Story of a fake Sherlock Holmes
Review by Kuldip Dhiman
Picture Imperfect and Other Mysteries by Byomkesh Bakshi by Saradindu Bandyopadhyay and translated from Bengali by Sreejata Guha Penguin, New Delhi. Pages 249. Rs 200.

Love in the world of music
Review by Shelley Walia
An Equal Music by Vikram Seth. Viking, New Delhi. Pages 383.

Think as a global man
Review by Ramandeep S. Johal
God in Science: Symbiosis of Modern Science and the World’s Religions by Sampooran Singh, Manjit Singh, Kanwaljit Kaur and Paramjit Singh. Vishvas Publications, Chandigarh. Pages xxxii+178. Rs. 250.

Integrated views of Gurus

The Doctrine and Dynamics of Sikhism by Jasbir Singh Ahluwalia. Publication Bureau, Punjabi University, Patiala. Pages 147. Rs 180.

Review by Gurdarshan Singh Dhillon

THE book under review is part of a series being published by Punjabi University, Patiala, in connection with the tercentenary of the Khalsa. The 15 essays in the book seek to cover a variety of subjects relating to the doctrine and dynamics of Sikhism. The author discusses the challenges confronted by the Sikh community at all levels — social, political as well as ideological. He holds the view that on the eve of the 21st century there are only two choices before mankind — namely, either the perpetuation of the present “value neutral” consumerist culture or a new value-oriented civilisation based on the notion of the spirit.

His contention is that “Sikhism being essentially a religion of spirit” can play an important role in evolving the ideology of the new world civilisation.

Ahluwalia laments that the existential concerns of the Sikhs have taken precedence over the universal concerns of Sikhism. There is no doubt that humanism, liberalism, pluralism and universalism are the fundamental values of Sikhism and the consummation of Guru Nanak’s vision would eventually be a global state based on equality, fraternity, justice and peaceful co-existence.

For this purpose, however, the Sikhs have to keep their ideological base intact. They cannot allow it to be eroded. Any dilution, distortion or erosion of the Sikh identity is bound to have a disastrous effect on the Sikh psyche. In the current socio-political milieu, the Sikh traditions, values, culture and identity are seriously threatened.

In order to attain their true and natural stature according to their genius, the Sikhs have to salvage their identity. Their socio-political existence has to be safeguarded. It is imperative to simultaneously pursue both the existential and universal concerns of Sikhism. One cannot be pursued at the cost of the other.

A glance at Sikh history reveals that the Sikhs have fought and laid down their lives for universal causes. They have suffered martyrdom and made sacrifices to uphold certain fundamental and abiding values of human life like love, harmony and peace.

It is noteworthy that Sikhs never fought religious wars. They fought against tyranny, injustice and fanaticism. But the intense faith kindled in them by the Gurus never wavered even in the face of the worst kind of persecution even when a price was fixed on the head of every Sikh. None of them renounced his faith to save his life. It was only through the preservation of their identity and ideology that the Sikhs pursued universal goals.

Ahluwalia has not been able to articulate a clear perspective on the much-debated Miri-Piri concept in Sikhism. He entangles himself in a web of self-contradiction when, on the one hand, he concedes that Sikhism is a whole-life religious system and, on the other hand, he states that the two domains of religion and politics must be kept distinct from each other.

In support of his contention he twice quotes a verse from Bachittar Natak regarding the house of Baba (Nanak) and the house of Babur (worldly ruler) both of which, according to him, have been described as the creation of God by the tenth Guru. Here it is pertinent to mention that the controversy regarding the authorship of the Bachittar Natak has not been resolved so far and there have been varied interpretations of this verse by different scholars. The message of the verse is too profound to admit of any simplistic interpretation.

The tenth prophet made no departure from the spiritual thesis laid down by Guru Nanak. Sikhism is not a religion in the limited sense of the word. It is a complete way of life and aims at structuring the fabric of human life and culture in the light of values and principles revealed by God, for its problems are approached in the light of moral values and social ideals that Sikhism expounds.

