I call this the ’’Seasons of Love’’ because once I probed beneath the surface of darkness I found light. I found love in this book. Love for humanity. It is like a door left ajar. You see something and something is unseen. You feel this intense need to question and introspect your survival. While reading this book I could visualize the trials and tribulations of the people living in the section of Calcutta christened the ’’city of joy’’ by Dominique Lapierre.
I wouldn’t delve much into the story but the way it has made a difference to my existence. (No, I haven’t turned into a saint) .The story is about human beings who live in abject penury, suffering from a scourge of diseases, hunger, malnutrition, eunuchs but above all EXISTENCE. The protagonist of the novel is Hasari Pal, a peasant who along with his family comes to Calcutta for a living. He gets the job of a rickshaw puller and lives in a place full of filth, squalor, lepers, excreta and sadness. One character that I particularly liked in the book was Stephen Kovalski, who abandons everything and seeks refuge in Calcutta amidst the maelstrom of life and death. Another person who dedicates his life for the well being of the hapless beings is Dr. Max Loeb, a dispirited American Doctor. It’s a sort of rejuvenation and resurrection for the Doctor. He says,
’’The smiles of my brothers in the city of joy are lights that will never be extinguished in me’’.
The death of Hasari Pal at the end of the book doesn’t elicit a cathartic feeling in the readers but you feel for a father whose duty it is to get his daughter married, even if it means selling his bones, flesh and blood after his demise.
(All those people who feel that dowry is the prerogative of the male gender must read this book especially this chapter)
But Anandnagar (meaning city of joy) is not in a state of dystopia. One can sense the joy and fervour in the way people celebrate festivals, weddings and other events. (Not very different from the way you and I do). But the reader wishes that this spring of joy should be a little longer than the winter of woe....
After reading this book I have begun to give importance to things that I considered banal and trite thus far. For instance, the author writes ’’I no longer fight for parking space or I instinctively turn off the electricity when I leave the room or use my bar of soap to the very end’’
One can just be a silent onlooker when one sees suffering around or decide to do something about it. It’s easier said than done. The other day at Kurla station (A local station in Mumbai). I saw an old man preparing himself for subsistence for that day. His meal consisted of 4 Marie biscuits and a cup of cutting chai (½ cup of tea) because he doesn’t have the luxury of dipping chocolate cookies in tea the way I do. A miniscule part of my meal is bread and butter for someone. But what caught my attention was that I saw him crumble those 4 biscuits and mixing it with tea to form a thick mixture so as not to get pangs of hunger later in the day.
Well I was not overwhelmed with sensitivity and didn’t do anything. (I am a hypocrite). My train arrived soon after and I left off in a scurry leaving the old man in his world of destitution and misery.
’’ Because of the festivities in anandnagar, there were not many people along the route to mark the passing of an innocent child. In any case death was so natural a part of everyday life in the City of Joy that no one paid particular attention to it’’
(SOME ’’FOOD’’ FOR THOUGHT)