The year 2014 was, in a lot of ways, a landmark year in the history of modern India. It was the year of the General Elections fought on the promise of removing corruption and promising development. It was a time when everybody was talking about the demographic dividend and of how, with the correct policies, India could potentially capitalize on it and become a global economic superpower. 2014 was a year when people were bullish about the future and voted for change. It was also a time when some people feared that the old way of living in communal harmony was in danger.
In Quarterlife, Devika Rege takes on the ambitious task of chronicling how different people looked at the changing politics in 2014. Everybody expected things to change, but depending on who they were and what their aspirations were, they looked at the future very differently. It was a year when cracks that you never noticed became virtually unsurmountable fissures.
The book traces the life of three protagonist – Naren Agashe, who at the same time when he received a green card also finally accepted that in the US, regardless of his brilliance, he will always remain an outsider. He returned to India, where he capitalized on his surname, his Brahminical good looks and his allure as a former Wall Street insider to launch himself into an orbit which he could never aspire to in the US.
His college flat mate, Amanda, is a white woman from a privileged background who, quite predictably, comes to India to discover herself. She is overwhelmed by the extremes that she witnesses and by the divisions that she never existed. Naren’s brother, Rohit, is a filmmaker who gets by through good networking, and by having pliable views. When he sets out on a mission to rediscover his roots, he comes under the influence of a Hindu fundamentalist which leads to his friends cutting off ties with him.
Quarterlife traces the growth of each of these characters, but it also looks at the diverse set of people they come in contact with. Ifra, for instance, is a woman born to privilege, who after studying abroad, chooses to return to India to work in the social sector. She is constantly profiled in magazines because of the work she does, but does she really understand the caste dynamics of the slum community where she works?
She has a fancy degree, but is she the best person to lead a grassroots organization and provide direction to people with far more experience than her? Will her class privilege protect her the communally charged atmosphere? Is there a future for her in the interfaith relationship with a Hindu? Will her family, broadminded though they are, accept her boyfriend as a potential partner? Does she want to stay with him, or leave the country?
There are so many characters like Ifra scattered throughout the book. Each of them is defined by a certain set of demographic details, but each of them is much more than the sum of their religion, their wealth, their sexuality, and even the background they grew up in. These characters collide and clash, they reexamine who they are and change accordingly, their relationship with each other changes. The book is a snapshot of India in the years where the book is set. Some of the characters behave in a manner which I believe is inconsistent with who they are, but people are unpredictable, and who am I to impose my expectations on them?
One part that particular stood out for me was when Amanda finds out that the penthouse where Naren’s parents stay is a home which he himself has never lived in. She is further surprised to learn that even the house Naren grew up in had been in his family only since his father’s generation. She compares it to the fact that her parents are living in a house which has been in the family for generations. One considers India to be country with a long and glorious history, and we consider India superior to upstarts like the United States. Yet, in reality, India is a country that keeps reinventing itself and there are no long traditions here. The book is sprinkled with little insights like this, which make it a treat to read.
The book has a deep cinematographic quality which immensely appealed to me. One section is about the Ganpati Visarjan in Bombay, which is told entirely through a montage of snippets from many participants and observers. A family living in a penthouse in West Bandra which does the visarjan in a bucket on the balcony. A Parsi socialite looking down on the processions and reminising about how things have change.
A Muslim lower middle class family shutting the doors and retreating into the inner rooms because they fear the crowds. The Christian domestic help from Chhattisgarh, who sees the procession as a way to engage with the city. The politicians belonging to different parties who all want to be seen as a part of the procession. The white female filmmaker who unfortunately gets caught in the frenzy. The city of Mumbai comes alive in this section, as it does throughout the book. The city too is a character and it undergoes as much change as the other characters do.
I found the last section extremely interesting because it was told from a slightly unexpected perspective. But, if you think about it, that perspective was always there, though hidden in plain sight.
The author put in extensive research before writing the book, and her attention to detail and her empathy for the characters comes out in every page. The book could have taken the form of a non-fiction narrative, yet she chose to write it as a work of fiction, which actually makes the book even more powerful. Quarterlife is a book that will not just help us to relive and understand where we were as a country a decade back, but also use that knowledge to better understand where we are today.
No comments:
Post a Comment