Journalist-turned-writer Pinki Virani examines the crisis which underlies the facade of progressive modernity that is present-day India through a set of characters you may have met. If not directly, then through the six degrees of separation which thread together this story of a life-changing weekend. The voice is that of Saraswati, librarian and collector of curious facts, who dies among her beloved books on Thursday evening. Until her body is discovered on Monday, her spirit is free to play sutradhar and watch over all she holds her sister Damayanti, wife of a superstar; Tisca, heroine spurned by a rising star; Qudsia Begum, Bangalore beautician and wise mother; Czaerandhari, erstwhile maharani and sms-addict; hard-talking journalist Nafisa, does she hide a secret? Saraswati's stories are not only about women who wait for their idea of heaven to happen. There is the wily husband of Bhagyalakshmi, scooty-driving bank-employee transposed from cultured Chennai to dusty Delhi. And in Bombay, the two men who leave Manya bleeding; her rightwing father and right-thinking twin brother. And Saraswati's stories are not about the men who eclipse the happiness of their women. They are about a society where the forces of Olde Bharat battle with India. Where change has to be wrested from tradition, often with calamitous effects. And where hope constantly chafes against the trepidation of socio-political chaos. This is fiction that dares to subvert form, structure and expectations to hold up a mirror to a nation at tipping point.
I'm quite a fan of Pinki Virani's earlier work - Once was Bombay, so there might be a bit of a bias here. :)
'Deaf heaven' is billed as her first work of fiction, but is perhaps as close to non-fiction as it can get. The characters are clearly based on the contemporary personalities - from movie stars to politicians, and the descriptions are such that a little knowledge can easily help you identify them - the 'caterpillar -eyebrows' actress to the leader of the saffron army, to the famous film star and his wannabe famous son and the lesbian maker of daily soaps. See? :)
The narrator is the cleft lipped and recently dead Saraswati, librarian by profession and collector of facts. Over a weekend, with an eclipse that serves as a climax for the multiple narratives, she traces the lives of the characters, a mixture of the famous and the ordinary, connected to each other by varying degrees of separation.
The book is a commentary on modern India and its mixture of contradictions, with representatives from different geographies, strata in life, age, and religion. Though primarily a woman's perspective, the author manages to tackle the paradoxes of the emerging superpower - from female infanticide (and an ingenious way of communicating the unborn child's gender - an illegal act), and tribal exploitation, to the mechanics of religion-politics, the effect of chemicals on vultures and the 'death by railway track' on Mumbai's famed local trains, all interconnected, just like the characters.
Though a preachy tone does dominate the last part of the book, it is definitely a must read, not just for the pertinent and fundamental questions the author makes us think about, but also for her razor sharp wit.
Started off well...but am now wondering if Pink forgot what she started...but then will trudge along...hopefully the pace will pick up. I have loved Pinki's works and have faith in her writing.