Debutant author Lavanya Sankaran provides many glimpses of life in Bangalore in this collection of short stories. The US also figures in a few of them through the presence of Non Resident Indian characters. Occasionally the stories fail to grip you or leave you wondering about the conclusion. But her prose itself is sufficiently beautiful that you will be none the worse for having read them.
The characters are mostly drawn from the middle/upper-middle classes - people who can afford a good private education, live with nannies and drivers, go for lunch at the club and move abroad to study. The two stories I enjoyed most both featured female protagonists. One of them was a girl looking back on her mischievous childhood run-ins with her nanny who isn’t entirely upright either; and the other had a grad student who is back in India on a working visit but finds herself pestered by her mother to present herself at parties and start thinking about marriage alliances. The author is in her elements when she describes the atmosphere in a convent school in Bangalore in the first one, and a perfectly decorated house overlooking Lavelle Road in the other. Also, while most of the stories are told competently from the point of view of a single main narrator, it’s in these two that human interactions and relationships come alive.
I do have a few quibbles. Often the plot got buried under elaborate descriptive paragraphs which did nothing to add to the whole, especially when the author stepped out of the above social world. For example, a second generation American-Indian humanities student is visiting her extended family in Malleswaram, Bangalore and that sets the stage for a cliched, lengthy description of a thread ceremony and discussions about Tambrahm culture. You could be excused for thinking this came out of some writing assignment. The title story (The Red Carpet) is told from the point of view of a driver to a rich, widowed(?) woman and encounters the same obstacle, even though it is otherwise brilliant in chronicling the driver’s thoughts and fears. There is also much description of hair, food and quite a few Ramu-s and Ashwini-s.
I should end by quoting a couple of my favourite passages from the book:
- “School was where we went to get a ‘convent education,’ which meant, as far as I could tell, learning mathematics, English, geography, history, science, Hindi, a choice of Sanskrit OR French OR Kannada, singing, painting, How to Be English, and How to Be Good. The last two items were not officially on the syllabus, but there was no mistaking their importance…” (and this continues on to some very witty stuff).
- “After a while he gave up trying to resolve the inherent contradiction in May-dum: that someone who made such an ideal employer—who, indeed, redefined his very notion of memsahibs—could also, simultaneously, present what he could characterize as nothing other than a Lax Moral Outlook. It wasn’t just her style of dressing: scanty outfits that revealed her arms, her midriff, her legs in fashions most suitable for a prostitute or a film star or a foreigner. It was also her style of speaking with her friends: curses, jokes, comments, and conversation of a frankness that, on the whole, made him grateful that he could barely follow the English they spoke.”
A very impressive debut. I’m looking forward to reading her full length novel “The Hope Factory” soon.