I started reading Tomb of Sand when it had been shortlisted for the International Booker, but while I appreciated the writing, I couldn’t ‘get into’ the book, and put it aside. I knew that I would return to it someday, but never realised it would take nearly three years for me to do so, or that when I attempted it the next time I would ending up loving the book as much as I did!
Why do I love the book so much?
The book is divided into three parts, and since each is distinctly different from the other, the answer too has to be in three parts too.
Part 1 of the book is in Vilambhit laya. Nothing happens. Ma is on the bed facing the wall, and for all practical purposes seems to want to become a part of the wall itself. Her family tip-toes around her. Bade who is described as the “elder son”, though there doesn’t seem to be another son who would make him “elder”. His wife, Bahu. His sister, Beti. The “Overseas Son”. Sid, the other son who though older doesn’t act in a manner that gives him the right to be called that. An odd assortment of servants. The people and situations are familiar and they are described with such empathy that you alternately feel for the person who is narrative that particular part of the story. The narrative abounds in magic realism. The Door which seems to have the ability to meld itself into every front door of the house the family lives in. The crysanthamums that are almost part of the family. The Cane which the Overseas Son brought for his grandmother, the cane which has butterflies fluttering around it, the cane that becomes the Kalpataru. The pace is slow, but the prose is so delightful that you immerse yourself in the words and imagery.
Just when you are settling into the book, the pace picks up in Part 2. Ma goes to live with Beti. Beti’s beautifully decorated house which is an extension of her own space is colonised. Ma brings in a cook and a cleaner. Rosie, a transwoman, becomes a daily visitor and Ma’s confidant. Visitors drop in unannounced. The doorbell suddenly discovers it has a voice. Ma and Rosie start converting scraps of cloth into useful objects. Friends and neighbours start dropping off used clothes to be upcycled. Ma’s bangles sing, or are they Beti’s bangles? Bade is thoroughly disgusted with what’s happening. He climbs a tree to see how his mother is doing, but instead starts dreaming about every exquisite saree he purchased for his mother, and starts hanging them from the branches of the tree for the benefit of the crows which sit down a take notes. The book is firmly in Madhya laya performing an exquisite composition. No longer are people who they were in Part 1- they have changed, some perceptibly, some more subtly. Ma is becoming reckless like Beti, Beti is becoming discerning like Ma. Then Rosie disappears. She has been killed. Ma wants to go back to Pakistan and fulfill a promise she had made to Rosie.
Part 3 is in Druth laya. Ma and Beti witness a performance at the border. Writers who have written about Partition perform their works. Ma and Beti cross over. They visit Lahore. Ma no longer needs her cane. She knows where everything is. They follow a trail only Ma knows about. Memories of Partition. The futility of dividing people who considered themselves the same. The story of Ma, long before she became Ma unfolds. Why do young people presume the elderly didn’t have a life before they were forced to become who they became?
You do not read Tomb of Sand. You experience it. It came into my life when I was ready to embrace it, and I am glad I didn’t force myself to read it before I was ready.
A word on the translation: at no time did I feel the book hadn’t been originally written in English. The sentence construction, the word play, the judicious use of multiple languages other than English. This book proves that if writing is an art, so is translation. I do wish I had the ability to read the book in Hindi so I could compare the two, but I am happy that Daisy Rockwell’s talent brought Gitanjali Shree’s genius to life for me.
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