a fine balance
just finished this book a couple of nights ago, up until 2 a.m. coz i couldn't put it down in the end, which surprised me because it took me a little while to get into it.
reading suroor's most recent post reminded me of the story: a woman hires two tailors to work for her in her home, and she tries very hard to maintain a distance from them, to make sure they don't take advantage of her, but slowly she discovers some of their painful histories, and walls come down and her heart is moved...
mistry's book is about friendship, but it also paints a picture of a world we never really delve into because it's so uncomfortable in our comfortable lives - the vast world of india's poor, in the mid-1970's. living in illegal huts in a field by a railroad, taking craps in the morning in the tracks and having to jump up when the train comes, being subject like so many leaves in the wind to the heartless corruption of even the most petty officials - everyone open to a bribe no matter what suffering is caused by the injustice, yet almost all are victims of the same system.
mistry is a master at making you care about his characters though! that was what i came out of the book with - their stories and their fates lingered on after i closed the covers. one of the cover blurbs said something about how you won't look at the poor with the same eyes after reading this... oh, all of this sounds so trite, really, what i'm saying, what this blurb says. i know i live in a bubble, i know i've been sheltered all my life, time and again i feel guilty for it... but it's what my parents struggled so hard to make possible for me, so i wouldn't have to know such suffering. then why is it so hard for me to reach a hand out of this bubble and make what's in my heart sprout into something useful? when i give it's like droplets, pinches from my fingers. really, when i do anything it's like that. i'm almost 30, my whole life is passing this way. i don't know how to move myself... i'm too comfortable with being comfortable...
reading suroor's most recent post reminded me of the story: a woman hires two tailors to work for her in her home, and she tries very hard to maintain a distance from them, to make sure they don't take advantage of her, but slowly she discovers some of their painful histories, and walls come down and her heart is moved...
mistry's book is about friendship, but it also paints a picture of a world we never really delve into because it's so uncomfortable in our comfortable lives - the vast world of india's poor, in the mid-1970's. living in illegal huts in a field by a railroad, taking craps in the morning in the tracks and having to jump up when the train comes, being subject like so many leaves in the wind to the heartless corruption of even the most petty officials - everyone open to a bribe no matter what suffering is caused by the injustice, yet almost all are victims of the same system.
mistry is a master at making you care about his characters though! that was what i came out of the book with - their stories and their fates lingered on after i closed the covers. one of the cover blurbs said something about how you won't look at the poor with the same eyes after reading this... oh, all of this sounds so trite, really, what i'm saying, what this blurb says. i know i live in a bubble, i know i've been sheltered all my life, time and again i feel guilty for it... but it's what my parents struggled so hard to make possible for me, so i wouldn't have to know such suffering. then why is it so hard for me to reach a hand out of this bubble and make what's in my heart sprout into something useful? when i give it's like droplets, pinches from my fingers. really, when i do anything it's like that. i'm almost 30, my whole life is passing this way. i don't know how to move myself... i'm too comfortable with being comfortable...
posted by Ayesha | 2:39 PM
6 Comments:
THAT book I cannot forget. It made me almost want to do what the protagonist does in the end.
yeah. i actually turned the last page thinking - it CAN'T end like this...
Salamaat,
but don't you think it's ironic that the more privileged one takes that route, while the ones that went through all the crap that life threw at them still persevered?
That really clung to me.
Whoa, that book is unforgettable man...it oozed of despair.
maliha, i agree - that was the first thing that struck me. the one who had the most going for him gave it all up, while the other three maintained their friendship despite their unimaginable losses (poor poor om who was going to be married!)
We all are too comfortable, Ayesha. All of us who have the luxury to communicate online and talk about the poor. But yes, we should do something.
I take my children to orphanages and let them see, talk and meet other children. Two years ago I took them to Pakistan. That was my 4th visit to the country and my children's first and I went only so they could see what it feels like to be on the other side of the "railway track." Children must be taught empathy and kindness. I guess I'll blog about this :)
rohinton mistry is by far one of the best writers to come from the subcontinent... he is so detailed and on spot about things, it chops my head off
Post a Comment
<< Home