It is the faith of the Sikh Gurus that religion and all aspects of social life, including economic and political, cannot be separated. It was their conviction that religion-oriented politics was essential to achieve the ethical ideals of human equality, freedom and justice, In fact, it is the lesson of Sikh history that separation of religion and politics will not only mean their enervation and atrophy but also lead to materialism, individualism and chaos in social life.

The history of the Sikh struggle from the times of the Gurus todate, gives us a clear lesson that the combination of both aspects of life is not only most fruitful but also essential.

Ahluwalia fails to note that Harmandar Sahib and Akal Takht built adjacent to each other form part of an integrated complex which represents an integrated ideology of the Sikh Gurus. The two vindicate the unique idea of spiritual and empirical unity, of the inalienable Miri-Piri ideal handed down to the Sikhs by the Gurus. This ideal has nurtured and sustained them through the centuries.

Unfortunately the unique doctrinal position of Akal Takht has not been appreciated due to lack of a clear perception of the Sikh doctrine. The author has failed to substantiate his view that “the domain and role of Sri Akal Takht relates to the universalistic temporal concerns of Sikhism and Sikh society” and should take no cognisance of political problems of the Sikhs.

Akal Takht stands as a living monument of the spiritual yearnings and the socio-political objectives that have shaped the dynamic Sikh people and animated them during the past few centuries. As noted by J.D. Cunningham, it has been the venue of “Sarbat Khalsa” or a theo-political assembly of the whole Sikh people to seek “wisdom and unanimity of counsel” from the Guru and the holy book. The decisions arrived at these meetings, through consensus in the presence of the Guru Granth Sahib, have been known as “Gurmattas”.

The institutions of “Sarbat Khalsa” and the concept of “Gurmatta”, which have an ethical base and are democratic in character, have exercised a very potent unifying influence on the Sikhs. Hukamnamas have also been issued by Akal Takht from time to time to settle religious and political disputes.

These institutions have provided sustenance and direction to the Sikhs for the last 500 years. They cannot afford to lose their moorings. It is important for them to remain rooted to their institutional value system which has an eternal relevance. Any deviation or digression from such a dynamic value system would be a suicidal step.

The author repeatedly stresses the need for corporate integration of the Sikh community into the national mainstream or the national body politic. He takes no cognisance of the apprehensions among the Sikhs that in the name of integration their identity, like that of the Buddhists or the Jains, might get submerged in Hinduism. The Sikhs need a free and congenial environment for the flowering of their genius.

India must devise a collectivism which neither degrades nor suppresses the minorities. Today the minorities are clamouring for socio-political justice.

Only a satisfied and self-confident Sikh community can give effect to the core assertion of the Sikh religion; “May God bless all mankind” (Sarbat da bhala). Confidence in their destiny would enable them to wholeheartedly direct their energies to ushering in a new era of a grand collectivism at the global level, in which all would get equal opportunities for free and unfettered growth of their personality.

Sikhism is a religion of deed and not a “religion of spirit”, as the author says. It is not merely a set of abstract ideas concerning God and the mystery of life and death. Mere mystical quest is not the Sikh ideal. One of the cardinal principles of Sikh faith is kirt karo (work with one’s own hands). The keynote of Sikhism is its stress on social responsibility. The Gurus brought true religion to bear upon the day-to-day problems of life.

The learned author has drawn a line between the Sikh religion and Sikh philosophy. The two cannot be segregated and dealt with separately. According to the Sikh way of thinking, there is no dichotomy between the two. Life is an integrated whole and its rules are laid down by the Guru who unites and synthesises the different segments.

Sikhism is not concerned with divinity in abstraction from human reality. Guru Nanak’s emphasis on deeds is epitomised in his hymn. “Truth is higher than everything, but higher still is truthful living.” Sikh metaphysics has a direct bearing on the Sikh commitment to social justice.

A major part of the book is devoted to a study Sikh metaphysics. Metaphysical doctrine, no doubt, forms the basis of Sikh social thought but it was also coloured by the sensitivity of the Sikh Gurus to the contemporaneous social situation.

