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Feb 25, 2016wyenotgo rated this title 4.5 out of 5 stars
This book is all about character and place, the story being almost inconsequential. Sripathi, the main protagonist is, as noted in the title to chapter 12 "an ordinary man." In many ways, he has been a failure, first having failed to live up to the expectations of his parents, then seeing his fortunes, already damaged by his father's profligacy continue to decline, his house crumble into decay, his somewhat demeaning employment become increasingly tenuous. He even blames himself for failing to find a husband for his sister, who is dependent upon him. His daughter has disgraced him by backing out of an advantageous marriage and marrying a foreigner; his son shows no promise, being interested only is street activism in support of vague ideals that seem to have no relevance to his family and their daily realities. Sripathi spends his leisure time writing hundreds of letters to editors of several newspapers. Then he finds himself also saddled with a seven year old granddaughter whom he has never before met and who in turn seems frightened by him and refuses to speak. Among the other characters, certainly the most compelling (and infuriating) is Sripathi's mother Ammayya, a nasty, manipulative, venal tyrant who, among her many sins, has conspired to make sure that her daughter Putti will never find a husband, so that she will remain Ammayya's personal slave. Apart from the people, there's another gigantic character that pervades the entire scene: it is India, or in this case a slice of India, the dusty, chaotic, smelly, noisy seaside town of Toturpuram. Therein lies the richness of this book and what lifts it far above the "ordinary". Badami has captured the setting so magnificently that I could feel the stink of the non-functioning sewers, the overpoweringly oppressive midday heat, the deafening din of traffic and crowded humanity sinking into my own flesh and bones. I was particularly struck by a passage in the chapter titled "Journey" describing a scene in the midst of the city traffic: "In between lanes, at the site of some repair work temporarily abandoned by the municipality for lack of funds or inclination to work, a beggar had constructed a house with gunny sacks, sewer covers stolen from around the city, empty boxes that had once contained television sets, and even a pilfered sign that said: 'Private Property -- Beware of Dog'. The last bit of the message had been scratched out and replaced with 'Mr. S. S. Ishiwaran, M.A. History, University of Kupparigunda'. Mr. Ishiwaran himself stood outside his home with a disdainful expression on his face, as if he had nothing to do with the shack behind him. Now and again he lost his aloofness and screamed spectacular abuse at one of several naked children playing calmly in the middle of all the traffic, dashing after marbles among the churning wheels."