Remarkable anthology of short stories, ‘A Case Of Indian Marvels’ marks diversity, range and depth of fiction in India | Books and Literature News,The Indian Express
The 40 stories spark hopes that not only is prose fiction alive and well in the age of “content”, it can only get better.
Like every act of hyperbole, A Case of Indian Marvels is bound to fall short of its promise – among the 40 stories, by Indian writers and writers of Indian origin, some are more evocative than others. Yet, on the whole, the anthology is a comforting companion and one that sparks the hope that not only is prose fiction alive and well in the age of “content”, it can only get better.
For some time now, people have been writing obituaries to fiction as a genre and Indian writing in English in particular. Davidar’s compilation of millennial and Gen Z writers puts paid to that notion. Only a handful of the 40 stories are translations – and they do stand out. Amal’s “The Devouring Sea”, for example, is a haunting, searing snapshot of desire, ambition and the dangerous sexiness of the sea. It is the perfect trailer for the uninitiated into the trove of emerging writers in Malayalam. But what is as interesting is how many of the vast majority of the writers writing in English have managed to retain the aesthetic syntax of regional languages. Avinuo Kire’s “Power to Forgive” and Sadaf Wani’s “Gobayer” are tales from Nagaland and Kashmir. Aravind Jayan’s bank manager trying to uphold values that have long been forgotten, and can invite a threat of violence if preached in ‘amrit kaal‘, holds particular relevance in the India of today. It reminds us that self-censorship is so often just a means of self-preservation. So many of these tales achieve what is, perhaps, the most significant ancillary benefit of a story well-told – consonance with a reader so far removed from the reality of the characters.
Many of the stories are by writers who have already received critical acclaim, some are minor celebrities – Meena Kandaswamy, Prayaag Akbar, Kanishk Tharoor, Aishwarya Subramanian, Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar, to name just a few. The advantage of an anthology is that each story must stand on its own, in a diverse group where the writing is all that matters. The distinctions that appear are not of English and non-English, translated and original but rather of honesty and technique, art and craft, story and polemic. The best of the writers can straddle these dichotomies. But sometimes, often surprisingly, given how frequently reputations precede reading, there is too much technique and craft in some to the detriment of – and forgive this cliché – truth and art.
Tharoor and Akbar, for example, tell parables. One about language, another New India. Their stories are brilliantly built, and make for a great, quick read on the morning commute. Yet, it seems that the stories are a vehicle for some other idea – a critique of language, the colonial well-meaning anthropologist, the political economy. On the other hand, Karan Madhok’s “Public Record” meanders and rambles as it follows a man in pain through aimless rides on the Delhi Metro. The protagonist follows people and tries to confront his demons. It is not, in a sense, as masterful as the stories by better-known and trained writers. Yet, any frequent commuter on the Metro will see themselves echoing the curiosity and even the pathos of the main character. In the honesty of this microcosm, there is a wide appeal and visceral sense of the city.
Another curious pattern emerges from the 40 stories. Stories from outside the metropolis, and by women confront and explore desire head-on. The more sophisticated, upper-class, upper-caste male writers seem not to tread here. This is understandable, and perhaps even welcome. There is now so much violence and violation associated with heterosexual male desire that exploring it with honesty may evoke a sense of fear. That fear may well be limited and even imaginary – it does not seem to have infected the male writers from beyond the English-as-a-first-language set. Perhaps that is why, in some cases, the creative sentiment behind some of the stories feels artificial, even if the language and structure are quite delectable. Or, maybe, this reviewer is just over-reading snapshots of writers’ imaginations.
Rating: 5