A paean to an immortal city
Tis the first in a quartet of novels set against 800 years of Delhi’s history. Starting with the fall of Prithviraj Chauhan at the hands of Muhammad of Ghur, the novel spans 200 years of Delhi as it chronicles the lives of the families of two stone carvers, Sridhar Sahu and Madhav. Their descendants, much like orphaned children, are passed down from one ruling family to another as they try to please their changing masters.
The novel’s tone is set at the beginning, when an orphaned Madhav escapes his burning village in a bullock cart amid an invasion. The author’s deft and economical prose moves the novel quickly from tragedy to philosophy and wisdom. A tender Balram gently schools Madhav in life using the folklore and myths upon which the city of Delhi is built.
The power of stories, especially about history, as an escape from the unbearable realities of the present is a recurring motif. Author Madhulika Liddle’s characters use storytelling as a tool for healing. We see this between Balram and Madhav, and also between Shagufta, the novel’s plucky young narrator, and Nasiruddin, the recuperating soldier.
As Delhi changes hands between the Ghurids, the Khaljis, and the Tughlaqs, the author zooms in on the lives of its poorest subjects, those least interested in who sits on the throne, until their lives and those of their overlords intersect. These intersection points are the heart of the novel and it is where Liddle’s characters truly come into their own. It is also where she uses the sweeping hand of fate to great effect, with spontaneous incidents having devastating consequences for the characters.
A successful blurring of history and fiction makes this novel memorable. Politics, religion, caste, faith,
God and love all feature. It is a treat to witness another character Girdhar’s evolution as he questions his father’s religious dogmas and rejects impositions, learning to think for himself. In this, he is ably guided by poet Amir Khusro and the Sufi saint Nizamuddin Auliya. The Garden of Heaven is a timely reminder of Delhi’s secular history, and of the temple sculptors who worked on mosques, forts and mausoleums, turning them into works of beauty.
The city’s history and art supersede religious divides, the way they always have. The novel’s ending suggests that there is more that binds people than separates them; that a few good people can make a difference. Throughout, Liddle brings in trivia about sculpting; the Persian tile maker’s comments about Jama Masjid are especially captivating. She delves into the building of stone arches, provides details on how to choose the right tools, and shows the toll that stone carving takes on the hands.
The transitions between the past and present, however, are confusing. The reader also needs to keep going back to the family tree at the beginning of the book to keep track of characters and bloodlines, which is wearying. Still, the quick pace keeps you engrossed. The city of Delhi is a silent spectator, keeping a quiet record in stone as houses fall and rise.
The novel excels at interpreting all this while providing a detailed look at the lives of those who built the city and live in it. The Garden of Heaven manages to capture the effervescence of youth, the strife of adulthood, and the wisdom of old age set against a city always in motion. This book is a paean to an immortal city and it is a promising start to the quartet.