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Maganbhai’s Glue has
pathos running through the entire narrative while telling the
story of a man all of whose valiant attempts to succeed in life
— from exporting khakras to manufacturing
fire-crackers, to trying to make a magical glue — result in
disaster. Vadki has a housewife going cuckoo in search of
a missing katori (dish).
Phoren Soap has
the rich hero going bananas, and walking on all fours, in order
to suppress a desire for a foreign soap that he has obtained
with loving care but has not been able to use because of certain
circumstances. Manjula Manilal has God Vishnu descend on
earth in order to transport Manilal, the incorrigible
petticoat-obsessed maniac to heaven, instead of an ardent
devotee who is left behind to fend for himself on the streets of
Ahmedabad. The following is Manilal’s response to Savita’s
enquiry about his love for her shortly before he embarks on his
journey:
"Clean one
kilo of love in the winnowing tray and empty it in a vessel.
Take care to see that there are no pebbles. Add two spoons of
woman’s enchanting form. Hang it on a hook for three days.
When it ferments add four spoons of happiness, three spoons of
devotion, one spoon of elaichi and two tablespoons of
attraction. Have this mixture with honey three times a day, and
savour the joy of heaven while living on earth."
Interesting concoction, especially for the lovelorn.
Pages from a Diary
tells with devastating effect the pathetic story of a successful
trickster. All the stories depict characters rooted in a
middle-class Gujarati milieu. The language is rough. There is no
poetic quality to it, should one be looking for any. Actually,
some of the funnily narrated encounters have been culled from
personal experiences. Rather bizarre, but not implausible.
Bringing the
sublime to the ridiculous, or vice-versa is a rare quality. And
Khakhar has it. Luckily, since they have been rendered well,
much of the latent fun comes across in most translations. Katha’s
flawlessly elegant production is an added attraction.
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THESE
are the works of a master craftsman, revelling in an intensity that’s
almost extraordinary. The stories are simple and the narrative is
underlined with an uncanny understanding of human situations. There
is no seemingly conscious technique or style at work. At times these
renderings seem reflections of an individual who has been observing
men and women around him — observing their eccentricities as also
the humdrum behaviour patterns that govern their ordinary existence.
And as if painting another surrealistic canvas, Bhupen Khakhar
infuses in his characters an unusual cadence, an element that makes
these stories immensely readable, and believable.
