A Mirrored Life: The Rumi Novel by Rabisankar Bal - A review

Book: A Mirrored Life - The Rumi Novel
Author: Rabisankar Bal
Translator: Arunava Sinha
Publisher: Random House India
ISBN: 978-8-184-00615-5
Pages: 215
Rating: 4/5

There are at least a few books every avid reader deems life-changing. Dozakhnama by Rabisankar Bal was one such book for me. For months after I’d read it, I walked around enveloped in its magical haze. It became an impossibly high yardstick that few books have been able to match up to. Naturally, when I heard about A Mirrored Life by the same author, I wanted to read it. I wanted to pit Bal against himself. Knowing it was a novel based on the life of the celebrated Sufi saint, Jalaluddin Rumi made the wait harder. I wanted to savour it, drown in it.

When the review copy finally came into my eager hands, I read it cover to cover in one
breathless sitting. Bal has this way with words… they stick to your skin and then to your soul. Tell me how one can stay unaffected with lines such as these?

'I am complete in you. This skin, blood, bones, marrow, mind, soul... all, all of it is you. This
existence is your existence.'

'You cannot count the number of creatures lurking inside a man. There's a rat, there's a bird too.
Don't be the rat. Try to be the bird.'

'Do you know why the flute weeps?
- It wants to return to the wood of reeds from which it was taken.'

Reading Bal is an immersive experience. The author becomes the subject becomes the reader and back. In his quintessential style, the author often tells a story within a story within a story. The rich oriental tradition of qissas comes alive in his work. Parables over moral discourse, metaphors over reality. Lines are artistically blurred and sometimes you’re not quite sure whose voice you’re hearing. But it doesn't matter because the beauty of these words is so sublime.

It’s no less than a mystical journey that one undertakes with Ibn Battuta, the narrator into the life and times of Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi. The book is populated with several other characters, historical and otherwise, who drift in and out of the plot enriching the narrative. Prime among them are Shamsuddin Tabrizi or Shams - the mad ascetic and Sultan Walad - Rumi’s favourite son and disciple. The book explores the Sufi saint’s relationship with each of these characters and the journey that takes him from being a Maulana (a religious scholar) to a whirling dervish.

But it is when he portrays the relationship between Shams and Rumi that the author is at his most profound. Rumi calls Shams ‘The Sun of Tabriz’, an expression of the deep love and reverence he feels for his spiritual mentor, friend and lover. The nature of Shams and Rumi’s alliance is historical fact, but it is the other-worldly flavour of their relationship that the author succeeds in bringing out. Nothing is profane in their consummate love for it is no different from a seeker’s love for God. The pain of separation and the ecstasy of union are penultimate in this equation. When Rumi whirls in divine rapture, the reader is drawn right in.

Peppered with Rumi’s own poetry, the book is a rich tapestry of human emotion, divine experience and artful storytelling. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that Bal outdoes himself when compared to his last book, but A Mirrored Life - The Rumi Novel is a powerful work unto itself. One must also doff their hat to translator Arunava Sinha who doesn’t miss a trick. I haven’t read the original Bengali version of the book, but I cannot imagine having missed any flavour. It occurs to me as the most faithful translation there can be. And am I walking around with a magical haze around me all over again? Ah, yes.

Dozakhnama by Rabishankar Bal: Impressions

Have you ever been burnt by a book? Been trapped between its pages, gasping for air? Have you felt that if you read any more you'd die; but if you didn't read, you'd die anyway? If you've not had the pleasure of such a pain, read Dozakhnama.

Page after page of this book, I've been burned. Page after page, I've suffered as a reader. Page after page, I've yo-yoed from heaven to hell and back. I've seen creations divine, and endured the labour pains that every creation demands. Author Rabishankar Bal takes you through the agonising journey of two creators of beauty and if you are a writer/poet yourself, the book feels like a kick in the gut. And yet I held on, read it as slowly as I could, wishing this sweet pain would never end.

Dozakhnama is originally a Bengali novel by acclaimed author, Rabishankar Bal and it has been translated into English by Arunava Sinha. Between its pages lie Saadat Hasan Manto and Mirza Ghalib conversing with each other from their graves. The sutradhar is an author who has stumbled upon an unpublished work of Manto's and has set out to translate it. In this mysterious manuscript is recorded this fantastical conversation between modern Urdu writer, Manto and one of the greatest poets in Indian history, Ghalib.

