Book Review: A Fine Balance

I was scared to commit to this book because it is 603 pages long and im just constantly running errands! After a couple of hours of reading it though the book became my constant companion, and the chief cause of my eye strain the past week or so, as i read it even in cars at night.

Ooooh, I see from ths cover that Oprah has recommended this book! And why wouldnt she? It has everything possible for bleeding hearts and democrat type people. Not to mention armchair critics of the government, people who were old enough to remember partition and the seventies, human rights activists, policy makers, students, etc. The book spans a couple of generations, offering a truly cosmopolitan perspective as it paces through the various types of conflicts and evils plaguing India even today, - casteism, violence, sectarianism, stereotypes, patriarchy and its accompanying chauvinism, thoughless economic development, the havoc political parties have created on individuals, groups, and nature. The blindness of rhetoric. And that is one of the main things that Mistry really opens our eyes to - the failure of implementation that hinders progress in a world that is too some degree to diverse and unequal for its own good (or those at the top or bottom, as the case may be).

The book deals with its main four protagonists, a middle-aged independent and disciplined Parsi lady, a Parsi student from the Himalayas, and two lower-caste Hindu tailors from a village who come to an 'unnamed city by the sea' seeking their fortune. To superbly complement them is an excellent supporting cast of assorted slumdwellers, beggars, rent-collectors, students, policemen, uppercaste bastards, a nasty-ass brother, - a vision of Bombay in its utter chaos - the intertwining of the lives of those who live in the apartment complexes and those who live below and everyone inbetween during the Emergency period of Indira Gandhi's reign.

To say the book is shocking, heartwarming, depressing, tear-inducing, eye-opening, is to not do the sweep of this book justice. In just a few characters Mistry has presented India. India with her problems, her fears, her daily struggles, her irony, her humour, her small mercies. His characters are drawn painstakingly and with compassion, not merely through their words, but also their actions - the determined struggle of Dina Dalal, her bouts of depression, her quiet strength and latent kindness (the late Jennifer Kendall of 36, Chowringhee Lane would have been perfect for a movie adaptation of this book had it been written earlier!), the lost, conflicted, innocent attractiveness of Maneck Kohlah, Omprakash's horniness and hot temper, Ishvar's supplication and grace of manner, Rajaram's verbosity and helpfulness, Thakur Dharamsi's absolute rot-in-hell BASTARDNESS, Ali's warmness, Dukhi's courage, Nusswan's oiliness, Vasantrao Valmik's utterly random appearance like an omen at a time of turmoil and change, Beggarmaster's likeness to Mr. Marley, Ebenezer Scrooge's partner from A Christmas Carol, Shankar's obliging manner, Avinash's idealism, the kittens! - for a book that has so many men in it, its DAMN interesting and not that much about sex! (j/k)

The book ends the way life does - the way its supposed to. But the most lingering message, as you resign yourself to daily life after the grind of the book, is the will of the human spirit to prevail, over and and above all our material ephemera - be it our bodies, our possessions, our loves. We change, we adapt to our circumstances, or we decide to put a stop to it all. We take what we can get. We live till we die, and we try to make life better in whatever way we can, through the assertion of the little power in our hands, be it our hearts, our limbs, or an attitude. I wish this book hadnt ended. I dont know what made me more sad - the ending or the end. But now my days stretch interminably before me, meaningless. My perception of every beggar on the street has changed, my curiosity about life behind other walls increased. Slumdwellers have my admiration, and politicians my contempt. Yup, life moves on the way it must.

Do I need to conclude? Read it you bums!