The author discusses the current social reality in relation to the Sikhs but shuns talking about the current Punjab crisis, the painful events of 1984 and the unjust and discriminatory policies of the Central Government towards Punjab and the Sikhs. Does he expect the Sikhs to adopt a transcendental approach where they can stay aloof from contemporaneous reality?

The author has failed to note that right and wrong are absolute and not relative concepts in Sikh thought and tradition. In the sublime vision of the Gurus, there is no room for ethical dualities, polarities or moral relativism. The author’s contention that the Gurus’ conception of ideal society or ideal state can be concretised by each age in terms of its own requirements is fallacious. The author has not been able to evaluate the ideological and practical implications of Sikhism in their true perspective.

In spite of his verbal felicity, he has tended to confuse and not clarify the issues. Referring to the Rajiv-Longowal accord, he calls it historic. He has failed to explain as to what made it historic. He discusses the proposed draft of the All India Sikh Gurdwara legislation prepared by himself. The draft, being full of anomalies and ambiguities, could not be passed into an act.

The book has omitted a host of vital issues regarding the predicament of the Sikhs in free India. However, the author’ suggestion to evolve an “enlightened Sikh view-point” on some basic socio-religious issues cannot be brushed aside.

King of bedroom and much, much else

The Magnificent Mahraja — The Life and Times of Bhupindar Singh of Patiala by K. Natwar Singh. Harper Collins, New Delhi. Pages 317. Rs 295.

Review by Roopinder Singh

THERE were maharajas and there was Maharaja Bhupindar Singh, “…the living incarnation of those omnipotent sovereigns of the past whose ungovernable personalities look large across the eyes…. None could embody more superbly the Eastern prince of fairly tales, the hero of our childish dreams; none more aptly illustrates the magnificence and despotic power of the last absolute monarch. There is much of the ideal tyrant in his physical appearance….”

There is no doubt about it; this Maharaja made an impact. He has been mostly portrayed as a person with a voracious appetite for the good things of life. In this what is missed is his contribution to India and its people.

K. Natwar Singh has married the granddaughter of Maharaja Bhupindar Singh. He was given access to all secret files and documents of the Maharaja by Capt. Amarinder Singh of Patiala. The author also acknowledges the help extended by many members of the erstwhile royal house of Patiala.

The book is no hagiography. Far from being an authorised narrative, it is a factual though stylised biography of the man and the Maharaja. It starts with a brief account of the Patiala dynasty from the time of Baba Ala Singh through Maharaja Rajinder Singh, which provides the historical backdrop to the rise of the prince, who was nine years old when his father died. Natwar Singh deftly traces the developments in the life of the plump boy, plush with jewels, as Bhupindar Singh’s portrait of his 1900 investure shows.

By that time certain disturbing elements were already in evidence. After his marriage the Maharaja became more than familiar with his wife’s ladies-in-waiting and “from now till almost the last few weeks of his life, the attraction to women was to remain very high on his life’s agenda. Every temptation was available to him and he resisted none.”

At the same time, he was also showing his political skills in dealing with the British while negotiating for full power. He made an impact where it mattered during the Delhi Durbar of 1911 .

World War I provided an opportunity for the young Maharaja to distinguish himself in the eyes of the British establishment. He was among the few princes selected by the Viceroy to accompany the Indian expeditionary force with the rank of Hon Lieut-Colonel in the British Army. He was with the Patiala contingent, but on his way to France he fell ill and had to return home. He then devoted his energies to recruiting soldiers and in ensuring that he got a seat in the Imperial War Council in London.

He was successful in both the endeavours, and the Patiala troops fought with courage in Flanders, Gallipoli, Italy and the Middle East. The 1st Patiala won 42 honours and awards, including a Military Cross. They lost 39 officers and men. This war also contributed to the political awakening in India, with which the princes had little sympathy.

