is 'Solitude'. Be it Nanda Kaul from this book, Baumgartner from Baumgartner's Bombay, Bim from Clear Light of Day or Ravi from The Artist of Disappearance, all of these characters seem to rather enjoy their solitude. It is surprising how these characters draw strength to live from their solitude.
December 13, 2024
The story starts off with a dazzling view of the mountains around Kasauli. The description is also so vivid about the relaxed and idyllic life of an old lady and her enchanting mountain house. The words expressed from the view point of the lady, Nanda Kaul conjures a fantastic visual image in the mind.
"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍. 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒘, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒇𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔. 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕, 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒖𝒍-𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒛𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 – 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆-𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒔."
For a die hard fan of Ruskin Bond and his Himalayan landscapes, the story seemed too good. It was almost mesmerizing and I was all set for a yet another journey into the lovely Himalayan lore. With a very elaborate description of people and situations with subtle humor interspersed, it started conjuring a reality in my mind as I keep reading the lines.
"𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕, 𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆-𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒌, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔."
The story takes off with the impending arrival of the great-grand daughter, a child of tender age purportedly sent to recuperate in the mountains. This throws the pebble in Nanda's still life and puts her in a mildly agitated state. As the girl - Raki - arrives, the disconnect they both have is unsettling and uncomfortable to Nanda.
"𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏."
As Raki settles in, the view from the eyes of the Child slowly injects a dose of reality into the narrative.
"𝑺𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒈 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕-𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕. 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓, 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔, 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆."
As the story evolves, with Nanda's Friend Ila das coming over for a visit, the paint is slowly peeled away, offering the glimpses of reality. The end however shocking and abrupt it is, completely peels the veneer and is a revelation for the readers.
In the end, the Book is no benign narration like that of the Ruskin Bond's but completely opposite that shows people as they are. A haunting read that leaves one gasping and also at the same time makes them wonder at the brilliance that the author has displayed. The story is as slick and elusive as the Yellow snake Raki sees basking on the rock.
"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍. 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒘, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒇𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔. 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕, 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒖𝒍-𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒛𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 – 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆-𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒔."
For a die hard fan of Ruskin Bond and his Himalayan landscapes, the story seemed too good. It was almost mesmerizing and I was all set for a yet another journey into the lovely Himalayan lore. With a very elaborate description of people and situations with subtle humor interspersed, it started conjuring a reality in my mind as I keep reading the lines.
"𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕, 𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆-𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒌, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔."
The story takes off with the impending arrival of the great-grand daughter, a child of tender age purportedly sent to recuperate in the mountains. This throws the pebble in Nanda's still life and puts her in a mildly agitated state. As the girl - Raki - arrives, the disconnect they both have is unsettling and uncomfortable to Nanda.
"𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏."
As Raki settles in, the view from the eyes of the Child slowly injects a dose of reality into the narrative.
"𝑺𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒈 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕-𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕. 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓, 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔, 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆."
As the story evolves, with Nanda's Friend Ila das coming over for a visit, the paint is slowly peeled away, offering the glimpses of reality. The end however shocking and abrupt it is, completely peels the veneer and is a revelation for the readers.
In the end, the Book is no benign narration like that of the Ruskin Bond's but completely opposite that shows people as they are. A haunting read that leaves one gasping and also at the same time makes them wonder at the brilliance that the author has displayed. The story is as slick and elusive as the Yellow snake Raki sees basking on the rock.
May 3, 2012
I was enjoying this so much, I was loving this and it made me happy as I read it, and then I reached the ending and I became bitter. That familiar feeling of loathing I held for so long towards ignorance and men rose like bile up my throat. I hate people. I hate men, specifically. I hate the way this book led me up to something happy and then dashed me down into something depressing.
I think I've given away to much there. But what else was I expecting from Desai? She does that, doesn't she, I'm a bit annoyed at her. As her reader, I feel as though she's played a nasty little trick on me.
I don't care to give a synopsis, why should I? It was all a charade for the ending. :(
I AM being rather histrionic, I know, but I was happy, and then I was pushed over into the reality of life.
There was fire in the mountains indeed, I was just too distracted by unraveling beauty to see it.
I think I've given away to much there. But what else was I expecting from Desai? She does that, doesn't she, I'm a bit annoyed at her. As her reader, I feel as though she's played a nasty little trick on me.
I don't care to give a synopsis, why should I? It was all a charade for the ending. :(
I AM being rather histrionic, I know, but I was happy, and then I was pushed over into the reality of life.
There was fire in the mountains indeed, I was just too distracted by unraveling beauty to see it.
September 4, 2020
For some reason I thought this book would make a nice cosy read for a rainy evening. Could I have been more wrong?!
Fire on the Mountain is largely about an aging Nanda Kul who just wants to spend the last years of her life in peace, without having to bother about any friends or relatives.
Her idyllic life is shaken up a little when her great-grand-daughter is packed off to her. There are some interesting scenes about the kid spending her time in the wild. Some of it is tedious and boring.
It's the ending that totally put me off. It had nothing to do with anything. It was just sooooo fucking out of the blue and contrived that I wonder what the author was thinking. It's a tragedy that just makes no sense. Which is fine. Life doesn't make sense, I get it. But the climax has nothing to do with Nanda Kul's stupid idyllic life up in the mountains and Desai should have given us a better story and build up.
DISAPPOINTED.
I don't want to give spoilers so I won't reveal what was so idiotic about the book.
Fire on the Mountain is largely about an aging Nanda Kul who just wants to spend the last years of her life in peace, without having to bother about any friends or relatives.
Her idyllic life is shaken up a little when her great-grand-daughter is packed off to her. There are some interesting scenes about the kid spending her time in the wild. Some of it is tedious and boring.
