The Lost Generation: Chronicling India's Dying Professions

by Nidhi Dugar Kundalia

A Haridwar pandit who maintains genealogical records of families for centuries; a professional mourner who has mastered the art of fake tears; a letter writer who overlooks the lies that a sex worker makes him write to her family back home.

These are remnants of an India that still exist in its old streets and neighbourhoods, an unshakeable sense of belonging to a time that was the everyday life of our ancestors. In The Lost Generation, Nidhi Dugar Kundalia narrates the unforgettable stories of eleven professionals—from the hauntingly beautiful rudaalis to the bizarre tasks of a street dentist—uncovering the romance, tragedy and old-world charm of India’s ageing bylanes and its incredible living history.

Genres: Nonfiction, India

163 pages, Kindle Edition

Published December 24, 2015

Reviews

[Sairam Krishnan · Rating 1 out of 5]

In the hands of a better writer, this book would have gone down as a classic. And that's the thing - it should have. On the level of the idea, The Lost Generation is captivating. But it is in the execution, in the writing, that it fails, and how. I was extremely irritated by the time I reached the mid-point, and continued only because I was aghast at how such a good premise had been let down by bad writing.

At its best, the writing is passable; at its worst, it's cringe-inducing. A few examples:

"With every gust of wind that blows into the hut, bouquets of light and people are displaced in the room."

What. What does that mean?

"Stories that dissolve in their bloodstreams like pearls in the sea, becoming tender memories that comfort like a mother's soft caress."

First, pearls do not dissolve in the sea. That is wrong. And that next sentence. Jeez.

"A pregnant silence fills the room in spite of the old fan whipping through the thick, dry air, the annoyingly happy sparrows chirruping outside and the exaggerated sounds of the sheets of paper as he wastes long minutes rolling each of them."

First, 'wastes long minutes rolling.' Wow, talk about a writer passing judgement instead of recording. And of course, that entire sentence. 'Pregnant' silence, 'in spite of'. Why?

I could find a lot more. The writer is trying too hard, and this is a badly written book. The romance of the professions the writer describes, their other-worldliness, is just lost. And even the research just doesn't seem deep enough. Some of these are just surface level portraits, and do nothing for the reader.

Super-disappointed.

[Padmaja · Rating 5 out of 5]

Incredible India! A truly insightful book!! Must read.
India never ceases to amaze me. I have immense respect to the author for chronicling these dying professions and elegantly presenting a picture of India we might not know anymore.
~
The book has 11 stories, each describing a different profession. Each story has a protagonist who is the last surviving member of the profession. I was appalled at the knowledge people have for their respective craft. The dedication and love they have for their craft is like the same love as a mother feels towards her child. The protagonist of each story tell us about their profession and how it evolved in India, how they learnt it from their parents/grandparents or a master who introduced them to the craft.
Kundalia has travelled the length and breadth of the country recording the age old practices, professions and their history which are slowly diminishing in oir digital age.
We travel with her to the deep interiors of India through the stories, why I saw my very own beloved Vadodara in a new light. Kundalia gives a strong insightful look through each story.
~
Be it the tattoo artists of Jharkhand, the genealogists of Haridwar who painstakingly keep records of each generation, the boat makers of Balagarh, each person has a story to tell you. You will end up feeling amazed and will also develop a new found respect for the artists.
The writing is beautiful and keeps the readers enthralled. The stories aren't monotonous and you learn more about our incredible India. This book is such a much needed book in today's times. I am glad our generation has this book to read and learn about the glory our ancestors witnessed.
5⭐ Truly, Incredible India 🇮🇳
#thebookishtalesreviews #femmemarchfest #femmemarch

[Jyotsna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Actual Rating - 3.7 stars
NPS - 9 (Promoter)

Although I rate this book lower than 4 stars, I recommend it to those who are curious about the dying professions in India.