Not a single Indian ruler condemned the Jallianwala Bagh massacre; they were busy hosting their imperial masters and indulging in internecine skirmishes about real or imagined social slights (nomination to important committees, pursuit of medals and raising of gun salutes, orders of precedence, etc.). Of course wining and dining the British greats was imperative, even to the extent of vacating the palace to host them and providing them with the most lavish entertainment.

Bhupindar Singh played the Sikh card deftly. Despite his personal habits which were an anathema to the religious teachings of the religion he professed and practised (he recited path every day), and his often antagonistic relations with the Akalis, he was a Sikh leader who distributed largesse, participated in community affairs, including the 1923 kar sewa at the Golden Temple and managed to intervene on behalf of the community, specially during the Sisganj firing affair. He was also the Chancellor of the Chamber of Princes, where he played an important role in shaping Indian polity.

Natwar Singh also deals with “The Indictment of Patiala”, a statement of 12 charges against Bhupindar Singh which caused him much infamy and grief. He barely managed to survive this crisis and that too at quite a cost.

For a time the names of Patiala and cricket were synonymous. The first Prince to patronise the game in India was Maharaja Rajinder Singh, whose son carried on the legacy. Bhupindar Singh played the game, and also patronised such greats as the legendary Ranji and Lala Amarnath. The author credits him with putting Patiala on the cricket map of the world. He also presented the magnificent cup for the Ranji Trophy.

For someone who was known as perhaps the most conspicuous consumer of his times, it is not at all surprising that Bhupindar Singh’s treasury was often in dire straits. He frequently courted a financial disaster to an extent that the Viceroys were concerned with his affairs. His foreign trips were always quite a drain on the exchequer, though he did make an impact wherever he went.

All said and done, the Maharaja was a larger-than-life figure, who had an impact quite disproportionate to the size of the state he ruled. His name has long been associated with enormous appetites, excesses and follies. It is high time that the other, a more multi-faceted person emerged from the caricature which we associate with descriptions in books like “The Maharajas” and “Freedom at Midnight”. Natwar Singh has brought out the various facets of the man and the Maharaja.

After reading the book one would tend to agree with the author: “If Maharaja Bhupindar Singh has been a wholetime philanderer and a trivialiser, he would be of no interest whatsoever to a biographer. His attraction lies in his multidimensional personality — prince, patriot, philanthropist: polygamist, sportsman, soldier, statesman: lover of music, manuscripts, medals, High Mason and tantrik, adoring father, indifferent husband, loyal friend, generous patron, intrepid enemy, father of Indian cricket, and crafty politician — all at the same time.”

Picture Imperfect and Other Mysteries by Byomkesh Bakshi by Saradindu Bandyopadhyay and translated from Bengali by Sreejata Guha Penguin, New Delhi. Pages 249. Rs 200.

Review by Kuldip Dhiman

CAN you imagine a murderer on a fast moving bicycle in Calcutta’s busy traffic, firing a gramophone pin from his cycle’s bell with such a force and accuracy that it pierces the chosen target’s heart resulting in instant death? Then you have a scientist who has invented a chemical that could change the face of modern warfare. The chemical kills without leaving any trace.

It is not over yet: you have drugs mixed in red ink, and the addict just sucks the pen nonchalantly in the presence of his family members who are too dumb to put two and two together. Another character murders a victim merely by reading the medical classic, “Gray’s Anatomy,” and then for the convenience of our brilliant detective, he underlines in red the method supposedly described in the book.

These are the brilliant methods of murdering people mentioned in “Picture Imperfect”, a collection of seven detective stories written originally in Bengali by Saradindu Bandyopadhyay, one of the few Indian writers to devote his talents to this extremely popular genre. Sadly, detective fiction never really took off in India. Although Bandyopadhyay became quite popular in Bengal for his detective stories, the fact is that they are not detective stories in the true sense of the term.

To be called a detective mystery, the story has to meet certain well-established conventions, just as there are certain conventions of writing humour or love stories or science fiction. Ever since Edgar Allan Poe wrote what is claimed to be the first detective mystery “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” in 1841, there have evolved over a dozen unwritten rules that no serious crime writer can dare to break and if he does, he must have a very good reason for doing so.