It's the ending that totally put me off. It had nothing to do with anything. It was just sooooo fucking out of the blue and contrived that I wonder what the author was thinking. It's a tragedy that just makes no sense. Which is fine. Life doesn't make sense, I get it. But the climax has nothing to do with Nanda Kul's stupid idyllic life up in the mountains and Desai should have given us a better story and build up.
DISAPPOINTED.
I don't want to give spoilers so I won't reveal what was so idiotic about the book.
April 28, 2016
Nanda Kaul is contentedly living out her twilight years in near-isolation in the Indian hillstation of Kasauli, until she receives a letter from her daughter advising that Nanda's great-granddaughter, Raka, is coming to stay. Neither Nanda nor Raka is happy with this state of affairs, but Nanda is the first to thaw. A visit from Nanda's childhood friend, Ila Das, provides some gentle comic relief as well as the set-up for the shocking climax to this story.
Actually, that's about all that happens, but the treasure of this book is in Anita Desai's delicious, descriptive prose. She paints a picture of Kasauli that I can see so clearly, and the three main characters are so well-drawn that they really don't need to do very much.
On Kasauli:
It was the ravaged, destroyed and barren spaces in Kasauli that drew her: the ravine where yellow snakes slept under grey rocks and agaves growing out of the dust and rubble, the skeletal pines that rattled in the wind, the wind-levelled hilltops and the seared remains of the safe, cosy, civilized world in which Raka had no part and to which she owed no attachment.
On Ila Das:
It was this cackle, this scream of hers, Nanda Kaul thought, that held all the assorted pieces of her life together like a string or chain. It was the motif of her life, unmistakably. Such a voice no human being ought to have had: it was anti-social to possess, to emit such sounds as poor Ila Das made by way of communication.
And finally, Raka's pain at having to sit through afternoon tea with the two old women shines through:
Raka wilted. She hung her arms between her knees and drooped her head on its thin stalk. It seemed the old ladies were going to play, all afternoon, that game of old age - that reconstructing, block by gilded block, of the castle of childhood, so ramshackle and precarious, and of stuffing it with that dolls' house furniture, those impossibly gilded red velvet sofas and painted bedsteads, that always smelt of dust and mice and that she had never cared to play with.
This was my first time reading Anita Desai, but it won't be my last.
Actually, that's about all that happens, but the treasure of this book is in Anita Desai's delicious, descriptive prose. She paints a picture of Kasauli that I can see so clearly, and the three main characters are so well-drawn that they really don't need to do very much.
On Kasauli:
It was the ravaged, destroyed and barren spaces in Kasauli that drew her: the ravine where yellow snakes slept under grey rocks and agaves growing out of the dust and rubble, the skeletal pines that rattled in the wind, the wind-levelled hilltops and the seared remains of the safe, cosy, civilized world in which Raka had no part and to which she owed no attachment.
On Ila Das:
It was this cackle, this scream of hers, Nanda Kaul thought, that held all the assorted pieces of her life together like a string or chain. It was the motif of her life, unmistakably. Such a voice no human being ought to have had: it was anti-social to possess, to emit such sounds as poor Ila Das made by way of communication.
And finally, Raka's pain at having to sit through afternoon tea with the two old women shines through:
Raka wilted. She hung her arms between her knees and drooped her head on its thin stalk. It seemed the old ladies were going to play, all afternoon, that game of old age - that reconstructing, block by gilded block, of the castle of childhood, so ramshackle and precarious, and of stuffing it with that dolls' house furniture, those impossibly gilded red velvet sofas and painted bedsteads, that always smelt of dust and mice and that she had never cared to play with.
This was my first time reading Anita Desai, but it won't be my last.
January 28, 2018
تلاشی بود برای نشون دادن فرهنگ و زندگی مردم هند و مخصوصا وضعیت زن ها، که خیلی ناموفق بود. نویسنده حجمی از اطلاعات رو در صفحه های آخر به خواننده تزریق می کنه که نه دیگه می تونه به پیش برد داستان کمکی کنه نه ارزشی نداره.
July 21, 2022
La storia si svolge alle pendici dell’Himalaya in una casa in posizione isolata e immersa in una natura rigogliosa. Qui vive l’anziana Nanda Kaul, amante della solitudine, dopo una vita faticosa passata a gestire la numerosa famiglia. “Aveva tutto ciò che voleva, […] in quella tranquilla dimora. Era il luogo, la fase dell’esistenza che aveva desiderato e preparato per tutta la vita […]. Non voleva nessuno, non voleva nient’altro. Qualunque cosa fosse sopraggiunta o accaduta, sarebbe stata un’intromissione indesiderata, un fastidio.”
A un certo punto la solitudine di Nanda viene disturbata dall’arrivo di Raka, una bambina strana e solitaria, simile a “un insetto”. Anche Raka non gradisce molto la convivenza con la bisnonna e passa le giornate a esplorare i bellissimi paesaggi dei dintorni, un tripudio di fiori, piante e animali esotici, ma rovinati qua e là da rifiuti, cenere e tronchi carbonizzati dai frequenti incendi boschivi.
La trama è incentrata su loro due fino a quando viene in visita un’anziana amica di Nanda e sullo sfondo dei suoi racconti affiora l’India delle spose bambine e delle pratiche curative stregonesche.
Per quasi tutto il libro succede ben poco o niente, poi nelle ultime pagine il ritmo accelera in un finale drammatico. Anita Desai ha una prosa delicata e coinvolgente, con la speciale capacità di evocare immagini e atmosfere. Lo consiglio a chi non cerca l’azione a ogni costo.