Speaking across nearly a century, Manto and Ghalib share the stories of their lives with ghosts for company in the night. Manto and Ghalib take turns in every alternate chapter to share a piece of their lives and soon the line between historical facts and fiction is blurred. Bal owns their voices with such confidence that one is loathe to believe that the words are not really Manto's or Ghalib's. Sprinkled with little dastaans and poetry by greats like Mir and Rumi and of course, Ghalib, the book charts not just the life of these two artists, but also the literary ethos of India from the 19th through the 20th centuries.

Though far removed from each other in time, Ghalib's and Manto's journeys seem similar. But then, all artists have journeys like these - travelling through their personal dozakhs, their private hells while creating honest art. Ghalib and Manto both had their share of love, poverty, victory, heartbreak, alcoholism, and persecution for their truth, their words. Ghalib's India at the end of Mughal rule, and Manto's India at the end of British rule are very different, yet the trials of an artist's life are the same, the cycle of pain and creation neverending. Bal chronicles their lives and poetry and pain in one seamless breath, creating this masterpiece of a book. A thought must also be spared for Arunava Sinha and how he too must have partaken of this fire when translating this book. It's brilliant and I believe none of the effulgence of the original work was lost in translation.

Do yourself a favour. Read this book.

50 Shades of Grey by E L James: Impressions

I'm very late for the global kinky party, but I finally read 50 Shades of Gray by E L James. And no, I'm not going to act like a literary elitist a-hole and say things like oh, this book is such a load of bull. Because it isn't, and I, ahem, lapped it up while it lasted. That, however, doesn't mean I'm rooting for it to get a Booker. I read it like millions of women (and men) in the world because hey, everyone needs a trashy break. That, and everyone has secret voyeuristic needs to satisfy. Oh, admit it already.

So 50 Shades of Gray is apparently, a what they call, a mommy porn book. I don't know about the mommy bit, but it is definitely like porn - exciting and boring, if you know what I mean. Actually, it's like an advanced M&B that struck gold. After the first three times of reading about Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele's kinky sexcapades, you're like 'yeah, okay, get on with it already'. Exciting, boring.

For the 30 people left in this world who still haven't read the book, it is the story of super successful-rich-handsome young industrialist, Christian Grey and nubile little Anastasia Steele, who get into this kinky dom-sub (dominant-submissive) agreement, resulting in a stormy relationship, BDSM sex, emotional turmoil, yada, yada. I was reminded very much of 'Pretty Woman' while reading the book - obscenely wealthy guy meet charming regular whore girl, except Christian Grey is young, has a dark past, and twisted in the head, and Anastasia Steele is a student and not a whore.

James writing is nice and pacy, and she tries hard to let the reader know how much she has researched wine, obscure music and the ways of the filthy rich. But the same cannot be said of her vocabulary, because by the end of the book, all you seem to have read are the words 'flush', 'dark', 'orgasm' and 'oh my'. Her use of  dialogue using Anastasia Steele's 'inner goddess' and 'subconscious, though' irritating at times, is mostly amusing. Her characterization is also good, making Christian Grey very believable and oh-so-desirable. And yes, Anastasia too.

I'll remember 50 Shades of Grey mostly because of the *cough* new things I've learnt from it, but will I read the remaining books of the trilogy? No. I'd much rather wait for Hollywood to make a movie and dish it out to me, and perhaps do the following. :D

Philida by André Brink: Impressions

I started reading Philida with great enthusiasm, compared as the author was with Gabriel Garcia Marquez in the PR note. Sure, there was some trepidation, because Marquez, although magical, is a tiresome author to read. But it had been a while since I read '100 Years of Solitude' and I was ready to take on another work that promised to be 'Marquez-esque'. Alas, I was reminded a few pages into the book that PR notes are only to be half-believed. That is not to say that André Brink is not a good writer or Philida not a good book; but it is not half as fantastical as the award-winning Spanish writer.