In a roman policier or detective story, there is an element of contest between the author and the reader to identify the criminal. To be fair, the author must provide the reader an equal opportunity with the detective for solving the mystery. All clues must be plainly stated and described. No wilful tricks or deceptions may be placed on the reader other than those played legitimately by the criminal on the detective himself.

The detective himself should never turn out to be the culprit. The culprit must be determined by logical deductions — not by accident or coincidence. The problem of the crime must be solved by strictly natural and logical means. Again, the culprit must be one of the main characters, not a butler or a stranger who makes just one appearance in the story. The method of murder, and the means of detecting it, must be rational and scientific. Pseudo-science and purely imaginative and speculative devices are not acceptable.

The author can plant as many red herrings as he chooses to divert the reader’s attention, but the solution must be apparent all the time, provided the reader is smart enough to see it. In this genre, the reader will be extremely pleased if he is outwitted by the author, and very disappointed if not.

All supernatural preternatural agencies are ruled out. Now, without being familiar with the current advancement in the art of detective story and the advancement in forensic technique and police procedure, our writers write the kind of amateurish stuff that was acceptable until about 120 years ago. But modern readers are not so forgiving.

Bandyopadhyay is guilty on almost every count for in these stories, we have all the forbidden and unacceptable elements: secret societies, unheard of drugs and chemicals, impossible and impractical scientific contraptions, illogical and superhuman methods of murdering people. The writer frustrates the reader at every step by hiding clues, withholding vital information and, what is worse, coming up with illogical and unsatisfactory explanations in the end. There is nothing wrong in breaking the accepted rules and conventions, but Bandyopadhyay breaks them out of sheer ignorance rather than design.

As you read these stories, you cannot help noticing the long shadow of the famous Sherlock Holmes looming over Byomkesh Bakshi. Victorian London becomes the Calcutta of the 1930s; the smart elegant and gentlemanly Cherwood pipe-smoking Sherlock Holmes becomes the dhoti-clad cheroot-smoking Byomkesh Bakshi who calls himself — A Seeker of Truth, not a detective. Bandyopadhyay does get original at times: Sherlok Holmes was a bachelor and Dr Watson was twice-married, and was a keen admirer of women, be it Miss Irene Adler or Miss Violet Smith. Bandyopadhyay reverses the equation by making Byomkesh a married man, and Ajit, his Dr. Watson, a bachelor.

Coming to the stories themselves, although the chronicler, Ajit, often goes on reminding us about the exceptional intelligence and extraordinary personality of our detective, it is nowhere evidenced in any of the stories. Even other characters behave in a very strange way. For instance, in the story “Where There’s a Will”, the murderer uses chloroform to kill his victim, and then conveniently leaves the needle in the victim’s body to serve as a clue to our detective. Byomkesh deduces that the murder was committed at midnight. When Ajit asks how he could be so sure, Byomkesh replies: “That is just a guess.” So much for the art of deduction. And the culprit is so stupid that he hides the murder weapon in his own room, and when he makes a fake will he is so careless that he forgets that he ought to have faked the signatures of the witnesses as well.

In “The Gramophone Pin Mystery”, overawed by the Byomkesh’s deductive powers, Ajit says: “I failed to understand how Byomkesh had managed to connect a [sic] middle-aged stranger to the infamous gramophone mystery by taking just one look at him I had witnessed several instances of Byomkesh’s remarkable powers, but this seemed to be in the realm of the magic.”

In reply Byomkesh tells the stranger: “Mere assumption. First, you are middle-aged; second, you are well off; third, you have been having a problem recently, and finally, you have come to me for assistance,” he, says patronisingly, without elaborating further.

In “Picture Imperfect” Byomkesh predicts that one of the characters, a doctor, is planning a trip to Calcutta. When asked to give reasons for his hypothesis Byomkesh replies: “But when a doctor says he doesn’t wish to take on a case of lengthy duration and it should be taken by another doctor, it may be safely deduced that he is planning a trip.”

