A Girl and a River

This is quite a singular novel; the first reading of it was partially confusing, in large part because it was not at all clear in what direction the novel or the plot were headed. However, a second reading -- which was very necessary -- rendered the reading experience a more interesting and richer one, and with pre-knowledge of the characters and ending, there was the opportunity to relish the delicacy and complexity of its details and perhaps more significantly, the point of those details. It really is a novel which requires at least two readings to do it full justice -- the first may well leave the reader groping a little, while the second enables the reader to not only fully comprehend the plot, but also to appreciate all the subtle nuances, to enjoy the lush complexity and richness of details without floundering.

There are several reasons for this. As already mentioned, the direction of the novel is not made explicit till quite far into the narrative. For another thing, the structure oscillates between the 1930s and 1980s, the former being a recreation of the secrets and lives which the protagonist-first-person-narrator of the 1980s chapters seeks to discover. (The 1930s chapters have an omniscient narrator.) This in itself is a very interesting structure, but confusingly, the protagonist-narrator actually does not discover much of what is related in the 1930s chapters -- the reader is privy to a lot of information which is left unknown to the progatonist, right unto the end. Also, the protagonist-narrator of the 1980s chapters is not named, adding to the confusion and sense of bewilderment. There are 5 generations of women in this story, and on many occasions, it is not immediately obvious whose mother or grandmother is being referred to. It takes considerable concentration to follow the plot correctly -- which perhaps if written differently, could have been smoother and easier for the reader of average-intelligence to follow, especially upon the first reading.

It is also not an easy novel for those not initiated into Indian history; it assumes a lot of prerequisites from its readership. Nor does it explain key terms, like 'samaja', and 'swayamsevaks'. Some are self-explanatory from their context, but by no means all, nor comprehensively. And this pre-requisite knowledge is entirely necessary for the plot to make sense, and for the novel's impetus and dramatic weight.

The whole narrative pivots upon the life of Kaveri, named after the river. The depiction of Kaveri's household, extended family, position within her community, are quite elegantly depicted by Usha, with a light touch and great attention to detail. By the end of the novel, the reader is given to understand that the plot is also based on the narrator-protagonist's burning desire to discover her family secrets and histories, given that she only has a few clues in the form of a couple of books and an old letter.

The relationship between Mylaraiah and Rukmini, great-grandparents (and also grandparents -- this complication is part of the plot) of the protagonist- narrator, is beautifully drawn by Usha, with an incredibly delicate touch. Rukmini was but a child when the 22-year old Mylaraiah married her, educated her and moulded her, but Rukmini is also a bright woman with a mind of her own, albeit a mind pre-conditioned to please her husband. Their relationship is a mutually reflecting one, and although Mylaraiah is the clear patriarch of the household, Rukmini has considerable amounts of personal and political autonomy. It is particularly significant what Rukmini then wishes for her own daughter:

"I do not want you ... to be hemmed in by motherhood and domesticity before you have had a chance to know your mind; I do not want you to be led into womanhood by the hand, on a straight and narrow path, under the umbrella of a husband's care, for it will mean you cannot step out of its shade, however benign ... I want for you a full life but for that you will have to want it first yourself and you will have to prove your mettle."

However, these sentiments are not actually communicated from mother to daughter:

There were so many things she wanted to tell her daughter, so many things she could not explain to herself completely thoughts that even as they passed through her mind, seemed ponderous and clumsy. There were things that had to be slipped in, in between snatches of laughter but she could not strike the same pitch of intimacy with her daughter as her mother had done ... how was she to tell her daughter these things without frightening her? She longed so much for her mother's methods, her imagination, her lightness of touch. Of late, she lacked the will as well. Like Setu, she wished Kaveri was adept at reading between the lines.

This is a fair representation of Usha's writing style -- multi-layered, beautifully complex, subtle and nuanced, delicately etched out. However, there are always confusing elements -- for example, the last sentence of the quote above -- it is unclear as to whether Setu, unlike Kaveri, is adept at reading between the lines, or whether Setu, like Rukmini, also wishes Kaveri is adept at reading between lines. There are many ambiguities of this nature in Usha's writing style.

Another very delicately etched relationship is that between Mylaraiah and Narayana Rao, a childhood peer and the man intended for Rukmini, but for an accident of fate. These two men hold opposing political stances, and in personality type, are each others' antithesis. It is not a case of impending confrontation or conflict, there is no such climax in this novel; it is the uneasy tension between the two men, who have placed their bets on very different horses. There are many interesting and complex relationships within this novel, which adds to its richness of layers and ramifications, which are very much to the author's credit, except as said before, it would perhaps require second and subsequent readings for these layers to fully be comprehended.

Rich as this novel is in detail, were it a tapestry, it would be one wrought with many quiet subtle shades, no loud strong primary colours. On this tapestry, many interesting aspects of the society come to light -- for example, the highly orthodoxed arranged marriage of the 11-year-old Kalyani, daughter of a man devoted to Gandhi's teachings and apparently the champion of new values. The contradiction between political and personal is naturally highly intruiging and, Usha is an author who is adept at depicting such instances, and the impacts of it on lives whose orbits touch.

The novel is structured into 5 distinct parts, and part V of the novel is the most coherent and clarifying. The threads start to come together, bits of information provided earlier on fall into place, and like the protagonist- narrator, we comprehend, with the distance of time to simplify the issues, just how the pieces of the jigsaw fitted together. However, perhaps paradoxically, part V sylistically speaking, is also the least elegant, the least nuanced, the most direct and explicit.

On the whole, for all that it is a volatile period Usha sets much of her novel in, it is a curiously low-key novel. It is an exciting period in India's history, and Usha's characters are remarkably believable and realistic in the complex ways in which they are involved and affected, but the novel in itself is not exactly an exciting one. It is difficult to put one's finger on precisely why, but I would hazard a guess that this has much to do with the novel's lack of momentum. If the novel were a river, it would not be a gushing, swift flowing one, but one with many little eddies, many little undertows and underwater currents. It is a consistently interesting plot, if not quite gripping. Another key factor could be that although each character is well depicted and lifelike, none are made particularly easy to identify with in entireity, though aspects of the characters can often be identified with easily enough. The protagonist-narrator is perhaps the least sympathetic of all the characters, the least likable, and perhaps deliberately so designed. The result is that the reader is perpetually held at arms length, never allowed to totally lose themselves in the novel -- which is perhaps by authorial intention, and very effectively managed, if so. The reader is always outside of the novel, always look in from beyond, in terms of both time and space. It is a tale related to the reader, rather than an invitation to step in and immerse oneself. It is an intelligently written novel which invites the reader to read, analyse and judge continually and intelligently.

Although this novel may take a second reading for its gems to full come to light, it is a novel which amply rewards subsequent readings and unpackings. It has Usha's distinctive lightness of touch, it has a strong framework, it has a wealth of marvellous details, and it could not be further away from exoticas and melodramas. It is a novel well worth reading, a novel that is fresh and original in its tone and conception, and a very strong contribution to the genre as a whole.

Reviewed by Lisa Lau. This review first appeared HERE

Lisa Lau is a lecturer and researcher in the UK. Her areas of interest include literature, contemporary cross-cultural fiction, South Asia, gender studies, diasporic communities, postcolonialism, cyberspace research, and cultural geographies.