Coming to Philida, the story is set in the Cape in the year 1832 and is about a slave woman, Philida. On the eve of slave emancipation, the feisty Philida's voice of dissent kicks up some serious dust on her master's farm. Tired of unfulfilled promises of freedom by her lover and father of her children, Frans Brink, who is also her master's son, Philida approaches a slave protection agency and files a complaint against the Brinks. Predictably enough, Philida is banished from the Brink farm with her children, but she takes with herself her desire for freedom onward to life on another farm.Eventually, her dream is realised but not without some trials by fire.

While the plot is straightforward and even unimpressive, André Brink's strength lies is in his use of language. Although the novel is in English, the flavour of Afrikaans comes through very strongly. It is easier to empathise with the slave woman Philida, who speaks in the way English movies have made us believe Blacks do. Brink's talent as an Afrikaans writer has been recognised with him winning South Africa's most important literary prize, the CNA Award, three times. He has also twice been shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Another aspect that makes 'Philida' interesting is the author's ancestral connection with the protagonist. Had I not glanced at the acknowledgements page (as I usually do), I would have missed out on this important tidbit. The story is not entirely fiction, for Philida really features in the Brinks' family tree. It has made the author write like one would about his own.

Brink also throws in a good measure of philosophy in his narrative, and that is perhaps why some see the resemblance between his work and Marquez'. Sometimes, there are whole chapters on philosophic 'discourse' veiled in African myth. So, prepare to sometimes trudge through lessons from a chameleon's point of view or look at life through a bamboo copse.

Philida took me a long time to finish, dragging me through the long, hot days of the Caab (Cape), breaking my back with the injustice of the life of a slave, making me witness the atrocities of the Baas (Boss) and finally letting me breathe the intoxicating air of freedom. Take up Brink only if you can take all of it.  

Love, Peace & Happiness: What more can you want? By Rituraj Verma: Impressions

I always accept the honour of being asked to review a debut book by an author with a pinch of salt; especially if it’s an Indian author. With the publishing industry suddenly exploding in our faces, every third person seems to be writing a book. Admittedly, writing a book is extremely hard work, but I’ve come across so many disappointing works by so-called Indian English authors, that I have now grown wary of them. So I accepted this book with a rather long, unwieldy title for a review with some reserve. It didn’t help that the book’s cover design was juvenile.

But ‘Love, Peace & Happiness: What more can you want?’ (LPH) by Rituraj Verma did not entirely disappoint. It is, at best, trippy. The book appears to be a collection of short stories at first glance, but as one reads on, it turns out to be a series of stories revolving around a fixed set of people, somehow amalgamating into a novella. All stories are about man-woman relationships in the modern society. All couples have relationship patterns common to urban conditions, and are easily identifiable in this day and age. The characters cross paths in the course of the stories, and change their destinies.

Through characters placed in varying life situations, the author tries to make the reader ask himself some fundamental questions about life. What is love? How one may find happiness? What comprises peace? I will not go as far as to say that these stories are fodder for introspection, but sometimes there are questions one catches asking oneself.  

One unique aspect of LPH  is that the writer offers alternate endings to every story. These alternate ends are available to read on his website, and should a reader not like or agree with the way a story ends, he/she can choose another. While the idea is most innovative, I felt throughout the book that the author was holding back. He did not commit to a story entirely because he had to keep his options open. One finds him building the plot, holding the pace and suddenly slacking towards the end. Other readers may, of course, disagree. Honestly, I read alternate ends of only one story, and found them too insignificant to bother with.

The writer goes on this way with fair, mostly believable stories right up to the end, but it all changes in the last chapter. He adopts a style that is hugely different from the rest of the book, and one is left wondering what the author was smoking when he wrote it. It is part introspective, part crazy and entirely out of place in the book. But then, one must allow an artist of words his eccentricities. The book, on the whole, is a job done well.

Should you read it? I should say yes.

The Valmiki Syndrome by Ashok Banker: Impressions

I have to begin with my admission of having a hate-love (more hate than love) relationship with this author. Despite my ordeal with his Ramayana series, which is also something I’m currently reading, I chose to read The Valmiki Syndrome. Why? Partly, because I was ensnared by the title, and partly, because Random House asked me to review it. And at the end of the book, my perception of the author remains the same. However, the book wasn’t as bad as some other ‘preachy’ ones I’ve read; mostly because it uses mini stories to prove the point. Ashok Banker extols the value, and demonstrates the ancient technique of, katha (storytelling) as a way of gaining insight, knowledge and subsequently, wisdom in this book.