Excellent, but how did he guess it would be to Calcutta?

“That was from his [the doctor’s] general air of gaiety.”

Thank you very much. Unfortunately, there is no room for mere assumptions, plain guesswork, and conjecture in serious detective fiction.

While writing detective mysteries, it is not enough to just come up with a brilliant puzzle. In fact, the test of a good mystery is that it is read again and again by the reader even after knowing the solution to the crime. It is the art of storytelling and characterisation which keeps the reader glued to the pages, not puzzles. Unfortunately, none of the characters in this book makes any impression on the reader’s mind. And whatever worth the stories might have in the original, it is totally lost in the inept translation. But at least the book does live up to its title. With due respect to the late author, the book is, as the translator calls it “Picture Imperfect.”

An Equal Music by Vikram Seth. Viking, New Delhi. Pages 383.

Review by Shelley Walia

THE locale this time is not India, California, Tibet or China. Vikram Seth, after his novel in verse, “The Golden Gate”, and two poetry collections, “The Humble Administrator’s Garden” and “All You Who Sleep Tonight”, a travelogue, “From Heaven Lake”, and a libretto, “Arion and the Dolphin”, moves to Venice, Vienna, and London in “An Equal Music”.

Though the poem dedicated to Phillip Honore which forms the epigraph to the novel talks of “peace to the heart with touch or word/Ease to the soul with note and chord”, I wonder if the dark, thorny underside and sexual jealousies of a seemingly joyful life are not responsible sometimes for the creative energies behind art and music. The spirit does “burn”, “embered in words”.

Nissim Ezekiel, almost in the same vein, sings in praise of poetry where there is “a time to act, a time to contemplate”. This is a moment of joy and a moment of control, the flux and fixity, the loss and recovery, which one sees in the players of chamber music and in the raging and frantic demonic life with its endless desire for personal change and equipoise, for doomed romance and ache for reconciliation.

It was at Rochdale that Michael was first introduced to classical music by Mrs Fromby who also lent him her Tononi, circa 1726, a valuable violin, setting him on a career held in contempt by his father who surely wouldn’t like him to “fiddle” for the rest of his life. Michael, who at the start of the novel, is 35 years old, plays as a second violinist in the Maggiore Quartet.

It was in Vienna, about 10 years earlier, that he had fallen in love with Julia, but owing to a frozen third finger and a row with his professor Carl, he leaves Vienna in a state of depression, especially because Julia had sided with the maestro. For the last 10 years, he desperately endeavours to get in touch with her but fails to find her. Perhaps he had hurt her too much.

At the start of the novel, London is peaceful and quiet but at the same time, the noise of traffic “slashes through Hyde Park”. London unsettles Michael for, from his eighth-floor apartment, no countryside is in view as in his childhood hometown, Rochdale, where as a young boy he could not even hear the sound of the wind: “I had never heard such silence before. And into that silence after a minute or two fell the rising song of a lark”. Many years later he and Julia would compare the lark with the nightingale and come to the conclusion that both are not so good-looking. But neither was Schubert who was “a bit of a frog” but a frog “you would have kissed”.

The lovers love, breathe and play music together. Beethoven’s opus 1 number 3 they find is a gem, especially its minor variations in the second movement, and Julia loves “the unflamboyant close of the entire work”. Strangely enough, and perhaps unknown to many Beethoven lovers, this opus was rewritten by him, now existing as opus 104. After a frantic search for this piece of music, Michael finds it finally in Harold Moore’s a “Dickensian haven” of music.

The record secure in his arms, he catches a coach and as he looks up, he spots Julia sitting in the coach standing next to his. His wild gesticulations having no effect, he sees Julia’s coach shooting ahead. He jumps off his coach and pursues her in a taxi. When he does catch up with her coach and searches for her among the passengers, he discovers that she is not in it. Dejected, he gets off. To his dismay, he discovers that he has forgotten the elusive Beethoven record in the taxi.