A un certo punto la solitudine di Nanda viene disturbata dall’arrivo di Raka, una bambina strana e solitaria, simile a “un insetto”. Anche Raka non gradisce molto la convivenza con la bisnonna e passa le giornate a esplorare i bellissimi paesaggi dei dintorni, un tripudio di fiori, piante e animali esotici, ma rovinati qua e là da rifiuti, cenere e tronchi carbonizzati dai frequenti incendi boschivi.
La trama è incentrata su loro due fino a quando viene in visita un’anziana amica di Nanda e sullo sfondo dei suoi racconti affiora l’India delle spose bambine e delle pratiche curative stregonesche.
Per quasi tutto il libro succede ben poco o niente, poi nelle ultime pagine il ritmo accelera in un finale drammatico. Anita Desai ha una prosa delicata e coinvolgente, con la speciale capacità di evocare immagini e atmosfere. Lo consiglio a chi non cerca l’azione a ogni costo.
October 6, 2025
4.5 stars
Nanda Kaul, living alone with a help Ram Lal in Kasauli, is given the burden of looking after her great-granddaughter Raka for one summer. And Nanda who likes her solitary life is irritated with this responsibility and wants nothing to do with it. But Raka turns out to be like her, who avoids the company of people and is on her own solitary wanderings. The whole novel is a push and pull between solitude and socializing. And the last part shows us the actual Nanda, her friendship with Ila Das, their childhood and all.
Life is hard for every single living being and we live in our own make-believe. Beautiful setting, picturesque narration and characters as real as humans.
I had read this book many years ago, maybe 20 years ago. I remember the feeling this story left in me. The old lady Nanda living alone in a cottage on the hills, dreading first the arrival of her great grand daughter and then interacting with her. I had forgotten the last part and how the story ended, looks like only the good parts remained as a residue.
Happy Reading!!
Nanda Kaul, living alone with a help Ram Lal in Kasauli, is given the burden of looking after her great-granddaughter Raka for one summer. And Nanda who likes her solitary life is irritated with this responsibility and wants nothing to do with it. But Raka turns out to be like her, who avoids the company of people and is on her own solitary wanderings. The whole novel is a push and pull between solitude and socializing. And the last part shows us the actual Nanda, her friendship with Ila Das, their childhood and all.
Life is hard for every single living being and we live in our own make-believe. Beautiful setting, picturesque narration and characters as real as humans.
I had read this book many years ago, maybe 20 years ago. I remember the feeling this story left in me. The old lady Nanda living alone in a cottage on the hills, dreading first the arrival of her great grand daughter and then interacting with her. I had forgotten the last part and how the story ended, looks like only the good parts remained as a residue.
Happy Reading!!
February 24, 2022
After a lifetime of serving others, Nanda Kaul retreats to a life of solitude in the mountains. Her independence is shattered by the arrival of a great-grand-daughter, a girl who turns out to love solitary explorations even more than her great-grandmother does.
Not much happens in this very short novel however Desai moved me with the characters she created, with her descriptions of the natural world and the ease with which she moved from dark comedy to tragedy. I know this book will linger on in my mind for some time to come. This was the first Desai I've read and I'm looking forward to reading more of her work.
Not much happens in this very short novel however Desai moved me with the characters she created, with her descriptions of the natural world and the ease with which she moved from dark comedy to tragedy. I know this book will linger on in my mind for some time to come. This was the first Desai I've read and I'm looking forward to reading more of her work.
July 15, 2017
Desai's prose echoes the quiet setting of this short novel. In the backdrop of mountain terrain and cool breeze, the elderly protagonist unearths deeply rooted emotions from her past when her great-granddaughter arrives. The two women with wealth of time separating them, find themselves to be more alike than initially expected. There is a free spirit in all of us and Desai's writing calls out to that. In that aspect, Desai succeeds in telling a story about women whose ending can be anything but tragic and their lives, rich.
December 4, 2011
The painstakingly created solitude of a Nanda Kaul is suddenly disturbed when her great granddaughter is sent to her for recuperation. Discomfort soon turns to tenderness when the little one proves to be different from assumptions. A simple story but Desai's skill at describing the life in the hills of Kasauli and the sparse descriptions are going to be etched in memory for a long long time!
April 6, 2013
Anita Desai so far is one of the very few writers who is able to directly influence my mood through their work. Should you see a tragic end, you too would feel so; if it were a heart-warming end, you too would be smiling. I really felt my mood change at the culmination scene. Such an amazing writer she is! Such a gripping tale this is. If not for anyone else, it was certainly relatable to me.
The opening scene greets us with a postman trekking upwards towards a home in the hilly area of Kasuali. Living in that quiet, secluded house is Nanda Kaul, who had had so hectic a life when she was young. She had renounced everything and had settled in this place, much like an ascetic, scarcely with any worldly connections. Her children, and their children would call, at times, even which she thought as an intrusion to her secrecy and quiet living. In such a scenario the letter arrives announcing havoc in her life: her great-grandchild Raka will be arriving to spend her summer holidays with Nanda. She shivers. She was torn; afraid that her secrecy and her solitude will get disturbed; that she will be reduced to the same life--looking after another soul--which she had had much and thus resigned to this life. She certainly disliked this unwanted onus to look after her grandchild, but it was inevitable.
