Rishtey, by Kusum Choppra, is an anthology of three short stories that are spunky, full of life and most importantly, daring. The author sets the tone for a roller-coaster ride of emotions with the very relatable ‘Goa Diaries’. The story is told from the twin lenses of Amoli, who arrives at an idyllic Goa resort on a company junket and Pooja, who has recently separated from her husband. In their encounters of all sorts during what is supposed to be a getaway holiday, the author time and again also throws up larger questions of ‘accepted’ and ‘acceptable’ relationships, albeit in a rather enjoyable manner packed with wry humour. Take for instance this observation by Pooja – “People tend to love the guy who’s moved on. And hate the woman who tries to do that.” Or when she says ‘‘happy couple’ is at a very high premium, difficult to spot.” These encounters, especially the one’s involving Pooja, are described in great detail by the author, making the reader an intrinsic part of the story experience so much so that I got off with an almost voyeuristic feeling… although I must confess it’s fun to be a voyeur now and then.
Next in the anthology is ‘The Pink Sari’, again a very radical take on the husband-wife relationship. The story, involving the relationship between two senior citizens, brings home the point that love and the need for companionship does not bow down to something as dreary as the ‘age factor’. The author has tackled a similar subject in her earlier novel -Silver Dreams, and I was sceptical walking into the world of Ranga and Maya -would this be a shorter version of the novel? I was pleasantly surprised to discover a very different and refreshing new story. Love in an older couple is much more complex because of the sheer baggage of a past marriage, be it a utopian kind or the disappointing variety. The insecurities, second-guessings, difficulty in opening up completely to one’s partner and many more such aspects can so easily crush any aspiration for ‘love’. We get to see all this and more in the delicate world of Ranga and Maya and I could empathise with Ranga when he says – “Have you forgotten the stresses of a married status: forever wondering how the Other will take what you do, you say, even what you think? Those constant mental questions, bitterness, awkwardness, hiding emotions, views .... and wrenching break ups that rebound over and over again? I have not. Can’t go through it again.” The story’s setting in the hills of Coorg makes it an interesting contrast against the previous story’s sea-side setting and I found myself pondering about the connect between the way these stories were told and their setting. The title plays an important role in the story, but I’d rather you read and discover it for yourself.
The last story, ‘Maitry Karaar’, is at the same time poignant and bold. The author has dared to talk about an aspect of marriages that we’d rather brush under the carpet -the ‘other woman’. Who is this other woman, why is she there in a man’s life, does she have an identity of her own, should she have that identity… these were few of the many questions that flitted though my mind as I read the story of Vishal and Uma. Although some parts of the story involving the larger family of Vishal seemed to stick to a stereotypical portrayal of patriarchal or matriarchal roles, almost giving the story a melodramatic effect, it was not overbearing and the author has managed to remain true to her protagonists. While the smaller back stories of secondary characters brought a different flavour to the reading experience, the cheeky dialogues combined with satirical and poignant observations by characters made it an enjoyable read for me. One particular comment by Uma stood out for me - “I want my father to die. He’s never done anyone any good; gives my mother only sorrow. He’s living only to make others miserable. Grandpa suffers. For him death will be a release. My father’s death -- release for ma and me.” It exposes the elephant in the room in so many of our lives… much as we would yearn for it, not all the relationships we are born with or form during the course of our life turn out to be ‘perfect’. It takes guts to accept this reality and in writing this dialogue, the author has forced us to do just that, making Maitry Karaar a well-chosen finale to this wonderful book.