NOT JUST A LOVE STORY
A book about an epic journey for love manages to fall into the orientalist trap
The true account of a 24-year-old sketch artist from a poor family belonging to the lowest caste in India falling in love with a 20-year-old tourist from Sweden who is part nobility is one way to describe The Amazing Story of the man who cycled from India to Europe for Love.
But, to say that this book is simply a heartwarming, charming love story would be a great disservice to the novel. This isn’t just a book about an impossible romance. It is a chronicle of the Indian caste system, of a Dalit’s life and psyche, and of upperclass Indians’ closed mentality towards ‘untouchables’. This is a story about overcoming gargantuan obstacles through the power of unwavering optimism and faith.
Written by Swedish journalist Per J Andersson and translated into English by Anna Holmwood, the book tells the story of Jagat Ananda Pradyumna Kumar Mahanandia, or PK. Born in a small village in Orissa, PK grew up deeply aware of caste as it affected his daily life. With a talent for and an interest in art, PK moves to New Delhi to study the subject. He falls for Puni, an upper-middle-class girl, who pursues him. But that love story is abruptly halted in its tracks when the girl’s family discovers that he is Dalit. That portion of the book is filled with crisp, sharp prose that could very well be a telling of present-day Delhi society’s prejudices. After he’s rejected by Puni, PK wallows in the pain of rejection for sometime before resuming his work as a portrait artist in Delhi’s Connaught Place. His work is featured in several newspapers including The Statesman.
It is in CP that PK meets his ‘destiny’: a Swedish woman named Lotta who, rather charmingly, likens him to a darker version of Jimi Hendrix. A quiet romance ensues, and eventually PK begins his journey towards Sweden to be with her.
The book has been positioned as a memoir and travelogue, but it is more. It is an account of the hippie route from India, through Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and Europe seen through fresh eyes by a delightfully optimistic and astute character. PK’s observations of Afghanistan and Iran are incisive: an encounter with an Afghan woman who is part of a polygamous marriage and his relentless questioning of her — “How do you feel when you have to share him with other women” coupled with the observation that she seemed “brainwashed” to him make for compelling reading. PK is not judgmental; he observes, accepts, learns and does not moralise. This is refreshing.
His reunion with Lotta in Sweden and the brief portions of the book dedicated to his life in the foreign land with his beloved are not as fleshed out as one would have liked. But, then this is a novel about the journey and not the destination. It is enough to know that after a four-month long journey spanning over 11,000km, on May 28, a tired and rather ripe PK found Lotta waiting for him in her hometown Boras, and cared nothing for anything except the fact that they were finally reunited. Despite being a heartwarming read, the book does suffer from several shortcomings. The prose is sparse and the author’s attempts at metaphors fall short.
The novel’s orientalism is glaringly offensive at times. Often, The Man Who… reads like a retelling of an Indian story seen through a Caucasian eyes. Phrases that have been used to death (and yet refuse to die in Western tellings of India) are littered throughout. Parts of the book are set in Chandni Chowk — a place of countless smells, sights, and food. But, it is described only by the smell of jasmine and patchouli! Then there’s a line somewhere describing the book as ‘Slumdog Millionare, but true.’ This is deeply offensive as the difference between the characters in Slumdog and PK are stark, both culturally and socio-economically. These nuances have been lost in the Westernised telling of India that drowns out the interesting portions of this novel. The women characters in the novel are two-dimensional at best. A deeper look into the women would have made for a richer story. Overall, this is feel-good book; easily devoured within a day or two. Yet, it leaves the bibliophile wishing for some depth for there are ravines here that remain unexplored.