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Any family devoid of love among its members is a broken family. Such a family lives in a newly built house with a defective central beam near a burial ground. The house is cold, but their hearts are colder. Their existence is as cold and isolated as the graveyard nearby. When a family becomes dysfunctional, who is to blame? Is it the parents who couldn’t nurture their marital relationship with love, respect, and friendship? Or the stars, planets, and their misalignment? When no amount of prayers and religious rituals can dispel the coldness of the house, when the ties holding them together get coated in ice and become just as brittle, how will the heat enter the house and the hearts? Basanta Basnet’s new novel, Simsara, grapples with the complexities of one such family.

Basnet launched his third book (Second novel) Simsara recently at Nepal Academy. His literary journey began with 72 ko Vismaya (Dismay of 2015), a non-fiction work that delved deep into Nepal’s turbulent post-transition period of 2015. Through this book, Basnet examined the events of profound historical significance, Madhesh Movement in the Tarai, the process leading to the drafting of the constitution under the Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal, the four-and-a-half-month embargo imposed by the Indian government, and the 2015 earthquake, which significantly influenced the politicians' efforts to draft the constitution.  Basnet's second book, Mahabhara, explored the themes of love between a Tamang boy and a Limbu girl, set against the political climate of late 90s and early 2000s Nepal, as well as the influences of religion and social foundations. Just as Mahabhara, Simsara is set in the eastern hills of Nepal. It revolves around the complexities of familial relationships and emotional isolation, highlighting how dysfunction within a family can reflect broader societal issues.

In an interview with Suraj Subedi, Basnet claims that our personal experiences aren’t merely personal but are deeply political, as they shape our perspectives. The author sketches his characters based on his personal experiences, knowledge, and imagination. In a dysfunctional family, children, despite being neither the cause nor worthy of blame in any way, are the ones who suffer the most. Sambat, a teenage boy, finds himself at a crossroad as his parents’ relationship deteriorates. He can neither go back to enjoying his childhood nor can he shoulder the responsibilities of an adult. An adolescent in its true sense, Sambat resists the overwhelming challenges of adulthood and yearns to hold onto the playfulness and innocence of childhood. Yet, his resistances are personal, and the majority of it takes place on a mental and emotional level.

The chasm between hearts 

As the length of the lessons Sambat is given to read aloud diminishes, the distance between his parents’ hearts widens. He is forced to navigate this distance but fails to do so. When his life gets chaotic and everything he holds dear begins to fall apart, he attempts to find solace in daydreaming. One day, when Ishvi visits his home accompanying his father, young love buds in his young heart. Sambat then fantasizes a life with Ishvi and leaves the other half of his bed for her every night. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, he hopes to create a healthy family of his own. But fate has something else in store for him.

Sambat’s emotional maturity is portrayed in the internal monologues he delivers. The depth of his internal dialogues with Ishvi surpasses his physical age. In his monologues, he becomes an adult. In his actions, he reverts back to a child. Sambat never gets to hear the end of the story between “Payuu” and “Goman” trees. However, he is a testament to the end of his story with Ishvi and of his parents’ stories. Both of these stories get an ending he could never anticipate.

The shifting political landscape 

Set in the Illam district of the late nineties, the novel also depicts the social and political weather of the time. The change in social and legal systems and the power dynamics between the government and the Maoist party are presented in the novel. While sparks of the Maoist revolution provide a viable environment for the setting of the novel, the author doesn't fully take advantage of it and limits the exploration of the political aspects. Even so, while establishing the clash between two legal systems: The Jana Adalat (The People’s Court) of Maoists and the court system of His Majesty’s Government of Nepal, Basnet exhibits his extensive background in journalistic writing. This approach is parallel to his writing in Mahabhara, where he practices objective reporting and presents the information as neutrally as possible.

Other characters

While the first half of the plot is dominated by Sambat's perspective, the second half introduces the viewpoint of a range of characters who envelop him like an umbrella. Yet, Sambat's views remain dominant throughout, as he serves as the central beam of both the umbrella and the narrative. However, he lacks the strength to become the central beam of his family. 

