In the Convent of Little Flowers

In the Convent of Little Flowers

  - Indu Sundaresan

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I just loved the first two books of the Taj trilogy. I didn't get around to reading the third, because it is in some sense not the continuation of the first two books, and I had quite enough of Mughal history at that time, and then just never got back to it. I also liked her story-telling in 'The Mountain of Fire', even though the book didn’t work as a whole. So, when I first came across her collection of stories - In the Convent of Little Flowers - with a beautiful cover, an intriguing title and interesting blurb, it promptly went on my TBR. So it is that I had been wanting to read it for a long time, and had very high expectations from it. But it wasn’t available in India, and the import fee jacked up the price so high that I didn’t feel justified in ordering it when I had a lot of other interesting stuff to read.

Well, I am just glad that I didn’t spend all that money on it. It took me a long time to finish, almost giving me a reader’s block. Apart from the fact that in last few months I have been spending most of my spare time in my other passion (namely, art), I read only one book at a time, and very rarely abandon one in the middle. I wanted to finish it, and yet couldn’t summon enough enthusiasm to finish.

The book just didn't work for me. Apart from the fact that the tone of all the stories is melancholy and depressing (even when there is a slight gleam of hope), I didn't really find a fresh perspective in most of the stories. For example, two of the stories deal with children’s’ mistreatment of elderly parents, and subjecting them to not just neglect, but criminal abuse. Now, how many stories and movies on this theme have you come across? Same is the case with the stories about unwed mothers or a purported NRI duping a girl’s family for dowry; even the one about wife-swapping is nothing new. Having grown up in small-town India in the 70s and 80s, and having read hindi literature (and translations of other regional works) and hindi magazines of that era, most of the themes were very familiar, and at least I did not find any new insights into the situations either. Overall, a big disappointment from the work of an author whose earlier works I admired. I would have rated it at one star for the content, I added one for the wonderful imagery of the setting she has painted in many of the stories.

Works such as these by NRI authors, sometimes make me wonder about their target audience. Are they trying to tell a story with universal appeal? Or are they targeting Indian diaspora overseas to make them feel nostalgic (if so, I don’t think it works very well, as for me, the feeling it most invoked was of negativity). Or are they targeting the western population, who commonly perceive India as an exotic and yet backward country, and reaffirming their belief by perpetuating the stereotyped ideas?

The Mountain of Light

The Mountain of Light

  - Indu Sundaresan

The first book by Indu Sundaresan that I read was ‘The Twentieth Wife’, and I was absolutely enthralled by it. I loved the sequel (The Feast of Roses) too. On a visit to Blossoms, I had been looking out for her collection of stories, ‘In the Convent of Little Flowers’; I didn’t find it, but I came upon ‘The Mountain of Light’. It belonged to the same genre (Historical fiction), and the subject – The Kohinoor (or Koh-i-Noor, as is described here) – appeared very interesting.

After I bought it, it kept on lying for almost two years (I was mostly in my non-reading phases during this time), before I started reading it on a flight. I finished about 105 pages in a single sitting on that short flight! The narrative kept me hooked, and at that point I didn’t regret buying it solely on the strength of the previous works I had read by the author. However, my conviction did not last the entire length of the book. It is undoubtedly a well written story, but I found it disappointing, and it failed to live up to the expectation I had from it.

The actual origins of the world’s most well-known diamond – the Kohinoor – are unknown; this book tells the story of the magnificent diamond from the time it reached into the possession of legendary Maharaja Ranjit Singh of Punjab to its passing into the hands (or crown) of the empress of Great Britain, Queen Victoria. The diamond is also said to have a curse – a man cannot safely wear it in a crown, which is why the Mughal emprerors had it embedded in the Peacock Throne, and Ranjit Singh wore it in an armlet. The promise – as you can imagine – is irresistible. And this is where this fails. I felt that the book is composed of four distinct tales, only loosely bound by the Kohinoor.

The first part of the book narrates the events that led to the acquisition of the diamond by Maharaja Ranjit Singh. Shah Shuja, the exiled king of Afganistan, and his wife Wafa Begum, are imprisoned by the Maharaja – he rescued Shah Shuja from imprisonment in exchange for diamond, but later Wafa Begum is reluctant to hand him the diamond as promised. At last, they have to surrender it to the Maharaja, who retains it, as well as the vast Punjab empire, till his death. During this timeline, the story meanders into an account of Lord Auckland’s sisters, Emily and Fanny – which would have been very well, had it had a relevance to the events that take place later on.

The second story deals with the boy king Maharaja Dalip Singh, the heir of Ranjit Singh, whose empire is annexed by the British. He is raised under the guardianship of the British regent (John? Henry? Cant recall the name) and ultimately exiled to England. The author seems to have completely skirted the unpleasant part of the British takeover of Indian kingdoms, and portrayed the regent in a very compassionate light. While I was approaching this part, I was apprehensive about the traumatic details of British oppression, however I found the completely benevolent tone difficult to digest too. A large part of this story is devoted to the life and affairs of the regent, and again, has hardly any relevance to the central theme.

A third story captures the actual transfer of the diamond from India to London, and as expected, is considerably dramatized. A little too much, I would say.

