Ismail flees his village in Bihar one night with his wife Zarina, and infant son, Azam, and moves from being a respected tea stall owner to a pavement dweller in a big city. This is his story.
up until the point of leaving India, this is a lovely easy to read character study. But when the story reaches Australia, McMahon made the early 2000s feel like 1965, and there was no real reflection on colonial Britain's damages. This black and white characterisation of Australia made me question the way the Calcutta world had been painted. though, I think there was more warmth and intimacy describing the author's homeland so actually the Indian parts did read more genuinely, rich and complex, if classist and in a hurry to centre the Anglo-Indian voice. Anyway the Australian parts irked me and it ended abruptly. A snapshot in time, quick read nonetheless.