"A Fine Balance" By Rohinton Mistry

Its past one o clock at night and I should have been in the bed two hours ago in order to be prepared to reach office on time tomorrow but here I am trembling and shaking, unable to move with the baggage of having read a saga of great misfortunes in the book “A Fine Balance” by Rohinton Mistry. I toiled with last 100 pages for more than week with a meek hope that somehow the author will contradict the statement made over and over again in the book, “everything ends badly”.

“A Fine Balance” is a story of four people and how their lives get intertwined with each other, yet their fate remains solely theirs.  Dina Dalal is woman in her forties, a widow and is trying hard to lead a dignified life without taking help from her snobbish elder brother Nusswan. She had always been the tough nut to crack for her brother with her indomitable spirits. She married a man of her own choice much against his will. Her husband died after 3 years of their marriage and she never married again.  She gets into a contract with a garment company and hires two tailors, Ishvar and Om. Om is Ishvar’s nephew and they belong to the Chamaar community. Ishvar and Om had come to city to ward off their past which stinks of ill-treatment, sufferings, burnt bodies and with them a whole generation of hope, love and happiness. For a steadier income, Dina decides to accommodate a paying guest into her flat. Maneck, Dina’s ex-classmate’s son enters the scenario.

Set in the emergency era, the story impeccably handles the details of the world the government creates for the poor and the world that is ultimately created. For person born in the nineties like me who had known nothing about those turbulent times, the book indeed drafts out the era with precision. And the precision comes out boldly with the characters the author has painted in bright colours even though their lives are painted in stale chalk powder.

This is not the book you would want to open and re read again as once you have read it, it will remain with you and direct your understanding of life. You will feel sad and will remain in despair for a long time, accusing the author of stealing you a happy ending. You will curse him for over exaggeration and will produce a catastrophe at the end of every misfortune. But you will surely thank the author for writing such brilliant novel which has greatly changed your perception of life.

P.S Please share your reviews on the book if you have read it.  

Sailing over lives: I Am No Mother Teresa

Walking into the lanes of the slum dwellers haven, Iti felt an unusual ache in her heart. Often she had thought about these people and sighed and pitied at their animal like existence. She was not sure what she was feeling today, the happy faces and cheerful demeanour contradicted her opinion. Kids playing on the dirty streets flanked by garbage, open gutters, shit and everything despicable evoked trivial guilt into her being. Why are they happy? The question hovered over.

Between her thoughts, Shiv interrupted her to show her his dwelling. Tot her surprise the dwelling was a lot cleaner and habitable than any other she had stumbled upon before. Bare brick walls covered with a tin roof. There were no doors and entrance was through opening covered by an old rug. She hesitated to enter, waiting for some to come out and give her the permission to invade someone’s private territory. But Shiv quietly led her inside. His mother was nowhere to be seen. The place was cleaner and organised to clichéd description of a slum dwelling. A 21” T.V in one corner, an old double bed, a rack neatly stacked with few clothes, one racking holding the utensils atop it a gas burner. Everything hinted towards a poor yet dignified existence.

Shiv took out a folding chair from beneath the bed and offered her to sit. Why was she here? What can she offer this family? What has dragged her to come here? She was no Mother Teresa. Neither can she pretend to be one. She began to rehearse how will she start a conversation with Shiv’s mother and before she could make up anything, his mother appeared.

"Namaste", mother gently greeted Iti.

Iti to her own amazement froze in her seat; the woman was partially covered with burn marks. Iti stood up and reciprocated. "Namaste"

“Your son was roaming on the roads in the morning. I though I should bring him back here”, Iti initiated.

“Oh, thank you but you need not have bothered he is doing this for many days now, thinks he can find his good for nothing father and bring him back but I don’t stop him. He will realise it himself one day and get back to his senses.”

“But he is just 5 and you should stop him. He needs to go to school; also he might get hurt while roaming around”

Shiv’s mother remained silent for a moment and began speaking again.

“I am running this house for 10 years. Shiv’s father used to work in a garment factory. He was paid well to feed the family but his desires of earning big money led to his demise. Now here I am running this house alone and taking care of three kids. You cannot meet them now. I sent them to the village to study just after their father died as it is difficult to raise children in this big city. We don’t have much in the village also but enough to make the ends meet and give them a good life.”

“Will you be sending him also?”

"I thought of sending him too but I need someone here with me. I will live in the city for one more year and then both of us will go back to our village. I have saved about one lakh in the past 5 years and I will use to start a new life."

Iti looked puzzled.

“Oh, you must be thinking how a poor woman like me can save so much money. But I am working as a house maid for so many years. Initially I used to spend everything on the house but one day I stopped. I took some help from my employer and got a bank account. Never told his father about this though. He would have grown suspicious. I stopped taking any diwali or holi gifts from madam and asked her to instead deposit money of the value in my account.”

“You should be an economist. You can run the country”

“I am illiterate. I can’t even read or write, but I know to read money.” She laughed.

 

Iti was speechless. And she thought she would help this poor kid and his family. She rose and asked to leave. She didn’t know what to talk more. Words refused to form a way with her and she willingly gave in.