The book talks about The Valmiki Syndrome – the common human conundrum of trying to find the work-life balance. I’m not sure if a concept like this existed, or has been conjured up by the author. I think it is the latter. While using Sage Valmiki’s story as an example was okay, calling the whole problem of work-life balance ‘The Valmiki Syndrome’ was stretching it. The book could easily have been called something like ‘The Work-Life Question’, ‘The Urban Dilemma’ or something else that sounds self-help-ey. But Banker’s love of Ramayana and a clever marketing ploy may have prompted this title. There is a resurgence of interest in Indian mythology in the current generation, and like it tricked me to pick up the book, it will many others.

As I’ve mentioned above, the book has three mini stories about three very different lives. There is an extremely ambitious Suhasini; there is Sara, who rebels to find success in a field not approved of by her family; and there is the dreaded dacoit Ratnakaran, who kills and steals to make a living. The consequences of their chosen paths are very different – Suhasini, on a career overdrive, loses her husband and children; Sara succeeds on her path despite the initial estrangement from her family and goes on to get the best of both worlds; and Ratnakaran realizes, with the help of Rishi Narada, that his family does not really support his means, and goes on to mend his ways by treading the spiritual path.

Through the stories, the author tries to encourage the reader to ask oneself three fundamental questions about identity and life. Who am I? Who do I wish to be? How do I become that person? Once a person mulls upon and is able to answer these questions, he is able to find his life path. He is able to prioritise, act upon, and change his life situation for the better. These are pertinent philosophical questions and I liked the book for them. The author is able to demonstrate simply and easily their importance. The packaging of this ancient wisdom is clever.

My only misgiving, as with all of Banker’s books, is his style of writing. I find it boring, especially in parts where it is Banker speaking. As long as he has his story voice on, where the characters talk, he is tolerable. But when his own opinions come across, he begins to sound ‘bleh’. It’s like ‘I’m not preaching, but do this…’, ‘I’m not being a guru, but do that…’. Yeah, okay, Mister Banker, you’re not trying to preach, but you are. Don’t.

Manhunt by Peter Bergen: Impressions

I finished reading Peter Bergen’s Manhunt: From 9/11 to Abottabad – The Ten Year Search For Osama Bin Laden a couple of days ago, and although the book said so much to me, I find there is not much I have to say about it. These current affairs/general knowledge-y books are quite wasted on a person like me who chooses to not read the news. But it was hard to resist a book about a man who changed the course of humanity, when it presented itself. And through the 240 pages of the book, I lost myself in the fascinating, almost novel-like story of America’s hunt for Bin Laden after he launched what was perhaps the most brutal terrorist attack in the history of modern civilization.

The book takes us through Bin Laden and the American law enforcement agencies’ long parallel paths from 2001 through 2011 until they finally converge in Pakistan. Bergen traces the beginnings and rise of Bin Laden and America’s, especially, the CIA’s consequent search of him. He tells how from Somalia to Saudi to Afghanistan to Pakistan, from the Clinton to the Bush to the Obama administration, the deft Osama gave the Americans the slip for nearly two decades. The author recounts how the Bush administration made one expensive error of letting Osama slip by in the mountains of Tora Bora in Afghanistan soon after the 9/11 attacks and how it cost them hundreds of thousands of man hours and money. He goes on the say how things changed once Obama took over and how despite his anti-war stance, he gave it his all to find America’s number one enemy.

Bergen sketches Osama’s life on the run too. Sourcing from the many documents and proofs collected by the intelligence agencies, he describes Osama’s near infallible security measures, his astute leadership skills while in hiding and even some idiosyncrasies. He offers glimpses of his family life, especially his relationship with his wives and children, and close associates as well. It is easy to imagine a Bin laden holed up in the caves or in an inconspicuous bungalow when Bergen writes about it.

While Bergen’s writing is good, he never tries to be anything else but the journalist that he is. His lines are fact-laden, purposeful with not one unnecessary word.  You may well be reading newspaper reports because Bergen’s words lack emotion. However, his pace more than makes up for it, and will serve well devourers of news. As for me, I’ve said so much already, but do you notice how I’ve not said anything (significant) at all? Well, the bottom line is 2 out of 5.