Starting with Godna tattoo artists and Rudalis, to the ittar walas and street dentists; this book explores of JDs you might have never heard of if you are from urban India. A bold and refreshing nonfiction read about various unheard jobs in the country.

What irked me was the writing, it’s light and fun, but some sentences are really questionable. 🤨

I recommend it with a pinch of salt.

[priyanka · Rating 4 out of 5]

Only in India would people think of such professions! This book explores some of the professions of the old India by interviewing the people who do those work. These professions are slowly vanishing in the winds of time and these professionals are increasingly finding it difficult to adapt to a new India.

The books is brutal, honest and laying bare the truth. Nowhere does the author seeks to censor the words of those she interviews. The good and the bad are equally given to us revealing the very human personalities behind these voices. The reality that this book depicts is often hidden from privileged and sheltered lives. This is such an important book for preserving the culture of an India that might disappear, in its pages.

The only fault I found was with the author's style of writing. When she gives only the words of the people she interviews, it sounds honest. But there are places where we can feel the author's voice which is a bit complicated. To make the book interesting she has to describe everything but I would have preferred if she had restrained from allowing her prejudices when describing the people. It would have been better without her opinion on the people instead allowing only their voices to speak and for us to judge.

This quote perfectly sums up the plight of these people -
"Change, they say. I knew change was inevitable. I just expected change for the better."

[Aman Mittal · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nidhi Dugar Kundalia's The Lost Generation: Chronicling India's Dying Professions is a collection of essays about those professionals who are clinging to their traditional, ancestral trades despite the modern savage affecting the country in an improvisatory manner.

The book introduces professions which most of us might not have hear, even though living almost all my life, I haven't heard them before. One thing about a profession is that it is well suited to those practitioners who have faith in their professions. This what Nidhi, a young journalist based in Kolkata, explores traveling all around the nation.

Her writing is a depth insight on professions such rudaalis, the women who are hired to cry when some rich person dies, the street dentist, the ittar wallah(ittar- a natural perfume oil derived from botanical sources), and the letter writer, the bookkeeper of family ancestors and a few more.
These professionals know the change is confronting and many of them are the last of their generations. One common theme observed in all of these essays is that the practitioners in ability to access aid as some of them are belong to backward castes and have no permanent residences and spend their lives in migratory nature.

I liked the way every profession is presented to a reader, the author certainly has taken pains in forming her chronicles in presentable manner with immerse research and has kept as short as she can to introduce a newbie. The astonishing part is how deep and vast at the same time Indian culture is. One can clearly observe that after reading this book. Her writing is fluent, a glossary is provided at the back of the book for regional words used in the conversation as well as a bibliography to explore more.

3 out of 5!

[Abhinav Choudhary · Rating 2 out of 5]

Concept is nice but the writing is quite sub par. It feels like a chore reading this book.

[Girl from Mumbai · Rating 4 out of 5]

In zeest ki rahon ne hi sikha diya Khushboo hai kya – The paths of life taught me how to smell


The Lost Generation by @nidhidkundalia traces the history and the current state of affairs of 11 dying professions of India. Painstakingly researched and documented by the author, each essay showcases the stories of people for whom time has stood still. Some of these professions are known because of Bollywood, but most unknown because they have no torch bearers except those who follow the craft.

The godna artists in Jharkhand who are known for their tattoo making skills.The Rudaalis from Rajasthan, a group of lower caste women hired by rich people to mourn the death of loved ones. The pandits in Haridwar, painstakingly maintaining the genealogical records for Hindus from all around the world for generations. The street dentists of Baroda, whose ancestors learned the art from the first Chinese migrants in India. The traditional boat makers from West Bengal, the calligraphist in Delhi, the letter writers of Mumbai, ittar-walas (Perfume maker) in Hyderabad, the Kabortarbaaz (pigeon flyers) of Delhi, the storytellers of Andhra and the bhisti wallahs of Calcutta.

