Bengaluru-based photographer and film-maker Ryan Lobo’s debut novel is set on a huge premise. Much like Cervantes’s Don Quixote, Lobo’s hero, a 60-year old English-speaking Tamil Brahmin, Mr Iyer, meets with an accident, leading to a head injury which causes him to imagine that he is a mythological hero. The idealistic Mr Iyer believes that he is an incarnation of Bhima, the mighty Pandava of the epic Mahabharata, and is on a journey to make the world a better place. His expedition is, of course, not the lofty tour of the world, but limited to the river banks of the sacred city of Varanasi. Living away from his family, in a home for the dying people, the deluded hero sets out to correct corrupt politicians and exploitative stooges. Absorbed in the visions of his past lives, Mr Iyer fantasises about his battle with the demon Bakasura, who symbolises the evil of this world. Lobo’s Don Quixote is accompanied by his Sancho Panza, an undertaker named Bencho, who goes along with him on a series of adventures.
Lobo’s portrayal of Mr Iyer, as well as other major characters in the book, is worth exploring. His protagonist is not an ordinary crazy man. He is a scholar and among the few belongings that he has in his room, a row of Reader’s Digest stands out. His intellectuality is revealed even in his state of delusion. Much like the heroic warrior Bhima, Lobo’s hero too has traits of violence and child-like innocence. The character of Mr Iyer’s companion, Bencho, also attracts attention. Even though he has his own motive behind supporting Mr Iyer in his expeditions, over a period of time he truly gets attached to the learned man. He is present during Mr Iyer’s visit to his family and takes a strong stand when one of his family members insults the old man. There is much pathos that has gone into the portrayal of the protagonist. Even in his misled vision of being a heroic figure and his fights with the demonic world, Mr Iyer stands out as an ideal man, lonely and forsaken. Much of his expeditions to bring about positive changes in the world are also severely misconstrued. In his make-believe world of asuras and the common people who have to be saved, he thinks that he has saved a child from beating, but once he is out of sight, the punishment continues; believing that a woman stranded in the middle of the road is in distress, he goes forward to save her, who beset by boredom plays along, giving him the impression that he has indeed rescued her.
Lobo’s book, while focusing on Mr Iyer’s exploits, also offers a scathing indictment to various circumstances of the contemporary society. The setting of the home inhabited by old and decrepit people waiting for their deaths offers a sad picture of the treatment of aged people left alone in their last days of life. Mr Iyer is dispatched to this abode and makes his home amidst other patients who are counting their last days. His involvement with his roommate, another old man, pathetic in his illness, and his helping him in his daily ablution, is one of those touching scenes in the book. Lobo’s description of these pitiable characters, specifically the death of the inmates, is really heart-touching. Equally poignant is the scene where Mr Iyer, while trying to protect a young woman, is beaten black and blue by a group of rowdies, whom he visualises as rakshasas. Mr Iyer’s status in his family is summed up in just one scene where he is clearly the odd man out, the unwelcome visitor. His nephew’s tirades at him, forcing him to walk out of the house, creates a lasting impression in the minds of the readers.
Mr Iyer Goes To War makes commendable reading mainly due to its descriptive passages and vivid imagery. The evocative action scenes in the book are nothing short of masala Bollywood-styles movies. A personal favourite is the escapade of Mr Iyer along with the other inmates by bus; the hero climbing on the roof of the bus to deflate the attacks of the pursuers. Of course, there are much more, such as Mr Iyer’s schizophrenic attack in the home as he throws things about, his attempts to escape from the home, the description of the Naga Sadhus and the Varanasi ghats. Much of this may be credited to Ryan Lobo’s eye for detailing, a much-needed requirement for a photographer, which enables him to juxtapose Mr Iyer’s mythical dreamscape with everyday realities of life.
An Indianised version of Cervantes’s chivalric romance, Lobo’s book makes a good reading. A hint towards the end of the novel on future adventures of Mr Iyer and Bencho is a welcome indication of the photographer and film-maker-turned author continuing his writing.