A moving self-analysis
Arun Gaur

Dissection Box
by Ajit Singh Yad. ABS Publications. Rs 150. Pages 100

THE novelette follows the technique of the stream of consciousness. In due course, the soul of the author is laid bare - perhaps the title of the novel has something to do with this self-dissection. The mind is a box that is to be dissected layer by layer. It is not so much the story or the technique in the novel that keeps our interest alive, but a mind that struggles against the debilitating, rigid, and irrational conventions of society to express resistance.

Different members of the author's family (the novelette seems to carry a strong autobiographical element) and close associates generate different streams of consciousness. Their conduct is examined in relation to its impact on the author's life and thoughts. The attitude of the author towards them shifts generally from abhorrence to adoration as his mind matures both physically and biologically, endeavouring to come to terms with the nostalgic impulses.

Often the range of the issues taken up doesn't remain confined to the nuances of personal attitude, but an issue is examined in a larger social, economic, and philosophic context. Woman is a wonderful creation, love is the greatest emotion, rational thinking harmonises our life, money must be saved for emergencies, existence without books is impossible, government jobs are great, children should be provided with freedom and proper care, bribery like fatalism is a sin committed against oneself as well as against the nation - are some of the issues that have been discussed.

The reflections recoil on the personality of the narrator, giving us an insight into many of his oddities. We come to know that he had been a brooding child in the habit of talking to himself; he was an academic failure in some respects; he could not drive a scooter and used instead a moped, and sometimes even a lady's bicycle; he was a spineless and helpless victim of college politics: "Enthusiasm and missionary zeal to teach the students with affection, sincerity and hard work dwindled as I was more an assistant to the Principal than a lecturer in English." We also find him refuting the charge of atheism: "Am I an atheist because I don't go to the temple every morning and evening and recite divine hymns daily? Am I an atheist because I honour, revere and love all the religions of the world?"

The essentially humanising spirit of the narrator makes him salute the cosmic vision of philosophers, saints, scientists, writers and artists from whom he seems to have drawn some of the inspiration to write this work.

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