Penguin has cast its net wide to reveal India "like this only" in akaleidoscopic coverage of scenic and sore spots, some of which promise to becollide-oscopic with disastrous effect on our enormous tourist potential. Some 35 essaysroam at random (missing out on cricket and Kashmir) penned by some of the biggest names inthe business. But it is not the Naipauls, the Rushdies, the Dalrymples or the Therouxesthat stand out since most of their stuff is old hat. It is the quality of Indian writingthat shines through and M.J. Akbar, P. Sainath, Vijay Nambisan and Jerry Pinto easily holdtheir own with the videshi ustads. Even more to my liking is the poise and verve of thehomegrown lady contributors who steal the thunder when it comes to readability.
Namita Gokhale is passionate about Nainital despite its asphyxiating centrepiece whileAnita Nair introduces us to the lost world of the Wyanad hills; Royina Grewal lingersalong Narmada's unspoilt upper reaches, while Sarayu Ahuja flies Jet Airways with anidli Amma indignant at the comeuppance of the twiceborn in Periyar's province. SeemeQasim visits pre-quake Bhuj only to have the local police barge into her room on thestrength of her name. Anees Jung explores the fading glories of the Deccan sultanate anddiscovers that "women continue to hide themselves as if they were diamonds". Isthere anything tougher than being a modern Muslim woman traveller?
From Andrew Harvey's laidback and lyrical sojourn in Leh and Jan Morris'cheerful encounter with Darjeeling, the reader travels south to the threshold ofVeerappan's jungle hideout with Abraham Verghese and west to Malnad with adisappointingly uncritical assessment of Sringeri's claims to ancientry from R.K.Narayan. Some of the essays come perilously close to Ripley's 'believe it ornot'. Did you know that Delhi's beggars move to the hill stations in summer tomaintain a meaningful relationship with their clients? Or that in north Kerala your ladybus conductor will clean up passengers' vomit? What about Bihar where for Rs 5 youcan dance with a bear or, for a few more, purchase a "singleshot pistol" andplay Magadh Roulette. ("Bihar certainly broadens the mind!")
If this collection sounds excessively Anglocentric (surely Nirmal Verma in translationwould have been better than Allen Ginsberg's impressionistic uninvolvement with theBanaras ghats) at least Angrezi has the detachment for fresh perspective from outsiderswho are not conditioned to the brutalities that is the lot of the downtrodden.Exploitation of tribals and widows by pious commission agents are commonplace and Akbarrecounts how even a tribal decorated by the President of India for bravery is not immuneto being bayoneted to death by the Bihar police. Everybody Loves a Good Sainath, andPalagummi does not disappoint. In the "Cut-Off Area" of Orissa he discoverstribals so poor that the moneylenders are not interested in them.
Move to Madras and Vidyakar, a voluntary social worker who cares for abandonedstreetchildren, stands in despair before a hoarding that reads 'Be a ProudIndian'. Pride runs high in Ayodhya and so does fear, as Joana Blank discovers whileseeking to trace the various versions of the Ramayana. If Naipaul's Mrs Mahendra,wife of a Delhi contractor with a craze for phoren, crumples before the challenges ofmodernity, it is not surprising that Blank's Mrs Sahiya, a violent minority-baiterbaying for blood, should have no stomach for facing the demands of modern life. Retreatinto the past is the only option. Possibly she could empathise with Phoolan Devi whochanted 'Jai Durga Mata' as she had 20 villagers gunned down to settle scoresand further the politics of revenge.
However, it is to Vikram Seth we must turn to escape the frustration of the inadequateand the "dream addict", as Amit Chaudury calls him. On his return overland fromChina through Nepal, Seth confirms Moraes' argument that India is singularly herselfand there is no such thing as the national ethos or mode of thinking.
Seth spells out the only improving reflection I find in the book (in my generation itis de rigueur to witter on philosophically but perhaps today's traveller believes theworld is too far gone for improvement). He writes: "To learn about another greatculture is to enrich oneself, to understand one's country better, to feel more athome in the world and to add to the reservoir of individual goodwill." Amen to that.
The ultimate test for a travel writer is whether he can, like Captain Cook in 1776,arouse the Bosswell in us. "I catch the curiosity," Bosswell said, "andadventure, and felt a strong inclination to go with him on his next voyage." IndianJourneys passes this test. The reader is armed with information and itineraries enablinghim to sally forth and hopefully pen thoughts that find a way into a companion volume,reiterating India's position as the world's most rewarding destination.