I am sure there are many more professions in India that are now either lost or the brink of extinction, and the writer has not explained what made her chronicle the ones that she did. However, her research is thorough, and the writing is evocative, making the reader stop and think about how the advancement of technology has led to the death of so many such professions. The essays are confronting and make you aware of how most of these people are from the lower strata of society where they do not have access to advance their lives and livelihoods.

As I put down the book with a heavy heart, I couldn’t help but feel the irony in the words of Syed Sahab the Ittar waala ‘Naak par rumaal rakh kar bagh mein ghumne walon mein se hain ye janab. Which loosely translates to ‘he is among those who walk in the garden with kerchiefs on their noses.’ I couldn’t help but realise that we are those people because we live in fast cities, leading stressful lives, gloating about we are much more advanced than our forefathers ever were. At the same time, we are utterly oblivious of the real beauty around us, especially in the things that are no longer new and shiny. With the stories, the writer has managed to amalgamate together everything that is now almost getting forgotten.

I felt the pain of each of the protagonists as I watched them struggle to make ends meet. Once revered and respected because of what they offered and now pushed away in the fading pages of history, the book has done an excellent service in showcasing these unconventional professions that most people today don’t even know ever existed.

[Sandeep · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Lost Generation - Chronicling India's dying professions.
Nidhi Dugar Kundalia.
Rating 2.75/5

The title of the book is intriguing. The index of the book welcomes you with an optimistic hope of a treat. A reader like me is definitely enticed towards reading something which I do not really know. There are few professions which are listed such as the Letter Writers of Bombay, Bishtiwallahs of Calcutta, Kabootarbaaz of Delhi, Ittarwallahs of Hyderabad. The knowledge of these lesser known professions, the history of the bygone days, their place in the ecosystem and few other things are what all I wish to know.

There are conversations with people who ply these professions, how their lives look like and few other details. Apart from this there is not much to write about. There is a little history which is inclusive within each story. The writing is a bit or rather big letdown. The usage of metaphors add an additional burden to the already uninteresting prose composition.

The book pushed me into a reading slump. Each time I saw the book, I let out a sigh, reminding myself I had to finish this. I could have read two interesting books in the same time I took for this one.

Not really recommended unless you are short of interesting books.

Cheers,t

PS - I had to push myself to write this review - I was that uninterested - post completion of the book.

[Preetam Chatterjee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mission 2026: Binge reviewing (and rereading on occasion) all previous Reads, I was too slothful to review, back when I read them.

Reading this book is a slightly unsettling experience because the book quietly reminds us that modernisation often advances by erasing entire ways of living. India, for centuries, functioned through a complex web of occupations tied to caste, locality, and inherited knowledge.

These professions were not merely jobs; they were identities embedded within communities and traditions.

Kundalia explores a handful of such vanishing worlds with remarkable patience and empathy, travelling across the country to interview practitioners whose livelihoods once felt indispensable but now stand on the verge of extinction.

What impresses you most while reading the book is the author’s commitment to listening carefully to these individuals while also reconstructing the historical and cultural contexts behind their work.

Through interviews, archival digging, and field observations, she builds a narrative that feels part reportage, part social history, and part elegy for a disappearing India.

One begins to notice certain patterns across these professions. Most of them originated within caste-based occupational groups, and for generations the practitioners took genuine pride in their craft. Their skills were inherited rather than formally taught, often refined through childhood apprenticeship within the family.

Yet the arrival of modern industry, urban lifestyles, new technologies, and shifting cultural tastes has gradually pushed many of these professions into obscurity.

Among the most fascinating figures in the book are the Rudalis of Rajasthan—professional mourners who traditionally cried at the funerals of aristocratic Rajput families.

In feudal households, especially among powerful Thakurs, women of the household were expected to remain secluded and could not publicly express grief. Rudalis therefore performed the ritual mourning on their behalf, displaying extraordinary emotional theatrics that made their lamentations appear heartbreakingly genuine. Their work earned them modest payment but also social recognition within that cultural structure.