Then we find the exiled prince (or self-proclaimed Maharaja), old and dying, in Paris. Interspersed are his reminiscences of his early life in Britain. His initial years are covered with a lot of excitement, and a grand life where he has the queen’s favor, though he also starts to get a first-hand experience of deep-rooted racism. How and when he got from that privileged life to the current destitute state, is either not mentioned, or I am unable to recall after a couple of months.

There is no doubt that each story is wonderfully told, in the same delightful style that I found so captivating in ‘The Twentieth Wife’ – great narration with a rich imagery of people and places. However, that is what it amounts to – a string of stories, where the primary character (the Kohinoor) makes only a few fleeting appearances. The author has clearly stated that several events have been a product of her own imagination, but here the imagination appears to have taken the predominant role. The entire tale that is meant to be a historic fiction, was more fiction than history, and felt like it (I didn’t feel that so much in the books on Noor-Jahan’s life). It would not have rankled, if these sub-plots had a role to play in the central story. It was as if the characters made an appearance, engaged you, and then fizzled out. Overall, a good read, but unsatisfying.

The Feast Of Roses

The Feast of Roses
  - Indu Sundaresan

The second book in the Taj Mahal Triology*, continues the journey of Nur Jahan - after her marriage to Prince Salim, through his ascension to the throne of the Mughal empire and the rise in Noor Jahan's power, to the ultimate decline of her fortunes.

The first half is bright, as Salim takes on the title of Emperor Jahangir, their love blossoms, and Nur Jahan increases her influence to eventually become the actual ruler of the empire. Then it gradually becomes darker, as the European powers start coming in, manipulating the Indian kingdoms with deviousness and taking on the Mughal empire, even as Jahangir's health begins to fail. Nur Jahan desperately struggles to retain the power, but is betrayed by her own brother and niece, for whom she had done so much. She tries to influence Khurram, whom she had once showered with much love, but without result.  It ends sadly, as she ultimately loses it all with Jahangir's death - her love and her power.

In this book, as in the first, Mehrunnisa's character personifies beauty, intelligence, and determination, the descriptions are vivid, and the narration is absorbing. However, it wasn't as great as the first one, partly due to the inherent darkness of the story, and in part due to the fact that the depiction of grandeur and intrigues no longer have that novelty factor. It could perhaps have been shorter, to hold up the interest better.

I recommend both the books highly, and definitely suggest reading the second one if you have read the first. I haven't read the third (Shadow Princess), and not inclined to do so anytime soon, owing to the less-than-enthusiastic reviews.

*I wondered why it is called after the Taj - the first two books tell the story of Nur Jahan, and its only the third, which I understand is quite disjoint from the first two, that relates to the great monument. I suspect it is to evoke the romance and interest that the name of Taj can do like no other, and because the concept of trilogies is in vogue.

The Twentieth Wife

The Twentieth Wife

  - Indu Sunderasan

 

This was my first experience with historical fiction (other than 'Memoirs of a Geisha', which I had thought to be an auto/biography earlier), and I think that this was an excellent introduction to the genre.

It is a great saga that wonderfully  weaves the historical facts from the Mughal reign in India in 16th/17th century, into the story of Mehrunnisa - from her birth in tragic conditions in Afghanistan until her marriage to the Mughal Emperor Jahangir and receiving the title of Nur-Jahan.

Nur-Jahan was known for her beauty, intelligence and ambition, and the author has built up the picture gradually and beautifully. She became Jahangir's twentieth and the last wife, and the only one he married for love. After reading this book , I felt that history books have been rather unkind to her, projecting her as a scheming and power-hungry woman. I wonder if this depiction is rooted in gender bias - it is quite evident that she was a force to reckon with; it was, and still is, difficult in our culture to find acceptance for such power being wielded by a woman. However, here the author portrays her in a different shade - she has to struggle against her personal tragedies, she is dejected at times but her inner spirit never dies, she is vulnerable at times, and determined to achieve what she desires, at others.

The book confirms to the facts to a large extent, though it has been quite dramatized and romanticized - but I am not complaining in the least, since that is what makes it so very compelling. I was aware of at least the "highlights" of the story, having read about it in history in school, and a few story books. So it was not the anticipation of what happened next that kept me hooked on to it. Instead it was the way the events unfold in the book, the intrigues and subterfuges, an insight into the thoughts and motivation of numerous characters, and complex maze of relationships between them.

Throughout the history, any contention for a throne has been fraught with greed, hate and blood, and I think that the battles for Mughal throne have been bloodier than most. In this aspect, a story about these times has enough of background "masala" to generate an interest. The author has enriched it by focusing on a parallel politics that goes on in the "zenana", detailing the conventions, customs and culture of the time, and bringing forth the picture of the grandeur, opulence and power that the Mughal royalty lived in.

What I couldn't digest was Mehrunnisa's single-minded determination to marry Prince Salim, right from the age of eight! Seriously, how many eight year olds would dream of marriage to a prince charming (literally!), even in those times, and how many of them will sustain this juvenile fantasy till the ripe old (old as per the times, that is) age of 34! Further, she is said to be attracted to Salim because of his good looks, and later, also because of his sophisticated tastes. But is that enough for an intelligent and mature woman, when there is little that is redeemable in him - he is weak in character, easily influenced, unstable and inconsistent (he even forgets about her for years, and not just once, after professing his unending love), and is addicted to alcohol and opium.
The story is essentially a romance, but the romantic scenes were rather sloppy - in fact they were the only cringe-worthy parts in an otherwise gripping and fast-paced narrative.