Shantaram - My Review

      Being an obsessive, compulsive reader, I have spent a sizeable chunk of my life and a good part of my income buying books, reading and re-reading them. I hate buying books off second hand stores and I hate buying pirated versions. It has been my principle to buy original books. A book is more than just a product to be sold in the market. A lot of toil and soul goes into writing a book and I find it almost inhuman to even entertain the thought of depriving the writer a monetary gain that he/she so rightly deserves.

       I never pick my book based on popular opinion. I prefer taking my chance. If the book turns out to be boring, ah well, big deal. But on the other hand, if a book turns out to be a delightful read, it’s worth the investment of money and time. Right now, I have quite an impressive collection of books. I intend to hand them down as an heirloom :) In an age where even weddings happen online, I am not sure how much the future generation would appreciate a truckload of yellowed books, but I sure do intend to give it a try.

      I have been reading up English Classics of late and I am loving it. Today, having just read a very impressive page from one of the English Classics, I felt that the book actually struck a chord somewhere. Feeling weirdly emotional, I went back in time to dig out the last time when I felt so absolutely taken over by a book. And just then, a line crossed my mind.

               “Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting.”

       That line, that simple yet profound line has stayed with me, even years after I read it in one of the books that has influenced my life in such a big way, that I cannot even begin to explain. I cannot point out a trait and say “ Look, this is what I learnt from that book”. But, many a decision and many a bitter moment in my life have been passed through just from the sheer strength that I derived from reading this masterpiece. This line is but one of the many treasures that lay hidden in one of best written books of the century, “Shantaram”.

       Shantaram is almost an epic. If you are the kind who looks for popcorn entertainment, twists and turns and happy endings and sugary romance, Shantaram is not for you. Shantaram is a journey, a timeless travel into life, full of learning , pain, love and a myriad other emotions. After having completed reading the book, I remember clutching it to my heart and kissing it. That is how much I love that book. I cannot assure that you will go through the same emotions after having read it. Experiences vary from person to person. But what I can assure you is that the book will not disappoint you. At any level !

      The title may lead you into thinking that the book is about an Indian man. Yes, the novel is set in India. But the main protagonist of the story is an Australian prisoner who escapes from his 19 years of sentence in an Australian prison and ends up in India on a fake passport. Destiny brings him to Bombay ( Mumbai) and he meets Prabhakar, his humble Indian taxi driver friend who gives him shelter in a filthy slum in Bombay, away from the eyes of the law. Lindsay the Australian, goes on to be Linbaba in the slum and later in life, he becomes “Shantaram” when Prabhakar’s mother calls him that during his stay at the tiny village tuck away in rural Maharashtra. “ Shantaram” transalates to mean “ The Peaceful man”. But the entire book revolves around pain, crime, disease, death, drugs and a very poignant, profound and alluring definition of love.

      I do not intend to dissect and explain the story. But just believe me when I say it, time will just flow by while you read the book. It makes you wonder, it makes you cry, it makes you smile with tears flowing down your cheeks, it makes you want to go hold Lindsay’s hand and live his wretched life in the slum, it makes you say prayers for him and it makes you want to take the next flight to Bombay. Inspite of being written quite some time back, the book is relevant to this day and each night I went to sleep after having read a part of Shantaram, in a very strange way, I felt as if the events in the book were happening during my lifetime, right now in Bombay. That is how livid and tangible the events are. You know a book is good when you begin to be a part of it.

       Lin is a struggler, trying to make through life by peddling drugs and getting involved in counterfeit and crime. And yet, you will love him. He is no hero. He is a normal human who succumbs to pressure, cries out in pain, yearns to be loved and has his own failures to deal with. He is an anti-hero. In spite of his unromantic, drab, glamour-deprived life, as he ploughs through his days in Bombay, finding himself involving with thugs and murderers, you will push aside all the negativity and turn the pages to move with him. Twined into the narration, is a wealth of wisdom, surreptitiously intertwined with the story that just hits you the first time you read it. There have been many moments in the book when I turned the pages backward and re-read sections that I absolutely loved.