Another striking chapter describes the letter writers who once operated outside the General Post Office in Mumbai. When the British established India’s modern postal system in the 19th century, illiteracy prevented many people from communicating through letters. Professional scribes stepped in to fill that gap, composing personal correspondence for migrants, labourers, lovers, and families separated by distance. These letter writers often became silent witnesses to deeply private emotions—romantic confessions, family anxieties, and personal deceptions.

Kundalia recounts stories where individuals used these letters to construct alternate lives, such as a woman concealing her profession from relatives back in the village.

The book also takes us into the fragrant alleyways near Charminar in Hyderabad, where traditional ittar makers once distilled perfumes from flowers and herbs using elaborate artisanal methods. Unlike modern synthetic fragrances, these perfumes were painstakingly crafted through slow distillation and blended with sandalwood oil. Their clientele once included nawabs and wealthy patrons, yet industrially produced perfumes have almost erased this delicate craft.

Another remarkable tradition appears in the form of Burrakatha storytellers from Andhra Pradesh—performers who combined narrative, music, satire, and political commentary in all-night storytelling sessions during village festivals.

A typical Burrakatha performance involved three performers: a central narrator with a tanpura, a rhythmic commentator playing a drum-like instrument, and a comic figure who entertained audiences with humour while keeping the narrative lively.

This oral storytelling tradition, capable of stretching into tens of thousands of lines, now survives only in fragments.

Equally intriguing are the genealogists of Haridwar, priests known as pandas who maintain elaborate family registers for pilgrims visiting the sacred city to perform ancestral rites.

For generations these priests meticulously recorded births, marriages, and deaths, effectively maintaining handwritten family trees that sometimes served as legal evidence in property disputes. In a digital age obsessed with databases and social media archives, such manually preserved genealogies seem almost miraculous.

Kundalia’s survey also introduces readers to street dentists in Vadodara, itinerant tattoo artists in the tribal regions of Jharkhand, pigeon keepers of Delhi who organise elaborate bird-flying competitions, Urdu calligraphers preserving the aesthetics of handwritten scripts, traditional boat makers from Balagarh, and water carriers once known as Bhistis in Kolkata who transported water in goat-skin containers.

Each story opens a window onto an occupation that once seemed ordinary but now appears almost mythical. What emerges from these portraits is not merely nostalgia but a complicated reflection on progress itself.

Modernity promises efficiency and convenience, yet it often dissolves the intimate human relationships that once defined traditional work. Kundalia does not romanticise poverty or hardship—many of these professions were economically precarious even in their prime—but she gently reminds readers that they embodied a remarkable diversity of human ingenuity.

By documenting these lives before they disappear entirely, the author creates a fragile cultural archive of a transitional India. Reading the book today, one cannot help wondering how many more professions are quietly fading without anyone noticing.

Perhaps that is why the title feels so appropriate: the “lost generation” is not only the practitioners themselves but also a younger society that may never fully understand the worlds these people once inhabited.

A fragment of history slowly being eaten up by the ravages of advancement!!

A must read this one.

[Vinayak Hegde · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book looks at the different professions slowly dying out in the country but still present in those recesses of India where modernity has not reached but is slowly creeping. The writing style made me feel that I was talking to some of the characters in the book.

Many different and diverse professions such as the genealogists (Pandas) of Haridwar, the mourners (Rudaalis) of Jaisalmer, Calligraphy artists of Delhi, and the water-bearers (bhistiwallahs) of Kolkata are covered. The book evokes nostalgia for a different era as many of these professions would have been experienced by someone who was born in the 70s and 80s as well. The loss of these professions means lost traditional knowledge or a part of our oral and intangible heritage.

The age of computers and the Internet as well the winds of modernity are making many of these age-old professions obsolete and many of the professionals in the book are probably the last generation of these. Quite enjoyed the book.

