An Indian-American Burrito Bowl
I have read this
novel after returning to India from a three month stay in the US, my mind, a
mélange of images involving all who constitute the melting pot called America.
So, a new book called ‘The Americans’, authored by a Chennai-based Indian -- it
sounded intriguing.
Of course, through
the past decade, I have read a few ‘Diaspora Novels’ written by America-based
Indians, about their own and others’ immigrant experience. Generally these have
been breathless affairs about lonely souls languishing in a frozen impersonal
landscape, remembering the warmth and bustle of India, caught between two
cultures.
At some point this
school of writing did get monotonous. And I stopped reading them, preferring
instead the witty self-deprecating views of ‘international’ Americans like Bill
Bryson and Paul Theroux.
In Chitra
Viraraghavan’s debut novel, I hoped for a fresh perspective, different in tone
from the ‘sitar-whine’ of a few other famous works.
Luckily, the
book lives up to the promise of newness, displayed in its artistically designed cover.
Expectedly, and
ironically, the title refers to Americans who are for the most part, Indians. It
is also a rather unlikely novel as far as structure goes. The characters get
introduced chapter by chapter as they
move the story forward; people
and stories intermingle, and at select points, conclude each tale, though not
always with a period. Sometimes it is a question mark.
Be that as it may, the book begins well enough
with, real, relatable, familiar people, – some, rather startling in their
emphatic individuality.
We are first introduced to Tara, a
thirty-something self-employed professional, returning to the US after eight
years. She is there at the invitation of her doctor sister Kamala – who needs
her help. There is an autistic son she is attempting to understand; a seemingly
bratty teenage daughter who needs unwelcome supervision and baby-sitting; a
coping spouse; and Kamala’s own inner battles and outer conflict zones. And
this is where the first non-Indian character appears—an Israeli lady housekeeper
with her own back story.
These people are
introduced by and by, but the character that charmed me, the gentle retired
teacher from Chennai, C L Narayan – luckily, he makes his debut at the beginning,
in the second chapter. Here is somebody one could relate to, understand. His
hesitation and misgivings as he makes
his first trip abroad, his attempt to change his dollar supply ( a hundred
precious dollars) to make a phone call while
at Chicago’s airport, his gratitude at finding helpful fellow Indians – it’s all quite real
without being boring.
Later on quiet Mr.
CLN proves to be surprisingly resilient
and innovative, as he deals with indifference from a self-centered offspring. And
I was actually cheering for him as he stepped out, explored and discovered a
new country and its people.
The cast of
characters is rich and varied, adding depth to a rather unconventional novel
without a single trajectory. But the various lives do touch each other, leaving
a few questions answered, and some with just a hint of promise or even despair
as the case may be.
Some of the more
unusual characters include, among others, a voice from the past – an African
American student who connects with her empathetic Indian professor. Then there
is weird, hyper sensitive Akhil, trusting no one, seeing enemies in shadows.
And you have poor perceptive wise unlucky Shantanu, exploited by Indian
gangsters in a foreign land. The poor chap,
a secret songwriter, is also
ultimately a hero, but one destined to remain in the shadows.
Completing the cast, somewhat, is an unhappy
Indian couple. The wife is full of yearning and technicolour dreams while the
contemptuous husband does his own thing – and yet finally, the man is there for
his unfortunate bitter half.
This is character
driven novel that simultaneously sparkles with dialogue, drama, action, feeling;
there is also some humour, albeit in
small doses. Walking through a very Indian locality in urban USA, Shantanu sees
the gaudy jewellery stores, clothes emporiums and restaurants; notices ‘the
subtle difference in the way cars were parked on the street…He could have been
in Lajpat Nagar market.’
Ultimately the story is essentially that of Tara, the pivot to this Indian merry go round in America.
However, I did feel that the ride ended
rather abruptly, as the characters walk off to their own sunsets, some to a
brighter dawn, some to a questionable future. Perhaps that’s life. There are no
pat solutions.
To me, the value in
the book lies in its richly drawn characters along with many telling lines. To
quote one, the thoughts of the gentle 69 year old retired teacher: ‘Something
perhaps that baffled his generation, something they were unprepared for -- the
foreigners they seemed to have bred.’
Incidentally, during my recent visit, I discovered and enjoyed the burrito bowl. Something foreign, but Indian too, satisfying. Just right!
Incidentally, during my recent visit, I discovered and enjoyed the burrito bowl. Something foreign, but Indian too, satisfying. Just right!
Here is a link to
the book and its publishers:
