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432 pages, Hardcover
First published January 15, 2019
“Over time, I told myself, I would try to deserve them all. […] I had chosen this place, these people, this life, with its secrets and its violence, its hardness and its beauty, and even thought I was not yet worthy, even thought I would never belong, I would not leave.I would stay and try.”
This country, already ancient when I was born in 1982, has changed every instant I've been alive. Titanic events have ripped it apart year after year, each time rearranging it along slightly different seams and I have been touched by none of it: prime ministers assasinated, peasant-guerillas waging war in emererald jungles, fields cracking under the iron heel of drought, nuclear bombs cratering the wide desert floor, lethal gases blasting from pipes and into tehn thousand lings, mobs crushing against mobs and always coming away bloody. Consider this: even now, at this very moment, there are people huddled in a room somewhere, waiting to die. This is what I have told myself for the last six years, each time I have had the urge to speak. It will make no difference in the end.This novel was really immensely enjoyable: unique voice, reality in splendid color, a mystery, a confrontation of modern values (or lack of it) and different hues of truth. Madhuri Vijay painted life in multi fassets: tradition, culture, class-differences, geography, politics, and family values. It was a gripping, fascinating journey for the reader, but also sad.
"I am aware that I am taking no risks by recounting any of this, that, for people like me, safe and protected, even the greatest risk is, ultimately, an indulgence. I am aware of the likely futility of all that I have told here, and, I am aware, too, of the thousand ways I have tried to excuse myself in the telling of it. All the same, whatever the flaws of this story or confession or whatever it has turned out to be, let it stand."