[A. B. · Rating 2 out of 5]

Pop non-fiction, meh writing. The writing is very forced, and artificial. There is a frequent injudicious use of sub-par metaphors. However, it is a charming account of 11 disappearing professions in India: Bhistiwallahs of Calcutta, wooden boatmakers, folk storytellers/bards, letter writers, kabootarbaaz (pigeon fliers), Urdu calligraphers, street dentists, ittarwallahs of Hyderabad, tribal tattoo artists, rudaalis (professional mourners) of Rajasthan, and the genealogists of Haridwar. Quite saddening to see the gradual homogenization and proletarianization of those who practiced these professions.

Distantly related side-note: What on earth is that cover.

[Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Wonderful stories, lovingly researched, but let down by the uneven writing.

The book really needed a better editor - the writing ranges from evocative to pretentious. The author would have done well to let the stories speak for themselves instead of adding overwrought descriptions where it really wasn’t necessary. Even the footnotes contents were odd - some added more context to the main text, some repeated what the main text would say just a few sentences later, some acted as just reference notes.

[Nicole · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is so much to take away from this book.
It's also extremely well researched. I can only imagine what it must have taken to get these interviews and be able to capture people's emotions and stories.

[Alceste · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nidhi Dugar Kundalia's The Lost Generation: Chronicling India's Dying Professions is a collection of essays about those professionals who are clinging to their traditional, ancestral trades despite the modern savage affecting the country in an improvisatory manner.

The book introduces professions which most of us might not have hear, even though living almost all my life, I haven't heard them before. One thing about a profession is that it is well suited to those practitioners who have faith in their professions. This what Nidhi, a young journalist based in Kolkata, explores traveling all around the nation.

Her writing is a depth insight on professions such rudaalis, the women who are hired to cry when some rich person dies, the street dentist, the ittar wallah(ittar- a natural perfume oil derived from botanical sources), and the letter writer, the bookkeeper of family ancestors and a few more.
These professionals know the change is confronting and many of them are the last of their generations. One common theme observed in all of these essays is that the practitioners in ability to access aid as some of them are belong to backward castes and have no permanent residences and spend their lives in migratory nature.

I liked the way every profession is presented to a reader, the author certainly has taken pains in forming her chronicles in presentable manner with immerse research and has kept as short as she can to introduce a newbie. The astonishing part is how deep and vast at the same time Indian culture is. One can clearly observe that after reading this book. Her writing is fluent, a glossary is provided at the back of the book for regional words used in the conversation as well as a bibliography to explore more.

3 out of 5!

[Siddharth Dwivedi · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book like The Lost Generation wouldn't have made more sense than in the present times. It will remain relevant at least for two more decades. Although, it covers traditional but unconventional Indian professions, the context will appeal to all IT engineers and workers who are losing job and will certainly lose job to automation.

The journalistic style of narration enables you to view each story and profession objectively. The author abstains from any interpretation and implication, giving readers rein to take the story in their choice of direction. What is common among most stories is the non-professional, self-taught nature of people who are struggling as they are but take pride in what they have done. Look closely and you will find the book giving a tribute to the creative power of human beings.

Technology has rendered millions of jobs obsolete. And will continue to do so in the years to come. Factories that harbored 5,000 employees are now operating with only 50 while scaling the production at the same time.

As you complete chapter after chapter, you cannot escape the realization how fickle and fragile "job profiles" are. One cannot help but recall Christopher McCandless words in the movie Into The Wild:

Mr. Franz, I think careers are a 20th century invention and I don't want one.

This will make an interesting read for anyone who is looking to start his career or looking to change its course. Not that it will make anything easier for you. But as you will pass through each chapter, you can sit back and see whatever you're doing right now will be obsolete sooner or later. Right now, you can just enjoy what you're doing and take pride in your creative ability.