So, Raka arrives. Initially, Nanda customarily, without real connection, embraces her grandchild. But to her own surprise, Raka was unlike any other kid she had ever seen. She never demanded anything; never spoke, asked for anything. She almost saw her own self in the child. The child would resort to lonely walks along the hills, down-slope she'd go alone and would return. It felt good for Nanda that somehow her quiet resigned life was left spared. As days went on, she felt an indefinable connection with the child that she should, much to the dismay of the child, start authoritatively interacting with her. Ram was the only cook Nanda has had - the only other human being around her. She felt jealous that Ram quite naturally bonded well with the child compared to her.
It is amidst these happenings--both the ladies trying to understand each other; self-exploring--would arrive Nanda's friend Ila Das. She was a club-footed woman with coarse, shrilly voice that shooed away even the birds. She was a chatterbox, whose presence irritated both the child and the great-grandmother. Ila prattled on, to the child, about their childhood and such, which dismayed both. She would stay for the tea and would leave them that night. She was way too excited to having met Nanda, whom she sees after so many years. She was a social worker (welfare officer) who struggles, with her meagre Govt. salary, to make ends meet. She narrated some stories of the village that she works in such as their superstitious life which leads to death (these people were blinded by a selfish priest who dissuaded the idea of going to doctors), of child marriages and such. And just the day before, she would say, she had advised a person who, for a piece of land and two cattle, was ready to marry off her 7-year-old daughter to a wealthy old man. The priest had started to stir negative feelings of the villagers towards Ila as she interfered in his illegal business of deceiving people into magic and gaining money. That night, as she returns home all alone, something significant happens. The novel ends with Nanda receiving a phone call about Ila.
This novel is such a marvelous piece of work from Anita Desai. It touches upon innumerable subjects--jealousy, craving, longing for privacy, self-exploration, superstitions, judging humans and such sensitive subjects. Such an emotional novel. A must read!
The opening scene greets us with a postman trekking upwards towards a home in the hilly area of Kasuali. Living in that quiet, secluded house is Nanda Kaul, who had had so hectic a life when she was young. She had renounced everything and had settled in this place, much like an ascetic, scarcely with any worldly connections. Her children, and their children would call, at times, even which she thought as an intrusion to her secrecy and quiet living. In such a scenario the letter arrives announcing havoc in her life: her great-grandchild Raka will be arriving to spend her summer holidays with Nanda. She shivers. She was torn; afraid that her secrecy and her solitude will get disturbed; that she will be reduced to the same life--looking after another soul--which she had had much and thus resigned to this life. She certainly disliked this unwanted onus to look after her grandchild, but it was inevitable.
So, Raka arrives. Initially, Nanda customarily, without real connection, embraces her grandchild. But to her own surprise, Raka was unlike any other kid she had ever seen. She never demanded anything; never spoke, asked for anything. She almost saw her own self in the child. The child would resort to lonely walks along the hills, down-slope she'd go alone and would return. It felt good for Nanda that somehow her quiet resigned life was left spared. As days went on, she felt an indefinable connection with the child that she should, much to the dismay of the child, start authoritatively interacting with her. Ram was the only cook Nanda has had - the only other human being around her. She felt jealous that Ram quite naturally bonded well with the child compared to her.
It is amidst these happenings--both the ladies trying to understand each other; self-exploring--would arrive Nanda's friend Ila Das. She was a club-footed woman with coarse, shrilly voice that shooed away even the birds. She was a chatterbox, whose presence irritated both the child and the great-grandmother. Ila prattled on, to the child, about their childhood and such, which dismayed both. She would stay for the tea and would leave them that night. She was way too excited to having met Nanda, whom she sees after so many years. She was a social worker (welfare officer) who struggles, with her meagre Govt. salary, to make ends meet. She narrated some stories of the village that she works in such as their superstitious life which leads to death (these people were blinded by a selfish priest who dissuaded the idea of going to doctors), of child marriages and such. And just the day before, she would say, she had advised a person who, for a piece of land and two cattle, was ready to marry off her 7-year-old daughter to a wealthy old man. The priest had started to stir negative feelings of the villagers towards Ila as she interfered in his illegal business of deceiving people into magic and gaining money. That night, as she returns home all alone, something significant happens. The novel ends with Nanda receiving a phone call about Ila.
This novel is such a marvelous piece of work from Anita Desai. It touches upon innumerable subjects--jealousy, craving, longing for privacy, self-exploration, superstitions, judging humans and such sensitive subjects. Such an emotional novel. A must read!
January 27, 2020
| Book Review | Fire On The Mountain.
•
"If Nanda Kaul was a recluse out of vengeance for a long life of duty and obligation, her great-granddaughter was a recluse by nature, by instinct. She had not arrived at this condition by long route of rejection and sacrifice-she was born to it, simply." - Anita Desai.
•
I remember reading In Custody by Anita Desai and feeling underwhelmed. Years later, I decided to read my second book by the author and ended up choosing Fire On The Mountain. Over the years, this particular novella has received mixed reviews and only after reading it did I realise how difficult it might be to rate it. It's rather a simple story narrated in three parts and before I knew it, I was flipping through the last page. All through my experience of reading In Custody, I was immensely captivated by her ability to narrate the surroundings. The city in which her plot unravels is always described in greatest detail. This book was no different. In fact, I enjoyed this much more than her previous one.
•
Nanda Kaul is of an age where she prefers solidarity. She resides in Kasauli in a particularly secluded house called Carignano in which many English gentlemen and ladies have previously lived. She has only her cook Ram Lal for company and seeks refuge in the barren lands and ravines surrounding her abode. Her husband was the vice-chancellor and after his demise, she buys Carignano. Her children are married and live elsewhere, busy with their own lives and Nanda Kaul continues to live her life in silence. Her peace is shattered one fine day when she receives a letter from her daughter, Asha announcing the news that her great-granddaughter Raka, will be sent to Kasauli for a span of few weeks. Upon receiving this sudden news, Nanda Kaul worries about her privacy.
