Beautifully translated from Hindi, the narrative is a touching portrayal of a traumatised but reflective boy. Unlike T.S. Eliot's old man in Gerontion, Vaid's Beero doesn't expect an apocalyptic 'sign' as a cure for his existential dilemmas. On the contrary, the child knows he must live with them while he lives on.
Lost in darkness, Beero is sad, oppressed. The youngster is haunted by the desire for that elusive spark of spiritual comfort that sneaks up to him but slips away with equal stealth. He is a philosopher-child who loves his mother when he doesn't hate her; adores his granny whom his mother hates; and has for a father an inebriated wife-bashing gambler.
With his evocative prose, Vaid succeeds in writing the poetry of isolation. With his power of imagination, he generates characters who see-saw between the antithetical extremes of acceptance and aversion. Nobody merits uncritical admiration in a tale where, if the reader doesn't react to the father's deportment, it is the mother who bad-mouths the granny in narcissistic sorties.
When Beero's mother plays the detestable trespasser, the child reacts with contempt: "It must be Mother. Why can't she be at peace?" But when his mother responds to his physical injury with unbridled love and compassion, he finds himself thinking: "Why can't she always talk like this?"
In a final step in darkness, Beero essays to commit suicide but fails. The rope wouldn't kill him. The subtle climax communicates a notion that has anchored the creativity of many modern writers: life loves those who need not love life.
