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Serious Men A sci-fi thriller is certainly not an Indian writer’s cup of tea. And to be fair, Manu Jospeh’s Serious Men isn’t one either. Nevertheless, he has not only placed his novel in the background of scientific research but also woven it in a fashion that it does not merely remain a fictional account of travails of science alone. Come to think of it, the book is as much a social comment as fine a psychological analysis of the underprivileged, as it is about intrigue, professional rivalries and of course love and betrayal. The affair de amour between a young scientist and the formidable Arvind Acharya forms part of the book and lends a considerable degree of delectable tension to the narrative but is certainly not the be all and end all of the storyline.
Rather deviously, he cheats, manipulates, and almost manages to convince the world of his son’s exceptional abilities. He is no villain but a by-product of a social order that for centuries did not give a certain section its due. Now, that subjugated class is driven by ambition, and greed, too, and is ready to exact its pound of flesh. Scruples ... be damned. Concurrently runs the tale of an idealist scientist who has to pay the price of indiscretion, an affair and the wrath of a woman scorned. Like a master storyteller, Manu takes you from one world to another, from one perspective to another, from trivia to the profound, from angst to humour and all this while telling a riveting story with just the right degree of twists and turns. From Ayandesire to buy upmarket brassieres for his wife to his building a special bed for his son in their one-room existence to Achyara’s balloon mission and search for alien microbes, Manu takes the detour rather easily and swiftly with no roadblocks at all. The shift from one way of life to another from one character’s predicament to the simmering discontent of another is smooth, flowing with the narrative. With rare felicity, the writer connects it all. The final climax does
appear a trifle contrived and leaves you with a slight sense of
disappointment. Yet, the novel remains an unstoppable read. Racy and
engaging, witty and funny as it straddles many dimensions that India
is and yet is a cohesive whole. Here’s another emphatic proof that
the Indian writing in English has not only come of age but has its own
flavour and its stories to share.
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The
real drama lies somewhere else in the story of Ayan Mani, with whom
the book begins and ends with who happens to be a personal assistant
in the same scientific research centre. How he manoeuvres his way
using his access to the top man to his advantage, how he tries to
prove that his normal son is a genius and how he uses wily antics to
suit himself reflect on the complexity of the social matrix that India
is. The most remarkable aspect of Manu’s writing is that minus the
scientific jargon, sans overt pontification, he allows you a dual
worldview. One that is inhabited by hallowed scientists totally out of
sync with the real world and the other by a Dalit who lives in a chawl,
nurses deep gnawing resentment against Brahmins and yet aspires to
join the elite way of life.