•
When Raka arrives at her great-grandmother's house, she doesn't show a hint of interest. To Nanda Kaul's surprise, Raka refrains from seeking comfort in her great-grandmother's presence. Instead she chooses to explore the surrounding area like a wild child. She doesn't need cajoling or stories but prefers being completely alone. Nanda Kaul is impressed but later turns desperate in grabbing Raka's interest. She is amused by the uninvited jealousy that sprouts up as she watches Raka sharing her adventures with the cook. Throughout her stay, Nanda Kaul feels tempted to write down the house in Raka's name in her will. She feels the need to be Raka's favourite person and weaves stories of magic to keep her interested. A sudden call from Nanda Kaul's childhood friend, sours her mood for she is no condition to entertain anyone else.
•
When Ila Das imposes her presence upon Nanda Kaul, she has no choice but to invite her to tea. Being a Welfare Officer, Ila shares her stories about the plight of villagers and her attempts at educating them. Nanda Kaul cannot stand Ila's shrill voice and prays for her immediate leave. As the friends bid goodbye post tea, a series of terrible events leads for the truth to emerge in a grave manner. Nanda Kaul's life isn't what it seems to be. Raka's fascination with the forest turns into something darker. Ila's fate takes a grim turn. The book is conveniently divided into three parts. Nanda Kaul's life in Carignano, Raka's entrance and Ila's visit. I particularly enjoyed Anita Desai's vivid description of the place and people. I could feel a faint coat of dust on my face as she narrated the murky hills. The story is unique and even though it felt a bit stretched, the ending was worth it. I recommend it.
•
Rating - 4.2/5
•
"If Nanda Kaul was a recluse out of vengeance for a long life of duty and obligation, her great-granddaughter was a recluse by nature, by instinct. She had not arrived at this condition by long route of rejection and sacrifice-she was born to it, simply." - Anita Desai.
•
I remember reading In Custody by Anita Desai and feeling underwhelmed. Years later, I decided to read my second book by the author and ended up choosing Fire On The Mountain. Over the years, this particular novella has received mixed reviews and only after reading it did I realise how difficult it might be to rate it. It's rather a simple story narrated in three parts and before I knew it, I was flipping through the last page. All through my experience of reading In Custody, I was immensely captivated by her ability to narrate the surroundings. The city in which her plot unravels is always described in greatest detail. This book was no different. In fact, I enjoyed this much more than her previous one.
•
Nanda Kaul is of an age where she prefers solidarity. She resides in Kasauli in a particularly secluded house called Carignano in which many English gentlemen and ladies have previously lived. She has only her cook Ram Lal for company and seeks refuge in the barren lands and ravines surrounding her abode. Her husband was the vice-chancellor and after his demise, she buys Carignano. Her children are married and live elsewhere, busy with their own lives and Nanda Kaul continues to live her life in silence. Her peace is shattered one fine day when she receives a letter from her daughter, Asha announcing the news that her great-granddaughter Raka, will be sent to Kasauli for a span of few weeks. Upon receiving this sudden news, Nanda Kaul worries about her privacy.
•
When Raka arrives at her great-grandmother's house, she doesn't show a hint of interest. To Nanda Kaul's surprise, Raka refrains from seeking comfort in her great-grandmother's presence. Instead she chooses to explore the surrounding area like a wild child. She doesn't need cajoling or stories but prefers being completely alone. Nanda Kaul is impressed but later turns desperate in grabbing Raka's interest. She is amused by the uninvited jealousy that sprouts up as she watches Raka sharing her adventures with the cook. Throughout her stay, Nanda Kaul feels tempted to write down the house in Raka's name in her will. She feels the need to be Raka's favourite person and weaves stories of magic to keep her interested. A sudden call from Nanda Kaul's childhood friend, sours her mood for she is no condition to entertain anyone else.
•
When Ila Das imposes her presence upon Nanda Kaul, she has no choice but to invite her to tea. Being a Welfare Officer, Ila shares her stories about the plight of villagers and her attempts at educating them. Nanda Kaul cannot stand Ila's shrill voice and prays for her immediate leave. As the friends bid goodbye post tea, a series of terrible events leads for the truth to emerge in a grave manner. Nanda Kaul's life isn't what it seems to be. Raka's fascination with the forest turns into something darker. Ila's fate takes a grim turn. The book is conveniently divided into three parts. Nanda Kaul's life in Carignano, Raka's entrance and Ila's visit. I particularly enjoyed Anita Desai's vivid description of the place and people. I could feel a faint coat of dust on my face as she narrated the murky hills. The story is unique and even though it felt a bit stretched, the ending was worth it. I recommend it.
•
Rating - 4.2/5
March 17, 2014
Fire on the mountain has simple and detailed story. The plot is that Nanda Kaul chooses to retire from her family life and spend the rest of her life in isolation in Carigano, a secluded bungalow in Kasauli. Ramlal, the cook of the home is the only person who lives in the bungalow along with her. Nanada Kaul is shocked when her great granddaughter, Raka, arrives to stay with her in bungalow. Raka was sent by Asha, daughter of Nanda Kaul and mother of Tara. Raka is suffering from Typhoid and was sent to he nani to rest in the secluded place. One of Nanda Kaul's old friend Illa das comes to meet her and in the end Illa das was raped and murdered. This incident shocked Nanda Kaul and she sees all the masks and lies falling down and she is closer to painful reality.