      Linbaba, Prabhakar, Didier,Karla,Abdullah,Abdel Khader Khan and the other characters of the book will take you through a sojourn that is almost spiritually enlightening. And yet there is nothing religious or spiritual about the story. There are no Godmen who will tell you about life, but there are marvellous moments in the story that will simply explain life to you in terms that you will immediately grasp. And terms that will stay with you for a lifetime.

      Being an Indian, I know my country well. So when Linbaba stays at Prabhakar’s village, or when he talks about the slums in Bombay, the construction sites, the poverty, the foreigners who give up their lives in their own countries and settle down in Bombay, peddling drugs and becoming a part of the local crime gang, I can totally relate to what he says. Being used to viewing my country through my own eyes, when Shantaram, a foreigner describes it for me, the picture of my country in general and Bombay in particular comes out as clear as a painting. The streets and gullies of Bombay, The Haji Ali Mosque, the beaches of Bombay and the Leopold Cafe are all real life landmarks in the wonderful city. And as Shantaram brings them into his story, the Bombay I have known, was shown to me in newer light. There is a certain romantic inclination for ths city and its filth. Such is the essential involvement of Bombay in Shantaram that even after all these years, I still remember Bombay as the place where Lindsay the Australian became Shantaram.

       Through his epic book, Gregory David Roberts brings to life, many moments from his own life. After having googled him out and read about him, Shantaram almost sounded like Roberts’ own autobiography. Read about his life and you will know what I mean. I could not help but draw parallels between Roberts’ life and his alter-ego Shantaram’s. For one, Roberts’ was a prisoner in an Australian jail before he began writing Shantaram :)

       If you are in the mood for aching hands and sleepless nights, Shantaram is just the thing for you! The book runs into 900 + pages and all the ”flipping back to re-read” moments will further add to the time that you will take to finish it :) Nevertleless, it is worth every hour of sleep that you will lose over it. I highly recommend this book as a must read. Take my word. You will love it !

       I will leave you with some of my favourite lines from the book. This should do enough to get you into buying an original copy of the book. :) Read on...

“Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it’s the other way around.”

“Every virtuous act has some dark secret in its heart; every risk we take contains a mystery that can’t be solved.”

“At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread instead is that we won’t stop loving them, even after they are dead and gone.”

“A dream is a place where a wish and a fear meet. When the wish and fear are exactly the same, we call the dream a nightmare.”

“The past reflects eternally between two mirrors -the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say.”

“It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to be in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured.”

“The tendency towards complexity has carried the universe from almost perfect simplicity to the kind of complexity that we see around us, everywhere we look. The universe is always doing this. It is always moving from the simple to the complex. “

“I dont know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us, or our endless ability to endure it”.

“Truth is a bully that we all pretend to like”.

If this review translates into 2 more Shantarams getting sold, my job is done :) Thanks for reading!

That day in the rain...

    This is yet another work of fiction from the time when i dabbled in storywriting :) Read on..
    I was just planning to get out of the house, when it started raining heavy..The tiny blue umbrella in my hand looked like an unworthy combat for the rain outside.Normally,on any other day,I would have loved the rains.Nothing could beat the bliss that I felt as I sat by the window,sometimes with a cup of coffee and a book,sometimes with tears in my eyes and sometimes with wet hair having just got out of the shower,but always,with a smile on my face, watching the rain hit the window panes.I would sit there for hours,watching the new drops of rain that hit the glass, making a game out of guessing which drop would flow down first and merge with another drop on it's way, making a tiny stream of it's own and then gathering up at the bottom of the window into a tiny pool and then trickling down the wall and into the garden mud,sending out a strange,alluring fragrance that merged into my being as I drew a deep breath to draw it all in.The scent of the first rains!