Simsara is the story of a house with a defective central beam. With a flawed central beam, the foundation of the house begins to falter. In the novel, just as the structural beam of the house, the pillar of a family is flawed in its representation. The patriarchal societal framework posits male as the head of the family. Even so, Mandakranta, his mother, is the unfaltering pillar of Sambat’s life. 

“My mother is like a walnut: hard on the outside, soft on the inside,” states Sambat. Mandakranta’s hardness symbolizes her resilience. Her struggle is not directed against a specific person but is a fight for justice. Her strength and wisdom are presented in the final chapter of the book, where she exhibits the strength of character by being compassionate and empathetic. However, despite having enough space for Mandakranta’s character development throughout the novel, she is denied a voice of her own. While even the beam expresses its thoughts, Mandakranta’s perspective remains unvoiced, despite her being one of the strongest characters. 

Just as strong as Mandakranta is, Dhanroop, Sambat’s father, is a weak character. Even with his position as the male head of the family, his lack of integrity and inability to stand his ground weaken his outlook. So much so that not even his newfound religious inclination could prevent him from bearing the burden of the consequences of his actions.

Finding warmth in fractured bonds

Even though the narrative expression seems repetitive somewhere in the middle, Basnet has stood tall in the challenge of a fiction writer to make his characters seem real. The metaphor of the house as a cold and isolated space parallels the characters’ emotional isolation. And the narration sets a departure from the often-overlooked strength of women in traditional societies. Simsara, like his earlier works, draws on the theme of division. While 72 ko Vismaya is a melting pot of top-down (Government) and bottom-up (Martyr’s family) approaches to looking at the Madhes Revolution, Mahabhara echoes the narrative of personal dreams trained and transformed by the political upheaval. Likewise, Simsara is a tale of how familial structures and power dynamics influence individual lives, particularly those of children, entangled with societal and political contexts.

Simsara is a story of distance: between Ishvi and Sambat, between Payuu and Goman, between Dhanroop and Mandakranta, and between Khawa and Simsara. But that’s just the beginning, not the end. As the characters navigate these distances, Sambat dives into the depths of his own heart and emerges into adulthood. Meanwhile, in her heart, Mandakranta ignites a warmth strong enough to heat the cold house. Likewise, Simsara has the potential to captivate its readers this winter with the simplicity of its language and the depth of its content.

I had heard a lot about British author and screenwriter Dolly Alderton. She is a columnist for The Sunday Times and the author of the hugely popular memoir ‘Everything I know About Love’ which won a National Book Awards (United Kingdom) in 2018. Everyone I know seems to have read Everything I Know About Love and they have great things to say about it. I, for some reason, hadn’t picked up her work despite having come across the memoir and her debut fiction novel ‘Ghosts’. I often took them down from the shelves at the bookstore I frequent, randomly read a page, and put them back.

However, when I came across ‘Good Material’ and read the blurb, I wanted to buy and read it straight away. A story about a breakup while trying to come to terms with the fact that life is passing him by, Good Material seemed like a fun and insightful read. I have to say I enjoyed the book (though not as much as I thought I would when I read the blurb). I think Alderton is a good writer. Her writing is easy to read and immersive. But Good Material didn’t make it to my growing list of favorite books and I don’t find myself recommending it to people either.

Good Material is the story of Andy and Jen, or rather the story of their breakup. When Jen leaves Andy, he is devastated. He doesn’t understand why she wanted to end things when they didn’t have any major issues. At 35, Andy goes back to temporarily living with his parents and his friends before finding an affordable place to rent as a single man as he gets his affairs in order. But things aren’t easy and he feels out of place, adrift without a purpose in life. His friends are married and having babies, and he’s struggling with his career and has no idea where his life is headed. Andy wants to figure out why the relationship fizzled out as he thinks solving that will mean Jen finding her way back to him.

The first 200 or so pages of the book is Andy’s side of the story. He comes across as a good guy, with his heart in the right place. But as with most people, he doesn’t seem to be able to put aside his wants and needs for someone else. As he wallows and whines, you feel bad for him while also understanding why Jen would leave him. In the last 100 pages, you get to hear from Jen and that is when things fall into place. Andy’s version of the story makes Jen sound callous, even though he never portrays her in a bad light. But when Jen narrates her story, you realize breakups are never simple. Every relationship is messy and complicated and it takes a lot of work and sacrifice to make it work.