Luckily after a few days the cabbie traces Michael’s address and leaves the record with the attendant. Michael is exhilarated and listens to it from beginning to end repeatedly: “The variations take on a strange mysterious distance, as being, in a sense, variations one degree removed, orchestral variants of variations, but with changes too that go beyond what could be explained by orchestration alone.” While listening to this, Michael remembers the cabbie’s thoughtful and wonderful concern of delivering the record; he wants to know his address to thank him, but knows it is now impossible. For him this gesture and the music he is listening to coalesce: “But somewhere in this music interfused in my mind with so many extra-musical memories, this strange action too has found a sort of home”.

And then Julia suddenly makes an appearance at Wigmore Hall where the Maggiore Quartet has just performed. In their eventual meeting is visible the approaching inevitable separation. She is already married, has a son, and, on top of all, she is deaf. Against all odds, Michael and Julia begin to meet and become lovers once again. Her deafness does not deter her from playing because she has now learnt to minutely perceive the movements of other players. They go to Vienna and then to Venice to perform Schubert’s “Trout Quintet”. But their romance is short-lived as she has to return to her husband and son in London. Michael realises that he has no claim on her, and that now his Julia is lost to the American businessman.

Looking back on his student days in Vienna, Michael examines his past: Was he unseeing? Where was the balance of pain between him and his love, Julia? His loss in Vienna has left an eternal vacuum in his life. Feeling the “pressure of every breath” he had left Vienna and come to London, where his days are full of laziness, of lust, of lack of focus. His relationship with his 16-year-old student, Virginie, whom he teaches music, is ungratifying. Her clumsiness exasperates him when he thinks back of Julia who so gracefully, with her eyes closed would play Bach E major, especially the Prelude which was so captivating. It is the tone of Michael’s narration which is nostalgic and sentimental, probably one aspect which is most “equal” and even throughout the novel.

Being a member of a quartet, he experiences moments of unbearable abrasive disputes and differences with the other players, something which is so common in the world of chamber music. But the redeeming feature of it all is that when it comes to playing, all of them are one. Michael feels that as he plays the three-octave scale, he releases himself into the spirit of the quartet and becomes the music of the scale: “I mute my will, I free myself.” Undoubtedly, a musician like Haydn has the capacity to bring the players together, which probably Brahms doesn’t. “Exactitude and expressivity” is essential to music and all lovers of music realise it. The point is that it is different from the “jerky, abrasive” and sometimes irrelevant conversations that go on between players. Vikram Seth, the economist-turned-musicologist, has used the apt form and content to express this difference.

To break the monotony of his life in London, Michael begins one day to swim in the Serpentine and relishes the idea of a “masochistic luxury for winter” in the heart of London which braces him for the day. It “admitted him to a world outside Archangel Court and the Maggiore Quartet and Virginie’s flat and the past and future and ungiving pressure of my thoughts”.

Nonetheless, when he finds Julia, they together once again sink into “the strange tangled, unearthly beauty” of Haydn, Mozart and Schubert. The lovely theme and variations of “Avanti” or the newly discovered Beethoven quintet with its vigorous music entwines with the episodic plot of the novel and all the beautiful memories Michael has of Julia.

He had come from Rochdale, she from Oxford. They had met at a concert and fallen in love within a week. Michael realises that “she had been brought up in a world unreachably different from mine, where art and literature and music are absorbed without effort or explanation....It was she who became my best teacher, and for this as for everything else I gave my heart into her hand.”

In fact he later comes to the conclusion that he had “learned more from her than from anyone else, for what I learned from her I was not taught”. Here, he particularly means his education in music. In many ways she has been the making of him, and her loss has devastated him emotionally and physically.

The quotation from John Donne at the start of the novel seeks to find “one equal music” in a space where there are “no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession, no foes nor friends, but one equal communion and identity, no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity”. Perhaps these are the ends of all art and of life after death; the music and the love for it expresses a complex experience attempting to integrate life with art, desire with imagination and unquietness through an appropriate style.