[Rahul Gurav · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating portrait of memories of diverse Indian professions, all are originated to serve the societal needs and with the coming age losing there relevance. In Lost Generation author Nidhi Dugar traces such 11 dying professions of India which is token number for numerous other professions which are fading out due to technology and cultural revolutions of our time. Bhistis of Kolkata, Rudalis of Rajasthan, Kabootarbaz of Delhi, Genealogist of Haridwar each one looks into rich heritage of these professions, now these families struggling hard to choose in between modernity and tradition, to fit themselves into changing social structures.
I feel author could have added more other professions and written a history of professions, going pan-community view rather than interviewing a individual. Still it gives you deep insight into our rich heritage and hardships falling on these communities due to changing times!!

[Wisdom Tooth · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enough has been said by other reviewers about the contents of this book; all I'll say is that the book, which I picked up from my pavement bookseller on his strong persuasion - he well knowing my reading preference - proved to be an excellent companion on my daily half-hour commute to and from the office. I wouldn't call the book un-putdownable for I would often deliberately put it down and contemplate on the very rich variety of India-unique "professions" it covers.

[Deepthi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Serious category book but is very interesting. The reader feels that he/she have met the people mentioned in the book except for one chapter because the person whom author was talking to was a bit rude.

[Aditya Vemuri]

My Rating: 2.5/5

The title says what the book is all about. Thematically, it is very interesting and it's informative too. However, the writing plays spoilsport which engages you only in parts. Still, it's worth a read to know about the rich culture and heritage of India.

[Sragdharamalini · Rating 5 out of 5]

A must-read for our generation who loom about clueless, on lonely graveyard nights of unfamiliar nostalgia.

[Neha · Rating 2 out of 5]

*2.5
Great stories but the writing style was not engaging and that made the storytelling a little boring.

[Sherry Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

A provocative record of dying professions, had me feeling an ache of nostalgia for things of our past

[Rohit · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well researched and so moving at times it will surprise you. Much recommended.

[Shreya Basu · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very good read!

[Siddharth Govindan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nidhi's vocabulary took my reading experience beyond the physical. Descriptions so vivid, she is painting vestiges of an incredible India, with every passing chapter.

[Timsi Gupta · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is not the kind of book I would have deliberately read. My husband stumbled across this book in a bookstore and brought it home. I liked that the writer came up with this compilation from her travels. I enjoyed reading about the professions so much that I could excuse the 'trying-too-hard' writing and 'the-editor-forgot-to-edit' editing. It made me feel nostalgic and have a sense of loss about an India I didn't really get to see.

[Abhinav · Rating 3 out of 5]

- Strays away from goals set in the introduction
- Focuses more on the negative aspects of cultures that enable these professions
- Thin on details and data about the profession as a whole
- No supporting commentary to bind together the different essays
- The writing style is not consistent. Sometimes superfluous, sometimes forced

[RustyJ · Rating 3 out of 5]

Chronicling India's dying professions - what a fantastic subject for a book! And the choice of professions - a Haridwar pandit maintaining genealogical records, a street dentist, rudaalis from Rajasthan, traditional boat makers from West Bengal, a letter writer in Mumbai, calligraphist in Delhi, ittar-wala in Hyderabad - is interesting too.
The book is an easy read, with about 20 pages devoted to each profession. In each, the author recounts her experiences meeting, conversing with and learning about these professions from a professional each. Therefore, this is not an in-depth description of each profession: its history, evolution, detailed explanations of the profession, reasons for decay etc., Rather, it is a snippet of each, dominated by conversations with the respective professional. As a result, the book lacks depth - the fascinating details that one could have learnt about these professions.
Though these professions are dying, and the fact should ideally evoke empathy / sympathy in the reader, the book fails to evoke any such feeling.
Full credit to the author for putting together a book such as this, travelling the length and breadth of the country to collect these stories first hand, the background research as evidenced by the long bibliography. However, the book fails to satisfy.
The editing is poor - the book is replete with spelling and grammar errors. Further, the narrative uses "big words" that appear too forced and many times, with improper usage.
The author also resorts to cliches, excessive and unnecessary romanticism and in many places a patronising / condescending attitude. For instance, in the chapter on the genealogists of Haridwar, the author describes the genealogist she interviewed as a "rotund person" and there are atleast 3 - 4 references to the person's jiggling belly. The person is also described as wearing round spectacles with thinning hair. The accompanying picture has him wearing rectangular metal rimmed spectacles with no sign of a receding hairline.
The book could have been excellent, but ends up being mediocre. A wasted opportunity.