The joy of reading the book is its details in the relationship with nature animals. The reading tells us a lot about the everyday here and now. The words to describe even most simplest of actions. Like breathing. Sighing, panting, gasp... It is amazing the way every moment is described and lived. It feels as if the whole imagination in the book is living. It exists in the writing.
This book makes us aware of daily life that we live. Do we have a moment for ourselves? Or we plan to live a secluded life in old age? It makes us aware of desire of old age? I felt that such kind of escape in secluded bungalow was a result of lot of violence to oneself.
It might not have been possible to see inside midst the outward living. I think that one needs to move out or away from it, like Nanda Kaul did by retiring to secluded bungalow in a hill station.
I could completely understand the experience of Nanda Kaul. The need to find connection and yet live in isolation. The socializing might lead to wearing a mask and not in touch with inner life.
I think we all have some kind of mask but healthy living is when it is in balance with inner life.
The rape and murder of Illa Das triggered the chaos and pain in Nanda Kaul's life. This could lead to depression, but it would be healthy. The fire within is the climax and it feels like that it will sweep her away and whole would will be burned. It is then Raka said "Nani, I have set fire on the forest". Fire on the Mountain ends with the fire within and there could be different possibilities the story can take. One, she would not be able to survive this episode and will fall ill or die. Second, the inetensity of episode will decrese over time and she will keep on living the way she is. Third, she will recover from this episode and will be like a new beginning with healthy relationships with family and self.
The joy of reading the book is its details in the relationship with nature animals. The reading tells us a lot about the everyday here and now. The words to describe even most simplest of actions. Like breathing. Sighing, panting, gasp... It is amazing the way every moment is described and lived. It feels as if the whole imagination in the book is living. It exists in the writing.
This book makes us aware of daily life that we live. Do we have a moment for ourselves? Or we plan to live a secluded life in old age? It makes us aware of desire of old age? I felt that such kind of escape in secluded bungalow was a result of lot of violence to oneself.
It might not have been possible to see inside midst the outward living. I think that one needs to move out or away from it, like Nanda Kaul did by retiring to secluded bungalow in a hill station.
I could completely understand the experience of Nanda Kaul. The need to find connection and yet live in isolation. The socializing might lead to wearing a mask and not in touch with inner life.
I think we all have some kind of mask but healthy living is when it is in balance with inner life.
The rape and murder of Illa Das triggered the chaos and pain in Nanda Kaul's life. This could lead to depression, but it would be healthy. The fire within is the climax and it feels like that it will sweep her away and whole would will be burned. It is then Raka said "Nani, I have set fire on the forest". Fire on the Mountain ends with the fire within and there could be different possibilities the story can take. One, she would not be able to survive this episode and will fall ill or die. Second, the inetensity of episode will decrese over time and she will keep on living the way she is. Third, she will recover from this episode and will be like a new beginning with healthy relationships with family and self.
May 22, 2017
Edited review
I realize my earlier review of the novel was misleading.
Nanda Kaul is my worst nightmare realized in words.
A woman living for family, in servitude all her life. Resentful. Repressed. Isolated. Neglected. No one who actually gives a damn about her. But she lives with stoic pride. Lying to herself that she needs the isolation. Women bending under the male pride. Taught all their life that it is their duty to look after everyone. And now she lives alone on the mountain, lying to herself to not give in to despair. A life without meaning.
Yeah. My worst nightmare realized in flesh. And I could not admit it to myself. Because who wants to think of a bleak, hopeless future? Searching for ways to connect with the only one who showed up. Yes, I might read it again.
Anita Desai has crafted a reality so real that it continues to haunt and grate on my senses still. Unsettling. Uneasy. God she's amazing.
This story doesn't scream the truth. It continues in the same stoic pride, the calm demeanor of Nanda Kaul. Hands down the scariest thing I'll read this year.
I realize my earlier review of the novel was misleading.
Nanda Kaul is my worst nightmare realized in words.
A woman living for family, in servitude all her life. Resentful. Repressed. Isolated. Neglected. No one who actually gives a damn about her. But she lives with stoic pride. Lying to herself that she needs the isolation. Women bending under the male pride. Taught all their life that it is their duty to look after everyone. And now she lives alone on the mountain, lying to herself to not give in to despair. A life without meaning.
Yeah. My worst nightmare realized in flesh. And I could not admit it to myself. Because who wants to think of a bleak, hopeless future? Searching for ways to connect with the only one who showed up. Yes, I might read it again.
Anita Desai has crafted a reality so real that it continues to haunt and grate on my senses still. Unsettling. Uneasy. God she's amazing.
This story doesn't scream the truth. It continues in the same stoic pride, the calm demeanor of Nanda Kaul. Hands down the scariest thing I'll read this year.
May 21, 2018
I saw a lot of positive reviews about this book and it has also won many awards so I was naturally interested and picked up a copy. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy reading this book. The book ambles on and on and on.... I had to read on for a lot of time for me to get a little interested in the story, which basically started with the arrival of Raka. The writing is splendid, something that I absolutely loved coming across in a book by an Indian author, but then Ms Desai is a champion author. This is my first book by the author but it is evident why she is so respected and liked. Having said that, the book did not appeal to my taste; I waited for it to get moving, then for it to get interesting, then finally for it to get over.
October 19, 2014
Starting off with languid, repetitive and monotonous descriptions of pine needles, cicadas and apricots the book becomes unputdownable and startles you with a brisk, insightful climax.
A story of three women who are dissatisfied with what life provides them with how they eventually fall prey to their attempts to revitalize it.
A story of three women who are dissatisfied with what life provides them with how they eventually fall prey to their attempts to revitalize it.