One of the main (and perhaps only) reason why I’m not raving about the book is because I felt Andy’s portion dragged on. Jen’s bit was enthralling and I breezed through the pages. The story felt complete and real. It was a love story without being a cliché love story. The side characters felt like people I knew. They had a real feel to them even though there’s not much character development. I think I would have loved the book had it been slightly shorter. At its current length, the story tends to bog you down.

Good Material

Dolly Alderton

Published: 2023

Publisher: Penguin Random House UK

Pages: 345, Paperback

Jivesh Jha’s ‘Beneath The Sun: Equality for Everyone The Spirit of Chhath Festival’ offers a compelling exploration of the Chhath festival, delving beyond its religious significance to examine its profound social, cultural, and environmental implications. 

To establish its importance, Jha illuminates the festival's historical roots, intricate rituals, and the values it embodies, providing a comprehensive understanding of its multifaceted nature. The book successfully interweaves personal anecdotes, scholarly insights, and references to Hindu scriptures to present a holistic view of Chhath. Jha's own experiences as a devotee add a layer of authenticity to the narrative, allowing readers to connect with the festival on a personal level.

Jha effectively introduces Chhath as a unique Hindu Vedic festival celebrated with great zeal and festivity in Nepal and India. He emphasizes its dedication to the Sun God, Surya, and his consort, Chhathi Maiya, highlighting the belief that proximity to water fosters a connection with the divine. The author traces the festival’s origins, explaining its evolution from Suryashashthi in ancient times to its current form as Chhath, a distinctive and revered sacred ritual.

The book provides a detailed account of the festival's rituals, outlining the four-day observance that includes rigorous fasting, ceremonial bathing, and prayers to the setting and rising sun. Jha meticulously describes the preparations involved, from cleaning water bodies to crafting winnowing baskets and pottery. The rituals include Machh-Maruwa Barnai (The Vow of Purity), Nahay-Khay (Bathing and Eating), Kharna (The Fast Begins), Sandhya Arghya (Evening Offerings) and Usha Arghya (Morning Offerings), which Jha describes with devotional passion. This attention to ritual details allows readers to visualize the festival’s vibrant atmosphere and the meticulous efforts undertaken by devotees.

One of the book’s strengths lies in its exploration of Chhath’s significance beyond mere religious observance. Jha argues that the festival serves as a powerful symbol of social cohesion, bringing together people from diverse backgrounds, irrespective of caste, creed, or social status. He cites examples of Muslim women participating in the festival, further highlighting its inclusive nature. This inclusivity is also reflected in the absence of male priests or the necessity of reciting Sanskrit mantras, empowering women to take on a decisive role.

The author also sheds light on the festival's economic implications, particularly for artisans and farmers. He notes the significance of using locally sourced agricultural produce in the offerings, promoting agricultural productivity and boosting local economies. The book skilfully demonstrates how Chhath intertwines religious devotion with social and economic well-being, creating a sense of shared prosperity and community.

Jha advocates for the festival's inherent message of environmental consciousness. He meticulously describes rituals such as bathing in natural water bodies and cleaning Ghats, symbolizing purification and reinforcing the importance of maintaining clean water sources. He highlights the use of biodegradable materials like bamboo and clay, emphasizing the festival’s eco-friendly approach.

The author connects these practices to broader themes of sustainable development, aligning Chhath’s rituals with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). He argues that the festival’s emphasis on clean water, soil conservation, and the use of organic produce contributes to achieving goals related to poverty reduction, good health, and environmental sustainability. This connection to global development initiatives elevates the festival’s relevance in contemporary society.

Jha eloquently captures the vibrant cultural tapestry woven into the Chhath festival. He describes the traditional art form of Mithila painting, often used to depict the festival's rituals and significance. Additionally, he dedicates a section to the devotional folk songs sung during the festival, emphasizing their role in narrating its significance and conveying messages of equality, social harmony, and environmental conservation.

The author’s inclusion of these cultural elements enriches the book’s narrative, providing a glimpse into the artistic expressions that accompany the festival’s religious observances. The vivid descriptions of the songs, along with their translations, allow readers to appreciate the depth of emotion and cultural significance embedded within them.