[Swathi · Rating 5 out of 5]

" And overnight , the letter writer's fate was decided - an obscure place in the memory of hundreds of those who went to them to maintain their links to their homes , families and friends"
As I finished reading The Lost Generation : Chronicling India's Dying professions last night , I was left with a nostalgic feeling and wanting for more.

The Lost generation : Chronicling India's dying professions by Nidhi Duggar Kundalia true to its title talks about 11 fading professions from various parts of our Incredible India.

Starting with the Godna artists of Jharkhand we move west to Rudaali,'s from Rajasthan. I first heard about Rudaali from one of the popular Bollywood movies titled the same. (Some amazing songs). It was an eye opener where we come across some of the age old practices that we perceive are long forgotten. By far the most interesting one for me were the genealogists of Haridwar. The 'Pandas' or pandits maintain the records of family history going back to generations. Initially recorded in bhojpatras or bark of trees ,these registers called vahis have played various roles in preserving family tree.

In kabootarbaaz of old Delhi we see some bird racing with pigeons and how it is more than just a hobby for those who rear the pigeons. The birds are part of the family just like a child and the owner spends thousands in the well being of the bird.

Storytellers of Andhra, reminded me of stories from my mother's childhood in her village in Karnataka. At a time when the only source of entertainment were books, outdoor games and plays or Yakshagana during temple festivities. She fondly remembers staying up the whole night watching the plays during the yearly temple jaatre or festival when everyone would gather there. At a time when they still used chimney lights at home these festivities where a beautiful addition to the daily humdrum of a simple village life.

Lost generation is an amalgamation of all things old and beautiful . Taking us to the bygone era, I was left with lot of notes and after thoughts after the book. There is something for everyone to take away from. Each of the 11 stories in the book leave a lasting impression . I can't help thinking how many such unique professions are lost to the advancement of technology.
The writing paints a vivid picture of the region explored and human emotions. I
felt each emotion, each expression mentioned. The crystal clear writing is poetic at places where you are transported to a different time and period.
.

[Harper · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is rare to find a work of non-fiction with something new to say about caste. (Disclaimer: I do not know everything about caste, but I consider myself pretty well-informed.) Most of what I get in newspapers & current affairs relates to caste-based professions that deal with sanitation/waste management and discrimination in schools. This was a wider, though still insightful and critical, look at low-caste professions, as well as a high-caste profession, the genealogists of Haridwar. Not all the jobs were related to caste, and the way she depicts her subjects (and their clients) displays both the pride and prejudices of diverse communities. I loved Kundalia's own words on this subject, from the introduction:

While recording the interviews, I found myself being critical of the patriarchal, casteist, classist and sexist world-view seemingly espoused by these professions and the organized religion they practise. But at the same time I was grieving the loss of these ancient vocations, the cultural diversities and mysterious characters they have produced over the years. By the time I finished working on the book, I hoped to arrive at a conclusion. I wish I could have assertively stated that these professions have been culturally exhausted, that they have lived out their natural lives, that they, then, have to go--that the world doesn't need the bhisti wallahs to exist if they have become an anachronism.
But then I don't make my living as a bhisti wallah.

I would have appreciated more discussion into why these professions are challenged. Though there are some common themes, such as urbanisation, changing social values, and technology, what Kundalia reveals is fascinating, and I wanted more. I didn't understand Kundalia's selection of the title. Even "The Last Generation" would make more sense to me.