|
|
The son of an affluent CA,
Bikramaditya Roy Chowdhury whose two gurus were Stalin and
Pramod Dasgupta and who hates the revisionism of Jyoti Basu,
Bappa hero worships Jibananda Das, a poet, and Che Guevara, the
restless Argentinean radical. He can, however, not relate to the
feudal world of his father and finds solace in the pallav
of his literature-loving mother, Nilima. The writer tries to
weave many characters, issues and themes in single, linear
strand.
Whether it is the
using of volatile, easily excitable and, at the same time, very
vulnerable students by wily politicians and behind-the-scenes
backroom boys who are such a contrast to the public face of the
political party or the hollowness of the rebellion of
iconoclasts like Sucheta Dasgupta who are trapped by their own
ideologies and rebellion for the sake of rebellion, Roy builds
up the plot assiduously.
In forging a
symbiotic relationship with Sucheta, the much older
teacher-critic, who has always lived by her own code of conduct,
Bappa finds an escape from the insidiousness of political
crosscurrents and the dissonance of the lifestyle of his upper
class household. Only the asylum is as hollow as the edifice and
lifestyle that he is fleeing from. Bappa is bound only with ties
of blood with his father and the more successful elder brother.
Through constant
references to Rabindra Sangeet, Satyajit Ray, poetry of Sunil
Gangopadhaya, The Statesman and the Ananda Bazaar
Patrika, Ganashakti, Little Magazines or the reconstruction
of the Naxalites and their motivations (especially Charu
Mazumdar and Kanu Sanyal), Roy’s descriptive style captures
the whiff of Bengali culture and life. At times, at the risk of
seeming parochial, the story can be quite cerebrally engaging.
However, if one is looking for creativity of expression and an
emotionally rewarding experience and not cerebral stimulation
alone, it fails to deliver
While describing
the motives of veteran communist worker Bachchu Sen in using
Bappa for political ends, he writes: "He and that boy were
complimentary to each other. Bappa, the public face, and he, the
real boss behind. The boy had everything that was required to
rise in the party. In this party of the underprivileged, he
brought in a whiff of elitist flavour, an important lineage. The
Roy Chowdhurys were a name to reckon with in the refugee belt.
It was not just money, a businessman might get rich overnight.
But the rare family thing—the old aristocracy speaking for the
have-nots, standing for them—would always appeal to popular
imagination. It was natural for the son of a jute-mill worker to
voice the concerns of his class, join the Federation. There was
no dearth of such workers in their party. But such faces would
not arouse curiosity, excite an audience. So what, what's the
big deal, a factory worker's son standing up for his class?… A
handsome boy from an old feudal family, walking side by side
with farm labourers would be an instant hit". And,
ironically, it is his lineage that comes to Bappa's help when
his fellow comrades get him into trouble. The writer is at his
best while describing the intricate workings of the layered
structure of the political party and exposing the yawning gap
between the Marxist party's private scheming and the public face
or the face for public consumption.
Most such
descriptions serve a dual purpose: thy expose the hypocritical
attitude of a cadre-based party's rank as well as carry forward
the narrative by showing the players behind the action as cogs
in the political wheel. Roy spares no one. In a similar ironic
twist, a dig is taken at the intellectuals through the portrayal
of Sucheta Dasgupta who has hijacked the cause of "poor
tribals." They do not even know that she goes to the USA to
focus on their problems. How such activists and intellectuals
are serving their own ends is obvious.
As the reader
meanders through the narrative what brings in a measure of
relief to the stark, prosaic and too longwinded a narrative is
the softness of touch displayed in etching the relationship
between Bappa and Mrittika. The deft strokes that Roy displays
and the minimalism that allows the reader to dream and imagine
proves that less is always more when it comes to drawing a
pen-portrait. To the writer's credit, he does try to do justice
to others in Bappa's group. Suchi, Tuhin, Tarun, Niyoti and even
Keya, who ditches Bappa for a more comfortable life, are etched
out as cameos. They, however, threaten to swamp the main
narrative. In fact, one wishes the reader did not have to keep
track of so many names. This hampers interest and after a while
even becomes tedious.
Despite an ease of
style and a matching of form, content and research, An Escape
into Silence does not touch the reader's heart or draw one
into the narrative. It is too descriptive, has too many details
and is peopled by too many characters. One wonders if the beauty
and simplicity of the relationship between Bappa and Mrittika,
in whom he finds solace and resolution of a conflict-ridden life
(she is so much like his mother), could not have been fleshed
out a wee bit more. Roy is sure-footed when it comes to
reportage but fumbles while dealing with finely-nuanced
emotional subtleties. What occurs to you as you read the
packed-with-words story is that the title is certainly a
misnomer because silence is hardly present either in the imagery
or as a leit motif in An Escape into Silence. At the end,
it is the reader who yearns to escape into silence.
|
AN
Escape into Silence certainly
does not offer an escape for the reader. The novel requires
engagement and involvement to ensure the participation of the
readers who can not afford to suspend either rationality or
lose themselves in the flow of the story.
