Period fiction

Days of gold and sepia
Yasmeen Premji
Harper Collins
2012, pp 425
399

Yasmeen Premji’s epic saga of a corporate baron across two momentous centuries makes for some interesting period literature. The almost unbelievable rise and rise of Lalljee Lakha, set mostly in Bombay, between the Sepoy Mutiny and the Indian Independence, is lucidly told. However, though the narration is rich in detail, it lacks in nuance.

Born to a poor goatherd in Kutch, Lalljee’s earliest impressions are the death of his mother and the break up of his family. He is brought up as a supplicant in his uncle’s home, but loses his first and only love due to social inequalities.

The rest of the book narrates his emigration to Bombay and an amazing success story that includes struggling as a labourer, a deck hand in a trading ship, a trader in Zanzibar, a merchant and finally a mighty seth and Bombay’s cotton king. Finally, he falls on some hard times in the 1930s, but dies a rich man.

The vibrant array of characters — real and imagined — makes for a compelling backdrop. They include merchant princes and decadent maharajas, courtesans and soothsayers, pirates, traditional families, and burra sahibs. There are references to the monumental players of the period —  M K Gandhi, Lokmanya Tilak, Jawaharlal Nehru, Bhagat Singh, Rabindranath Tagore and countless other luminaries and celebrities, though most of them are mere names and events in the tale that unfolds, without actually moving centre-stage or interacting with the plot. The references to the historical events and incidents are attention-grabbing, but seem self-conscious and tacked on at times. The author’s eye is clearly on piquing the reader’s interest — such as the reference to the first rail journey in 1853, or an elaborate description of Malabar Hill’s history. They do not seem relevant or woven into the plot, and create some looseness of narration.

The novel is sometimes picaresque and sometimes Victorian in its elements of serialised, rambling storyline and myriad characters. The description, background and insights into the events capture the imagination, while the simple, straightforward style carries the reader easily through the century.

But it lacks the dramatic conflict, crescendo and resolution of classical works. Hence, the plot and conflict elements are not complex, while the amazing success story seems a bit unbelievable. What were the freedom fighters fighting about, one wonders. Here is not only the tale of one man who lives out the real meaning of ‘virtue and hard work rewarded’, but of an entire cast of people who indicate that axiom over and again. Hence, you get the feeling that you are reading a successful fable, almost an American-dream kind of life, instead of the grinding poverty, oppression and failure you would expect of the last two centuries. Even if the author has based her protagonist on a real figure from history, who did enjoy such a success, the story needs to be fictionalised with the necessary bite that would enrich the plot.

Moreover, the characters seem almost unidimensional in their optimism and positivity. There is a goodness and generosity about Lalljee that is supposed to be childlike, but appears most mature in retrospect. For instance, he never upbraids his wife for not producing a son, and his reflections after her confessions of having transgressed are startlingly contemporary. It seems to reflect the modern world view of the author rather than of the character.

Leave alone the protagonist, the entire cast seems to have been painted by the same naïve, benevolent brush, except for one or two villains, who are quickly dismissed in the plotline. Many of the characters are just colourful props in a rich tapestry. For instance, Kamala Bai and her daughter Sitara, the courtesans, add visual and historical detail, without contributing much to the storyline.

What elevates the book above a documentary, are the hundreds of micro stories, the interesting narration and the diversity of cast and scenery. In spite of yourself, you find yourself warming to the sweet tale that remains gold and sepia, without transmuting into other colours of real life.