While ‘Beneath The Sun’ offers a comprehensive overview of the Chhath festival, there are a few areas where further exploration could enhance its depth. The book provides compelling examples of Muslim participation in Chhath; however, it would benefit from a more nuanced discussion of how different communities within Hinduism experience the festival. The source mentions that Dalit communities may celebrate Chhath separately. A deeper exploration of these dynamics could provide a more complete picture of the festival’s inclusivity.

Jha passionately advocates for the festival's commitment to environmental conservation. However, the book could benefit from acknowledging the challenges to maintaining clean water bodies and promoting sustainable practices, especially in the face of urbanization and pollution. Addressing these challenges would strengthen the book’s call for environmental stewardship.

While the book mentions the use of social media and digital platforms in celebrating Chhath, it could benefit from further examining the impact of globalization and modernisation on the festival’s traditions and practices. Exploring how these forces shape the festival’s future would add a valuable layer to the analysis.

There are minor grammatical errors in the book. The following sentence stands out as an example: “Its the festival which promotes socialism, equality and fraternity among the community members” (Page 25). The correct usage would be “It’s the festival…”. Instead of the ideologically loaded word ‘socialism’, the author could have used the word ‘social harmony’. 

Despite these potential areas for expansion and grammatical glitches, ‘Beneath The Sun’ stands as a valuable contribution to understanding the Chhath festival’s significance. Jha’s meticulous research, coupled with his personal insights, provides a captivating account of a festival that celebrates faith, family, community, and nature. The book effectively highlights the festival’s ability to transcend religious boundaries and promote values of equality, environmental consciousness, and social cohesion.

By illuminating the richness and depth of the Chhath festival, Jha encourages readers to appreciate its enduring relevance in contemporary society. His work serves as a testament to the power of cultural traditions to inspire social harmony and environmental stewardship, offering a hopeful message for a world increasingly seeking sustainable and inclusive ways of living.

Have you ever had a chicken dish at a restaurant and wished you could have it every single day? I have a couple of dishes that I wish I could have for lunch or dinner on a regular basis. But it’s neither healthy nor financially feasible to order your favorite meal like that. So, wouldn’t it be great if you could replicate them at home instead? This way you can ensure the food is fresh and the spice/oil quotient is exactly right.

I often turn to YouTube recipes, especially Ranveer Brar’s channel, to make some dishes that isn’t our usual thing. But trying to cook while watching someone instruct is a harrowing experience. I can never keep up and it always takes longer than the stipulated time. And that is one of the reasons why I like cookbooks. They are easier to work with. Over the last few years, I’ve amassed quite a few cookbooks. I recently got Dan Toombs ‘The Curry Guy’ and it’s become my favorite one so far.

It’s a bright pink book filled with spicy chicken recipes. There’s everything from the classic butter chicken to elaborate kebabs and grilled delicacies. As with most cookbooks I have, this one also has full page photos of the dishes accompanying the recipes. Looking at the photos in cookbooks is one of the best parts of owning so many. I must admit that when buying a cookbook, the layout and presentation of the photos is a deciding factor.

The Curry Guy is divided into seven sections. There’s ‘Starters and Snacks’, ‘Karahi Cooking’, ‘Chicken Curry, Stews and Sauce-based Dishes’, ‘Frying and Stir-fries’, ‘Wraps and Sandwiches’, ‘Barbecue’ and ‘Basics, Accompaniments, and Sides’. Each section has interesting tips and recipes that you, until now, have only had at restaurants. Now, with Toombs help you can make them at home. The best part is that the dishes taste absolutely delicious—the recipes have been perfected in Toombs’ kitchen. You will also come to know about many other cooking styles and restaurant style gravies and curries.

You will learn how to make Dragon Chicken, Punjabi Chicken Samosa, Goan-Style Chicken Vindaloo, Szechuan Chicken, Chicken Rogan Josh, Kolkata Chicken Chaap, Chicken Shami Kebabs, and much more. If you follow the recipe to a t, the dish will taste like a restaurant cooked meal. I also loved the language which is quite conversational and gentle. This book of recipes from South and Southeast Asia will be an essential guide that you won’t be able to do without once you have a copy.

The Curry Guy (Chicken)

Dan Toombs

Published: 2024

Publisher: Quadrille Publishing Limited

Pages: 175, Hardcover