May 23, 2017
این کتاب درباره زنی از طبقه متوسط است که روزی نتیجه دختری اش به خاطر بیماری مادرش نزد وی می آید. بخش بیشتر کتاب درباره تلاشهای این جده و نتیجه است برای شناخت یکدیگر به همراه توصیف طبقه فقیر هند و شرح زندگی زنان هندی
تا آنجایی که می دانم تنها سه کتاب از ایشان ترجمه شده است و خیلی خوشحال می شوم اگر سایر کتابهایش هم ترجمه و چاپ شوند.
تا آنجایی که می دانم تنها سه کتاب از ایشان ترجمه شده است و خیلی خوشحال می شوم اگر سایر کتابهایش هم ترجمه و چاپ شوند.
November 23, 2014
A delightful read but the ending, so tragic....so tragic.
April 12, 2021
Anita Desai, without a doubt is a gem when it comes to weaving stories out of thin air. She’ll take the simplest of tales and make you feel like your existence depends on that of the characters born out of her mind.
Such was the story of Fire on the Mountain, which left me with nothing but agony. It was a bittersweet feeling : reading about Nanda Kaul, Raka and Ila Das. All so different but still distinctively a part of this huge web where their fates coincided, sometimes for good and other times not.
I was very subtly enjoying the little tide of the story as it moved forward with a slow but graceful pace, and then bumped into a dead end that took my breath away. I was shook. And that’s when one realises that happy endings aren’t a cake of walk, and sometimes though the loose ends keep you awake for nights : they teach you lessons nobody ever could.
Nanda Kaul is a woman you wouldn’t find a story written about. I was so happy that finally we had a character who was sculpted in such a way that she made a heart go through all kinds of emotions without even making an effort. No, she wasn’t a little ball of light as people like women to be. She left her belongings, her commotion, her social life, her noise, her family to which she wasn’t a human but a beautiful, beautiful object to be showed off, to take help of and then forget in a whiff. You’d say she didn’t go through any physical abuse or something that made her leave everything behind after her husband died - and that is what I appreciate the best. Sometimes, trauma is inflicted without evident signs and it deserves to be validated as any other thing. Nanda Kaul sought solitude after everything became too much, a lot to handle. And even in that solitude, her greatest fear was to be pulled back into that turmoil she had escaped.
That fear came true in the form of little Raka - Nanda Kaul’s great-granddaughter who was sent to her Nani to live in Kasauli. For her nani, though, it was like a fragment from her past life taking her back, pulling her hard no matter how much she resisted. Nanda Kaul avoided her deliberately, lest she flew into the darkness she had so successfully avoided for many, many years. It gave her the worst of anxieties. But Raka came as a someone she had not expected. Raka was born with the knack of detachment that her nani had run after her whole life. She had the joy of being alone, unbothered, secretive at such an early and tender age - the joy that her nani had acquired after years of suffering. Raka belonged to the woods - the pine and apricot trees, the strange animals, the peculiar humans that surrounded her; and charred, damaged houses destroyed by fire. She went into those disturbing, broken places with a sense of fulfilment to seek a silence that was wholly welcome.
Ila Das - a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth that was snatched away as she grew up. When the privileges were replaced by prejudices and mis-happenings in her family, and the lady couldn’t even make ends meet, her childhood friend Nanda Kaul helped her get stably on her feet when they were young. Many years later, Ila as a government officer in a village in Kasauli barely keeping her stomach full and Nanda Kaul in her bungalow- their paths meet and the happy, bubbly and cheerful Ila gets on Nada Kaul’s nerves. She brings with her the memories of a brutal past with an innocent honesty and compassion that Nanda Kaul wasn’t fond of. But their meet concludes with both the women feeling protective of each other - Ila Das leaves with a lighter mind to face whatever was to come, and Nanda Kaul in her little shell is disturbed by everything that was ought to be said but wasn’t.
I’ll probably always remember this tale that ripped open my heart after nursing it all along. Things weren’t meant to go the way they went - but when destinies intervene, a mere human seldom has a say in it.
Such was the story of Fire on the Mountain, which left me with nothing but agony. It was a bittersweet feeling : reading about Nanda Kaul, Raka and Ila Das. All so different but still distinctively a part of this huge web where their fates coincided, sometimes for good and other times not.
I was very subtly enjoying the little tide of the story as it moved forward with a slow but graceful pace, and then bumped into a dead end that took my breath away. I was shook. And that’s when one realises that happy endings aren’t a cake of walk, and sometimes though the loose ends keep you awake for nights : they teach you lessons nobody ever could.
Nanda Kaul is a woman you wouldn’t find a story written about. I was so happy that finally we had a character who was sculpted in such a way that she made a heart go through all kinds of emotions without even making an effort. No, she wasn’t a little ball of light as people like women to be. She left her belongings, her commotion, her social life, her noise, her family to which she wasn’t a human but a beautiful, beautiful object to be showed off, to take help of and then forget in a whiff. You’d say she didn’t go through any physical abuse or something that made her leave everything behind after her husband died - and that is what I appreciate the best. Sometimes, trauma is inflicted without evident signs and it deserves to be validated as any other thing. Nanda Kaul sought solitude after everything became too much, a lot to handle. And even in that solitude, her greatest fear was to be pulled back into that turmoil she had escaped.