     But today was different.Today was so special all by itself, that it did not need the rains to add any further beauty to it.Today,was the day that I had spent sleepless nights over,thinking and re-thinking how I could make it more perfect.."More perfect" is an oxymoron..But for me, it was a possibility.For a day that had been so eagerly awaited, no happiness could be impossible.As I stood in the verandah waiting for the rain to stop,I realised that,even if the rain stopped,I could not save my sari from getting ruined.The moment I step my foot down,the muddy waters would splash all over my sari ruining the hems and staining the sari.The drizzle would dampen my hair and make it stick to my scalp.I could not even try to imagine what I would do with my new pair of matching footwear!And to think that I spent an entire day shopping for all this, so that I could look my best on this special day...With a long face, I settled down into the bamboo chair in the verandah and closed my eyes.The moment I did that,a tiny stream of tears ran down from the sides of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks,one stream drying half way through and the other trickling further down onto my neck..I was ashamed of myself.I was the same woman, who, when life threw the toughest of challenges, took it upon myself to face them all alone without a tear.But here I was,disappointed that it rained at a time when I wanted to walk straight in the sunshine and enjoy what I had strived so hard for...Anyway,I just decided,as I shamefully wiped the last tear out of my face, that I would not cry anymore.Nor would I got out in the rain and let two hours of dressing up go down the drain.Shopping for clothes and accessories is hard work.Especially for someone like me whose sense of fashion is not really great.I would not let all that go waste.I decided to stay put where I was and wait until the rain stopped.
     Closing my eyes shuts me off from the real world.Not always.But sometimes.At times when I am very happy,the best way of handling it,the way that works for me,is by closing my eyes.So I closed my eyes,and thought of the day when the strife that was about to end today,began.I remember how I fought with the entire household for him.I refused to eat and drink until the entire family agreed to what I had to say.After all, I could not afford to let him down.The day I decided to fight for him,I knew I had a tough path ahead.As a member of a joint family,it was important for me to convince all the members of the family.It was no easy job.And I could not be sure what our future would be like.I had no idea myself.Infact,getting myself to talk to the family itself demanded a lot of thought and introspection from my side.Only when I was convinced that I was ready for the end results,did I garner enough courage to open up.I still remember,as if it was yesterday,how the elders of the family called me a fool and asked me to revisit my decisions a million times.I was adamant. I expressed my firm decision that I was not ready to go back on my word.There was silence in the house.The only noise that could be heard was that of the great swing in the hall creaking under the weight of the people who sad grim-faced on it.The grandfather clock in the house went clicking by.No one said a word.The silence was killing me.That night I refused to eat.No one bothered.The next morning,with a broken heart, I saw him board the first train at dawn.I was alone at the railway station.I was weak,I needed support,I needed someone to hold me and tell me that everything would be alright soon.But there was no one.I was left all alone.

     I woke up with a start as the first rays of the evening sun hit my face.The rain had stopped.Half an hour had passed since I fell into this reverie.I looked at my wrist watch.I still had an hour.In my excitement to meet him,I had gotten ready two hours in advance..Standing up and straightening the creases on my well starched sari, I got of the gate and walked to the auto stand.I got into the auto and began the countdown.My heartbeat was racing up,I could not help smiling,I kept staring out of the window.Everything I saw made me happy.So lost was I, in my happiness,that until the autowallah shouted "Madam,Station!" I did not realise that we had reached. I paid him in a hurry and got out.

      I could only imagine how happy he would be to see me in this sari.This was his gift.I wanted to look my best.I wanted to see him happy.I just wanted to hug him and forget the world and it's pains.As I walked down the footbridge,I saw him in the distance.I had grown so used to him,that I could recognise him from behind even from a distance.He was a part of my instincts! I smiled and quickened my pace.He turned back and saw me too.He picked up his bag and started running towards me..All the way,grinning from ear to ear and watching me without batting an eyelid.At last the moment was here...He threw himself into my arms,hugged me tight and said "I have missed you so much amma"...

       I again went back to that day at the same station when he had hugged me just the same way and said almost the same words "I will miss you amma".I had cried then.I cried now too.But they were tears of happiness.The happiness of seeing a son walking back alive into my arms from the enemy line.The happiness of having had the courage to fight against my family for letting my son follow his dreams.The happiness of having the will power to send my son back to a place where I had lost my husband.The happiness of being alive to watch this day.It was all about happiness.And as I drowned myself in his warm hug, I wished with all my heart,that this moment would last forever....Forever...