Brahmahatya

Several months ago, I learned about the novel  Brahmahatya by Rajiv Mittal, published in 2017, on Tracy's wonderful book blog, Pen and Paper.  Her post quickly led to my interest in reading this book, and a result, the author sent me a copy of his book.  In March, I featured a guest post about writing by author Rajiv Mittal.  It took me longer than anticipated to read this story, but I finished it recently. Without further adieu, here are some of my thoughts about this book, Brahmahtya, which the author calls a shraddhanajali (homage) to his father.

"As soon as he stepped outside of the hospital confines, his senses were assaulted from all directions: the sights, sounds, smells and feel of India."
~ Brahmahtya, Rajiv Mittal 

Set mainly in India, Brahmahtya is a story about Ravi Narasimhan, a forty-year-old bachelor who lives and works in Dubai. He cares deeply about his elderly father, Srinivasan Narasimhan, and calls him twice a week to check up on him. Even though their conversations are kept short by his father, Ravi knows that his father looks forward to these regular calls.  One day, Ravi receives a call from India and learns that his father has fallen.  Ravi flies to India to visit his father in the hospital. It looks as if his father will soon recover, so Ravi arranges for attendants to help his father after he leaves the hospital, and returns to Dubai.  However, Ravi receives a call from India on his first day back to the office. His father has had a stroke.

Ravi returns to India and tries desperately to get his father admitted to Govindarajan Memorial Residency, or GMR, because it was recommended to him by Dr. Hariharan at the hospital as a place that provides elderly people with dignity and care, and also because it's near to a hospital if residents need any sort of medical treatment.  Ravi meets with Bhavna Ramesh, Operations-In-Charge, who is competent and attractive. She realizes that Ravi's father, who everyone calls Naru Sir, had been her schoolteacher, and she's eager to see him again. Bhavna tells Ravi that Dr. Krishnamachari Iyengar, a Brahmin doctor at GMR called Dr. Chari, does not possess the qualities of a Brahmin, but that he's rigid and lacks compassion.  Bhavna tries to help Ravi by providing instructions about how his father should arrive at GMR.  Unfortunately, things do not go well in that regard, and Dr. Chari refuses to admit Naru Sir to GMR, though Ravi pleads with him to do so.  So Naru Sir is instead placed in a depressing old age home called Blessings, which Ravi hopes will be a temporary measure.  Sadly, Naru Sir dies.  When Ravi eventually goes back to his office in Dubai, he's surprised to see a letter of acceptance from GMR for his late father.  I will not reveal much more about the plot because I want to avoid spoilers. 

I'm still thinking about this book, and expect to remember it for  a long time (although I will likely reread it, soon).  It's a skillfully written story about the relationship between Ravi and his father, which makes you think about how we should care for the elderly.  Due to health issues, my own father spent the last few years of his life at a home for the aged on the east coast. Brahmahatya is an intensely emotional story in which characters experience and express a variety of emotions: guilt, grief, hate, peace, hope, and love.  The details in the story are rich, and present many of the unique smells (sandalwood), sounds (tinkling of a prayer bell) and tastes (South-Indian filter coffee) of India.  (Some are much less pleasant.) The  characters, Ravi, Naru Sir, Bhavna, Laxmi, Dr. Chari, Sridhar, and others, are brought to life by the author's vivid word portraits.  As a reader I was especially sympathetic toward Ravi and Bhavna, the main characters.  I was invested in the story and wanted to know how things would turn out for the characters I cared most about (will there be a sequel?). Bhavna raises her twelve-year-old daughter, Laxmi, who has cerebral palsy, by herself, as her husband could not bear having a disabled, "imperfect" child. 

Brahmahtya is touching and heartbreaking at times.  The book includes ancient Hindu scriptures and stories in the story, as characters grapple with various challenges.  Like Tracy from Pen and Paper, I'm also not familiar with these scriptures, but they add an authentic and religious or spiritual  dimension to the story; I don't think my lack of familiarity detracted too much from my understanding of the story.  Brahmahtya held my attention at all times, and I relished reading it.  Many thanks to Rajiv Mittal for sending me a complimentary copy of this touching and memorable novel.

Thanks for reading! Your comments are welcomed.

Why Do I Write?: A Guest Post by Rajiv Mittal

Last month, I read a terrific, concise review on Tracy's book blog, Pen and Paper, about a novel with "simple yet powerful language" that's "incredibly rich in human emotions", Brahmahatya by Rajiv Mittal, published in 2017.  Like Tracy, I'm not familiar with Hindu scripture or mythology (I studied Hinduism only briefly in high school), but the book sounds fascinating to me.  Author Rajiv Mittal graciously sent me a copy of his novel, which I hope to read and review before too long.  The author also wrote an exclusive guest post for this blog.  Like me, I think you'll find it strong and compelling.

