topics: |  fiction | india | english

While extremely well crafted, The death of Vishnu suffers from the lack of
a central theme that would bind the stories together.  It is ambitious in its
tone and attempts an epic style with a large smorgasboard of characters
flitting in and out of its pages, with a touch of the miraculous and fabulous
thrown in too for good measure, almost Latin in its scope. However the
narrative, while exceptional at the sentence and passage level, fails to
bond and rise to the magic-realism of a Marquez, which it aspires to. 

Has one of the best descriptions of an Indian marriage consummation, in
Sheetal and Vinod's bridal night. 

Excerpts

"Kavita", he wants to say aloud, as she passes by, her eyes in a dream, her
lips in a faraway smile. "Kavita," he wants to say, and reach out his hand
and touch, as she glides by on an invisible plane, the edge of her sari
undulating like a wave behind her.

He says it one day, "Kavita," and doesn't realize he has uttered it
aloud. . . "Kavita memsahib," she says, and looks at him daringly, to see if
he will contradict her. Her hands are on her hips. . . .

"Salaam, memsahib," Vishnu salutes, as Kavita raises her head, tosses her
hair, and begins to ascend the stairs triumphantly.	- p.40-41

---

[ex-Bollywood 3 films actress, currently kitty-party-circle boss]
Mrs. Jaiswal played with the streaks of henna painted in her
beauty-salon-coiffed hair and adjusted the diamond pin in her nose. "They
said that if I'd continued, I'd have been the next Meena Kumari." - p.51

---

[Surdas] slashed his left eye first. He had not meant to scream,
but the pain was so intense that he must have, since they came to
the door. Surdas, let us in, they pleaded. He saw the blood spurt
out, run down his nose, collect at his lips. All this he saw with
his other eye. . . [And then he gouges his other eye]. - p.86

---

On the day Vinod passed his Bachelor of Commerce exam, his father
announced they had found a suitable match for him. Would he have
any objection to marrying Sheetal, the niece of his uncle's wife,
who had been at Paplu's birthday party last week?  . . . Thinking
about it overnight, he could come up with no particular reason to
either reject or endorse the match. The wedding was negotiated
that very week. . . . It was only when he saw his garmens being
tied to Sheetal's that the enormity and irreversibility of the
situation hit him. . . And then he was entering their
wedding-night room and closing the door; the sounds of giggling
were left outside, and his bride was sitting on the petal-strewn
bed. . . he lifted her head slowly, and asked her to open her
eyes. . . . They sat there next to each other, the layers of
clothing and ornaments they were wearing too intimidating to allow
conversation, let alone intimacy. More daunting was the fact that
they had met only twice since the engagement, that too under the
supervision of a caucus of chaperons.  The silence pressed around
them, as oppressive as the heat and the humidity in the
air. . . [Eventually they discuss hindi films, and then about
eating chicken. "I like to eat it, but it's a hundred times more
sinful to cook it than eat it." . . realizing they are hungry,
make their way into the kitchen, picking their way over the bodies
of people sleeping everywhere.]

  They sat in the dark and ate their chicken. . . . He looked at
Sheetal. His wife. She was gnawing at the cartilage in a
wingjoint, red specks of tanoori spice stuck to her lips. In the
dim light, Sheetal looked even younger than her nineteen years
. . . Who was this person? What did she want from life? Sheetal
selected a red pickled onion and bit off a chunk of it.

  Clumsily, Vinod leaned over with his face next to hers and tried
to kiss her.  Sheetal drew back.  "What are you doing? Are you
crazy -- with all these people here?"

  "But they are asleep." Vinod protested.

  "That doesn't matter. They're still here." Sheetal resumed
munching on her onion.

  Vinod looked at the sleeping people. There was Pramod uncle and
his wife, lying next to each other.  How long had they been
together?  He wondered when his uncle had first kissed Manisha
aunty, and whether her mouth had been redolent of cumin and onion
when he had done so.  He looked again at Sheetal.  She had
finished her chicken.  Her tongue was wiping her lips clean,
leaving behind a thin glisten of saliva that outlined her mouth in
the silvery light.  He had never kissed a girl before.  He was
determined to do so tonight, in this kitchen, on this table.
  Vinod eased the platter out of the way and moved closer to
Sheetal.  He could feel her stiffen, could almost hear her heart
start beating faster.  He slowly put his arm around her neck, then
tensed his muscles, ready to resits in case she tried to escape.
She sat there, rooted to the wood, looking straight ahead.
Quickly, he pressed his mouth over hers.  He sensed the back of
her neck go slack.  Her saliva felt wet and sticky and strangely
exciting on his lips.  He held them there for a moment, inhsling
the spicy meatiness of her mouth.  Then, not sure how to procee,
he released her mouth and drw his head back.

  She looked away from his eyes.  Her hand went up to wipe her
lips, but she stopped and self-consciously brought it down.
She sat on the table next to the platter and the onions, the bone
of a chicken wing still in her hand.

  They went back to their bedroom.  Nervously, SHeetal unwound her sari, and
quickly got into bed.  She shivered, even though the room was unbearably
warm, and pulled the sheet up to her blouse.  Vinod took off his shirt but
not his pants, and got in next to her.

  They stared at the wedding decorations festooned over the bed.
The sound of the mosquitoes diving among the streamers mingled
with the snores that trickled in from under the door.  A balloon
rested listlessly against the ceiling, its thread dangling all the
way to the floor.  Down the street, a dog barked, and further away
somewhere, they heard a car start up.

  Vinod could feel Sheetal's body breathing next to him in the
dark.  He thought of her bosom beneath its blouse, the red cloth
rising and falling with each breath.  In the sixth standard, a
friend had shown him his first photo of a naked woman.  He tried
to picture that image under Sheetal's blouse, tried to imagine the
contour of each breast, the fleshiness of each nipple.  He saw
himself kissing her neck, bringing his mouth down and wetting the
material of her blouse and when the nipple was clearly outlined,
taking it in his mouth through the cloth.

  "Are you asleep?" he whispered to Sheetal.

  "No," she replied. "I was thinking."

  "About what?" Vinod's voice was hoarse.

  "I was thinking," Sheetal said, turning around to face him, her
expression troubled. "I was thinking perhaps it wouldn't be such a
big sin to once in a while cook chicken?" - p.185-193

---

The actual night only came a week later.  By then, Vinod had
reconciled himself to the fact that his wife clacked her teeth in her
sleep. When he mentioned this to her, she complained that he
snored each night, and that that was much worse than her clacking,
which was due to a misalignment in her mouth, and which only
occurred on some nights, and which wasn't as loud or as hard to
adjust to as snoring, anyway.

The monsoons had been delayed again that year, and the heat had
been building up night after night in their room. Vinod took off
his shirt, hesitated, then took off his pants as well. "It's so
hot," he explained apologetically, as he got into bed. "Too hot
for my pajama suit." Sheetal, who was wearing a nightie, didn't
say anything. "Why don't you take off your nightie as well," Vinod
suggested.

  "What, and be naked?"

  "You'll be much cooler."

  Sheetal was quiet for a moment. "Okay, but don't look," she whispered.

  Vinod felt her get out of bed. She returned in a moment, and drew the sheet
up to her neck.

  "What's the point if you're going to cover yourself with a
sheet? You'll sweat even more than in a nightie."

  "I have to put something on.  I'm completely naked otherwise.
You have your underclothes on."

  "Okay. I'll take them off."

  Vinod took off his undershirt as Sheetal watched.  He rubbed the
cotton cloth over the hair on his chest to soak up the sweat, then
threw it into a corner of the room.

  "You're still not naked. What about those?" Sheetal pointed her
chin at his briefs.

  "Look the other way, and I'll do it."

  "See you're embarrassed, too."

  "It's not the same. It's different for men."

  "You expect me to take off my sheet, yet you won't take off your
underwear."

  "Oh, yes? Well, here." With one quick sweep, Vinod tried to pull
his briefs off, and got them all the way to his feet, where they
became entangled in his toes.

  A cry escaped Sheetal's mouth, and she covered her eyes with her
hands. She looked through her fingers and began to laugh as she saw Vinod
try to cover himself by crossing one leg over the other.

"What do you have there?" Sheetal said, pointing at his
nakedness and laughing.

  Vinod uncovered himself to show her. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

  Sheetal screamed as he placed her hand on his cock and closed
his thighs over it.

  He held it there. "It feels so good." he said, and Sheetal's
face turned a dark crimson.

  Still holding her hand in his crotch, so that she couldn't move
away, Vinod sidled next to Sheetal. He slipped his leg under the
sheet and rubbed it against hers, feeling the coarseness of his
hairs against her smooth skin.  Hooking his foot around hers, he
slid closer, until his chest was touching hers. Carefully, he
peeled the sheet off her body, as if uncovering a sleeping child.

  Sheetal pressed her arms over her breasts. She crossed her legs
just as he had done a minute ago, keeping her gauze focused on the
pillow next to her head. She bore his kisses silently, in her
hair, at her brow, on her lips.  As his mouth left hers, she
turned to face him.  Visible beyond the reticence, Vinod was
surprised to see, was the unmistakable glint of curiosity.

  He couldn't rememer the instructions his brother had given him. Something
about kissing, something about caressing, something about pressing their
bodies together until they fit correctly. He kissed Sheetal's cheeks, her
nose, her lips, but that didn't seem enough. He tried rubbing himself
against her body, but stopped, because it was bringing him too close to the
edge. He suddenly became terrified that he would ejaculate all over her
body.  He imagined his white semen squirting uncontrolled over her abdomen,
like some pubescent emission, pooling in her navel, running down her
thighs.

  Apparently, Sheetal had received some advice as well, because she took
him in her hand and guided him into her body. He felt the warm compactness
of her, and smelled her odor, like freshly cut yams, that he would forever
associate with sex. He came almost immediately, his body twitching, eyes
rolling back in his head, Sheetal holding him tight in her arms, so tight
he could hardly breathe.  He pulled out and managed to focus on her, and
was embarrassed at the confusion flushing her face.

  "Next time will be better," he said, unable to bring himself to watch if
the confusion was giving way to uderstanding, to disappointment.

  "It's okay," Sheetal said, as she wiped herself clean.  She got
out of bed and put on her nightie.

  "Good night," she said, as she got into bed and turned to face
the window.

  "Good night," he replied, lookingat the small of her back, unable to
reach out to comfort her. As the minutes ticked away, he stared at the
motionless contours of her body and waited for a dog, a car, a mosquito,
anything, to break the silence that hung over the room.  - p.197-200

. . .

Few days passed without his mother grinding in a subtle pinch of
criticism about Sheetal to flavor the evening meal.

  They were finishing breakfast one morning when Vinod noticed the
untouched omelette on his mother's plate. He asked if something
was wrong.

  "She's put onion in it," his mother said sadly, in a whisper
loud enough for Sheetal to hear. "She knows I'm not allowed onion
on Wednesday because of my fast."

  "Why didn't she remind me?" Sheetal asked from near the sink,
without turning around. "What kind of fast is this, anyway, that
one can eat meat and egg but no onion?"

  "See the way she talks to me? This is how I'm treated day after
day while you're away." His mother's eyes had misted, and a tear
was threatening to roll down one cheek.

  "Tell her not to pretend so much. It's all for your
benefit. We've all seen what her tongue is like -- it could cut
holes through cloth."

  "Sheetal!" Vinod exclaimed, getting up from his chair, as his
mother dissolved into sobs.

  "I'm tired of trying to satisfy her. She's never happy with
anything I do.  Tell me why she can't make her own eggs, if she
doesn't like the ones I cook for her."

  His mothers sobs rose to a wail, and Vinod found himself
striding to where Sheetal stood. He felt a sting in the fingers of
his right hand, saw a flash of disbelief light up his wife's
eyes. Then, head lowered, hand pressed agains her reddening cheek,
Sheetal left the room. Behind him, his mother blew her nose into a
handkerchief.

  Afterwards, Vinod went to work as usual. He sat at his desk the
whole morning, his head burning as if ravaged by some
disease. . . - p.202-203

[Seven days later, Sheetal comes back with her father, who
discusses the cricket news over samosas. . . after a few months,
they move into their own flat.]

--

No, she was going to become a film star.  A heroine, a glamour queen.
No one man could hope to possess her, only long after her on screen.
   - p. 286 [Kavita after returning from her elopement with Salim]

--- [REAL LIFE]

http://www.mid-day.com/news/city/2002/november/35618.htm

Lovesick girl takes poison in auto,
Rajiv Sharma
November 6,2002

A 17-year-old girl committed suicide in an autorickshaw at Juhu on Monday
while on her way home with an uncle, a constable and a boy she was friendly
with.

She was returning home after the uncle and constable tried convincing her
to focus on her studies and give secondary importance to a relationship
with a boy her family disapproved of.

Oshiwara police said Om Prakash Mishra, father of Jyoti Mishra, a Std X
student, lodged a complaint on Monday morning, saying his daughter had been
missing from their home at Munshi compound, Oshiwara, Jogeshwari (West).

The father told police that the girl was having an affair
with a boy from the neighbourhood, Salim Mohammed.

Mohammed agreed to accompany Jyoti's uncle Rajesh Tiwari and a police
constable to the place. On reaching the spot, they found Jyoti waiting.

S Dhokle, of the Juhu Police Station said that Tiwari and the constable
then went up to her and tried convincing her to return home.

The girl heard them quietly, and later sat in an autorickshaw with the
others to return home, Dhokle added.

The constable sat next to the driver, and the girl sat behind with her
uncle and Mohammed. As the rickshaw was heading towards Oshiwara, Jyoti
suddenly pulled out a packet containing white powder and swallowed the
powder, police said.

Realising what had happened, the rickshaw was immediately diverted toward
Cooper Hospital, Juhu.  However, Jyoti was declared dead before admission,
and her body sent for an autopsy.