Both confessional and argumentative, characterised by clarity, precision and very intensive research on western classical music, the novel works on a level of the romantic ideational tradition, experiencing the senses where there is no distance between moral reflection and actuality. Resolution is not all that it tries to seek; through music it tries to find a release, a “human balance humanly” within an openness and immediacy of Schubert’s last song:

“I see a man who stares upwards/ And wrings his hands from the force of his pain/ I shudder when I see his face/ The moon reveals myself to me.”

This then is the story of an Englishman, of parting and coming together, of the lost and found motif that is rendered through the aural and the verbal juxtaposed with the felicity and virtuoso of a musician and a writer. Written in the present tense, it brings out unpretentiously the urgency of the experience of not only listening to irresistible and deeply moving music, but the human side of our nature which is made up of hopes, memories, quarrels and, most of all, the pain and tenderness, the passion and despair that underlies love which is found and then sadly lost.

God in Science: Symbiosis of Modern Science and the World’s Religions by Sampooran Singh, Manjit Singh, Kanwaljit Kaur and Paramjit Singh. Vishvas Publications, Chandigarh. Pages xxxii+178. Rs. 250.

Review by Ramandeep S. Johal

THE environmental problems we face today are really global in nature. These problems stem from thinking that resources of the earth are infinite and one can exploit them without restraint. Two, each country can cut itself off from the rest of the world and keep on working for its own prosperity. This has been the attitude of individuals, societies, communities and countries which are galloping on the road to industrial development.

The truth is that we really are living in a “box”. Our air is limited and we cannot pollute it beyond a point. We think that the “smoke” rising from our burning desires and ambitions gets dissipated once a gust of wind blows. Where does the smoke go? It is time to realise that the earth and its eco-system have a limited capacity. It has intelligence but is fragile in the face of our way of living which is out of tune with nature.

We are not only wielding the axe against trees, but also the fellow men for whom we have developed weapons of mass destruction. It is not that our environment will perish first, but human survival as a species is at stake.

One may count other problems like political instability, terrorism, religious fanaticism, drug trafficking and so on. It is not difficult to see that many of these problems are interrelated in an intricate way. The present book deals with the root cause of all these problems and suggests some strategies to counter this global crisis. The authors are scientists of repute and have authored a number of papers published in national and international journals.

One may think himself to be an island and acting on that belief accumulate experiences, reactions and responses as his memory. This conditioning of the mind prevents us from looking at things in their larger context, with simplicity and without prejudice. The authors feel that we are almost all the time living at the level of “successive consciousness”, which looks serially at things. This mode inevitably causes a fragmented vision and as a consequence leads to conflict and misery. The misery is only heightened in our incapacity to understand the cause of all this and in our attempt to escape.

In contrast to “successive consciousness,” a completely different way of cognition or perception is available to us, which the authors call “simultaneous consciousness”. In this thought process incessant feeling of duality comes to an end and a new movement starts which is rooted in insight, and action borne out of this understanding is spontaneous. It is unconditional and not a reaction. Thus the process of accumulation of memory also comes to an end.

This mode of consciousness is not a new discovery. For ages sages, seers and men of wisdom have espoused this view of the world based on a holistic vision. But it is not akin to a scientific discovery which is objective and once discovered can be stored as memory. It is highly subjective and is entirely a matter of experience. Each one of us has to discover it himself to test the truth of it. But the authors contend that such an integrated vision is the only ray of hope to save our civilisation from a thinking it is caught in.

The book is divided into two parts. The first contains chapters on a scientific vision of our conditioned mind-body-brain system. A number of scientists, philosophers, educationists and seers have been quoted, who have expressed similar views on the human condition and consciousness. Many have sounded a warning to wake up mankind from its slumber and a mechanical way of life.

The second part is devoted to poetry. Insightful verses have been contributed by Air Vice Marshal Manjit Singh (retd) and Lieut-Col N.S. Bhandari (retd) which summarise the message propounded in the first part of the book.

The authors have already made significant contributions in this area with two earlier monographs — “Science of Life” and “The Masterplan Paradigm for Human Survival and Excellence”. They present a concrete action plan for reforming the human psyche.

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