Of wait, loss & freedom

Rajdeep Bains

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live”, said Norman Cousins, journalist, author, professor and world peace advocate. He might as well have been talking about All the Lives We Never Lived, the latest offering by Anuradha Roy whose previous novel, Sleeping on Jupiter, was longlisted for the 2015 Man Booker prize. 

Loss runs throughout a story that spans 60-odd years and covers such world changing events as the Second World War and India’s freedom struggle (and subsequent independence), and features well known names from history that weave in and out of the lives of the main characters. 

Myshkin Rosario’s may be the narrator but the story is as much that of his mother Gayatri — bold, unconventional, controversial. Myshkin is nine years’ old when she leaves him and his father and embarks upon a new life with Walter Spies, well-known German painter, photographer and chronicler. His father copes with her leaving, first by pretending that it’s temporary and then by leaving on an extended journey himself in search of self. It is up to Myshkins’s aging grandfather and his mother’s friend Liz to provide what stability they could.

Myshkin grows up to become a horticulturist — “a man who chose neither pen nor sword but a trowel”. In his sixties, he is “more comfortable with trees than with people”. Into this self-imposed isolation arrives a bulky envelope that he senses has something to do with his mother. Reluctantly opening it forces him to confront his own childhood as well as his mother’s, and to finally arrive at some semblance of understanding regarding why his mother made the choices she did.

The novel is based in the fictitious town of Muntazir, in the Himalayan foothills. Muntazir, in Urdu, means “one who waits impatiently”, and waiting is all Myshkin does as a child. He waits for his mother’s letters; he waits for his father to show compassion; he waits for understanding. His waiting only seems to end with the envelope that he is almost afraid to open.

While much of the novel’s focus is on Myshkin and his sense of loss the story does not vilify absent mothers. Nor does it glorify the feminist movement and women’s emancipation. It just chooses to tell a story with compassion and understanding.

Gayatri’s unusually independent streak comes from an unconventional upbringing where her father not only encourages her own art but also takes her on a journey to Bali so she can meet Rabindranath Tagore. While in Bali, she also meets Walter Spies and is introduced to a lifestyle where art is associated with freedom. In contrast her married life is stifling. Her husband looks upon art as unnecessary at best, and scandalous when practiced by a woman. His own life is taken up by the evolving freedom struggle and as a member of an anti-colonial organisation, ‘The Society for Indian Patriots’, he thinks a life of austerity and sacrifice is what the times call for. Gayatri, a maverick who paints in her garden, dances with her anglo-Indian friend, and even rides a bicycle, is embarrassing to her husband. When Walter Spies returns to her life, with renowned ballerina Beryl de Zoete in tow, Gayatri is irrepressibly drawn into the life she had tried to give up. A chance encounter with Begum Akhtar seems to underline her sense of being a captive. 

The novel is impressive in its scope, spanning generations, countries and the political turmoil across continents. However, it is even more impressive for the subtlety of narration, the quiet understanding of human emotions and for the detailed portrayal of characters. If these are qualities that appeal to you as readers, you will love this book.