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Why Do I Write?

A Guest Post by Rajiv Mittal

 

You asked me if I would like to write a guest post.

The first thought that came to my mind is, ‘Why do I write?’

So why do I write?

First of all, a random rant …

Because there are six billion humans in this planet. I cannot handle that number. A novel is a universe which usually contains a manageable population and the main ones are generally interesting.

If I switch on the TV or surf the internet, I read about how mankind is destroying the planet. And the more dramatic of such portrayals show heart-rending photographs of children in great distress. Where on earth are the parents of these children? What made them produce children if they could not offer them lives better than their own? When I write, I feel happy that I am not under pressure to feel outraged at everyone other than the real criminals.

And they are?

‘Produce more children for our vote banks,’ continue to exhort our political people. ‘Consume more,’ continue to exhort our corporate people. The real world now seems to be held to ransom by people with maniacal eyes hysterically expostulating the beauty of their religions. It seems most of these people have spent a great deal of time and effort trying to look ugly. They have succeeded spectacularly. I don’t want to see them, hear them or argue with them. I smell decay and their touch is not healing. What do they do to earn a living? What were their grades in school and college? What qualifies them to be the prophets? Just ugliness, it seems.

What makes for a good story? I am told it is the following:

Theme. A theme is something important the story tries to tell us—something that might help us in our own lives. ...

Plot. Plot is most often about a conflict or struggle that the main character goes through. ...

Story Structure. ...

Characters. ...

Setting. ...

Style and Tone.

The real life story is the worship of fecund reproductive organs and its ending worries me, it is not something that interests me.  Books are the triumphant outcome of the uncontrolled mind.

That is why I prefer to write. I am in control of my universe.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

How Brahmahatya happened:

I would visit my father in his retirement home during his final days. Seeing all the residents, I would wonder – what are their stories? And are they all really who they say they are. Also, spending time at a retirement home made me question a lot of things about life. And the story evolved.

Strange to say, but once I started writing it, the book took on a life of its own. It sounds clichéd but it is a fact. It was almost as if the book got its own aatma (soul) and I became another character in its life journey – the character of the author.

A personal experience related to the book: 

There was time to spare and the tuktuk was chugging past the Theosophical Society en-route to Phoenix Mall in Chennai. I had a suspicion it had no business being there but the tuktuk driver was canny and I was clueless. On an impulse, I asked him to stop near the gate and paid him off.

I had last gone inside the Society gate with my dad. He had wanted to show me some banyan tree - one of the largest in Asia. I was seven years old and I was very happy to be alone with him even though it was only to see some stupid tree. I remember I had then been very scared of it (it was a huge presence with strange limbs). I wanted to see it again now, no... I wanted to relive the memories. I recall (now as an adult) that it was massive, majestic in its silence and even the forces of nature (the waning twilight rays, the gentle sea-breeze and the noisy birds) had fluttered nervously around it, as if seeking permission.

My steps quickened as I reached it. The signboard said, ‘The Great Banyan Tree.’ I looked around, puzzled. A lone security guard walked up to me and said, ‘Sir, the tree fell down in a cyclone many years ago.’ I stared at the vast green space in the center where it had stood, quite uncomprehendingly. I felt very angry. This was very wrong. The tree had no right to die. It was meant to be eternal.

I again looked at the emptiness where the tree had lived. The younger trees, its descendants, stand proud and tall, seeming to preserve and protect the bare space.

When I walked away, I again felt the presence of my dad, very frail in his final days but very strong in my memories.

Some words that echo the philosophy of the book:

        •   Whomsoever you encounter is the right one.
        •   Whatever happened is the only thing that could have happened.
        •   Each moment in which something begins is the right moment.
        •   What is over is over.

                      Author – Unknown


The quiet, unhindered steady chant that treads through the book:

“Brahmanda bhramite kona bhagyavan jiva. According to their karma, all living entities are wandering throughout the entire universe…”

 I hope Brahmahatya will form part of your life journey, however small. Thathasthu. (It will be so).

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"Books are the triumphant outcome of the uncontrolled mind"!  I relish the idea of making order and art out of disorder and chaos.  Your personal story about the Great Banyan tree is very powerful and touching.  Thank you, Rajiv, for sharing your thoughts about writing, and more, in this outstanding guest post.  I am truly looking forward to reading your book.

Your comments are welcomed, as usual. Thanks for reading!