That fear came true in the form of little Raka - Nanda Kaul’s great-granddaughter who was sent to her Nani to live in Kasauli. For her nani, though, it was like a fragment from her past life taking her back, pulling her hard no matter how much she resisted. Nanda Kaul avoided her deliberately, lest she flew into the darkness she had so successfully avoided for many, many years. It gave her the worst of anxieties. But Raka came as a someone she had not expected. Raka was born with the knack of detachment that her nani had run after her whole life. She had the joy of being alone, unbothered, secretive at such an early and tender age - the joy that her nani had acquired after years of suffering. Raka belonged to the woods - the pine and apricot trees, the strange animals, the peculiar humans that surrounded her; and charred, damaged houses destroyed by fire. She went into those disturbing, broken places with a sense of fulfilment to seek a silence that was wholly welcome.
Ila Das - a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth that was snatched away as she grew up. When the privileges were replaced by prejudices and mis-happenings in her family, and the lady couldn’t even make ends meet, her childhood friend Nanda Kaul helped her get stably on her feet when they were young. Many years later, Ila as a government officer in a village in Kasauli barely keeping her stomach full and Nanda Kaul in her bungalow- their paths meet and the happy, bubbly and cheerful Ila gets on Nada Kaul’s nerves. She brings with her the memories of a brutal past with an innocent honesty and compassion that Nanda Kaul wasn’t fond of. But their meet concludes with both the women feeling protective of each other - Ila Das leaves with a lighter mind to face whatever was to come, and Nanda Kaul in her little shell is disturbed by everything that was ought to be said but wasn’t.
I’ll probably always remember this tale that ripped open my heart after nursing it all along. Things weren’t meant to go the way they went - but when destinies intervene, a mere human seldom has a say in it.
February 16, 2024
Comincia piena di luce, di aria, sembra leggera questa storia, come le vette su cui sono abbarbicate queste misere vite. Ma ben presto qui e là si fa cupa, rigida, pesante, fino alla tragedia finale.
December 12, 2024
Beautiful book about loneliness, aging, and how pride often prevents people from asking for help even during their darkest hour.
November 5, 2023
i cried
July 17, 2017
This is a dark, short morality tale. Desai creates a matriarch, Nanda Kaul, who only wants to be left alone. Widowed and free of encumbrances, she lives high up in the Indian mountains, with one servant who rarely ruffles the solitude of Carignano. Then a letter arrives, announcing that she is to receive a prolonged visit. Her great-granddaughter, Raka, is recovering from typhoid and her jet-setting mother, recently separated, is about to be institutionalized in Geneva, so Raka must spend the summer, recuperating in the Kisauli Hills.
Nanda Kaul wants nothing to do with little Raka – whom she barely recalls, as she can’t differentiate one greatgrand from another – yet the matter has been decided and Raka is arriving, like it or not. At first only brimming with resentment at a proper distance, Nanda Kaul suffers her own transformation, as the child, she realizes, is her spitting image.
At first not wishing to be disturbed in the slightest during her afternoon quiet times, Nanda Kaul starts out curious about Raka’s scaling-adventures down into the dry ravine at the lip of the house, but ends up obsessed. She even thinks of willing her home to the little sprite. So she starts to tell tall tales and suggests excursions to the curious, if impenetrable girl, who astonishes her.
Raka rejects the intimacy.
Nanda Kaul hears nothing of it and escalates her story-telling ploys until the inevitable happens. A series of occurrences leads to the old lady’s demise, just in time for the conflagration started by little Raka, who could well be orphaned by it.
Too late Nanda Kaul realizes all her life has been a lie.
As Carignano, the house also to be sacrificed, was last occupied by a Memsahib of the dying British embers, this may well be a fable about the identity-building of India, itself birthed to indifferent parents and rended by death at her release.
Fire on the Mountain, Penguin Books, London, 1981
Nanda Kaul wants nothing to do with little Raka – whom she barely recalls, as she can’t differentiate one greatgrand from another – yet the matter has been decided and Raka is arriving, like it or not. At first only brimming with resentment at a proper distance, Nanda Kaul suffers her own transformation, as the child, she realizes, is her spitting image.
“If Nanda Kaul was a recluse out of vengeance for a long life of duty and obligation, her great-granddaughter was a recluse by nature, by instinct. She had not arrived at the condition by a long route of rejection and sacrifice – she was born to it, simply.” [p.48]
At first not wishing to be disturbed in the slightest during her afternoon quiet times, Nanda Kaul starts out curious about Raka’s scaling-adventures down into the dry ravine at the lip of the house, but ends up obsessed. She even thinks of willing her home to the little sprite. So she starts to tell tall tales and suggests excursions to the curious, if impenetrable girl, who astonishes her.
“Looking down at her foot [...], Raka said in a stifled voice, ‘But you never go to the club either, Nani.
“Nanda Kaul’s foot gave an astonished little jerk into the grey silt tent of her sari. Then she gave a snort of laughter. Bending down so that her face was at a level with hunched child’s and her nose tapered softly forwards, she said ‘Raka, you really are a great-grandchild of mine, aren’t you? You are more like me than any of my children or grandchildren. You are exactly like me, Raka.’”
[p.64]
Raka rejects the intimacy.
“But Raka retreated pell-mell from this outspoken advance. It was too blatant, too obvious for her who loved secrecy above all. Her small face blanched and she pinched her lips together in distatste.” [p.65]
Nanda Kaul hears nothing of it and escalates her story-telling ploys until the inevitable happens. A series of occurrences leads to the old lady’s demise, just in time for the conflagration started by little Raka, who could well be orphaned by it.
Too late Nanda Kaul realizes all her life has been a lie.
“It was all a lie, all. She had lied to Raka, lied about everything.” [p.145]
As Carignano, the house also to be sacrificed, was last occupied by a Memsahib of the dying British embers, this may well be a fable about the identity-building of India, itself birthed to indifferent parents and rended by death at her release.
Fire on the Mountain, Penguin Books, London, 1981
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