Broken things are precious too
There is something poetic and philosophical about the Japanese concept of kintsugi that goes beyond art and functionality. The sentiment that being broken or vulnerable need not be seen as a flaw; that if the fragments of a bowl can be fused with lacquer mixed with powdered precious metals, broken people too can be healed. A newness emerges through that restoration. It is the kindness of strangers, or love in unforeseen places that helps to heal. Anukrti Upadhyay’s newest book, Kintsugi seems to delineate this thought, as it beautifully binds six lives through serendipitous encounters. People connect deeply, disengage, break away, and at times, find each other again or re-form in unexpected places. The lives in the novel are set in places far removed from each other in geography, culture and thought and the narrative straddles Jaipur, Tokyo, Kyoto, Singapore and Borneo. These are places that the author has known well, and her love for them shines through.
Kintsugi takes us into the dim interiors of the extraordinary world of the jewellery makers of Jaipur. Deep within the havelis and the gaddis of Johri Bazaar, Haruko, a young American girl of Japanese-korean origin, finds herself eagerly learning the intricacies of meenakari enamel work, and jewellery-crafting. She is granted entry into this allmale domain as an apprentice to Madanji, one of the prominent sunars of the market, only due to her foreignness. The same milieu, rife with patriarchal notions, is unwelcoming of Leela, the young daughter of Munnaji, a fine kundansaaz and one of Haruko’s mentors. Her part and place in the sun, comes later in the narrative. Meanwhile, Haruko’s section is rich with descriptions of the art; her project piece is a hansuli, “a hollow lac-filled collar necklace decorated with enameland-stone work”, and on the fly she starts work on a sheeshphool, a hair ornament. She forms a bond with Leela, whom she teaches to sketch jewellery, and becomes friends with Prakash, the doctor who treats her fractured leg. Her story and Leela’s is also a glimpse into a society where gender, class and caste divides are glaringly present.
Meena’s first person account, that of a young student on a research scholarship in Japan, begins where Haruko’s initial story seems to end. Upadhyay effortlessly switches from the heat and dust of Rajasthan to the pristine hilly landscape of Hakone, awash with sensorial experience; “exquisite mountain breeze laden with green fragrances”, sake bars amidst ancient pines along the lake with the blue and white of Mount Fuji in the background, and onsens that offer cold night dips in mineral-rich hot water where shared confidences lead to frisson-laden intimacies among friends. It is the kind of love that is seen as a disgrace by families steeped in tradition in far away Jaipur. But then Meenachan has always been rebellious, following her heart and conviction, incomprehensible to the people back home, but unconditionally loved by her Japanese lovers, first Yuri, and then Hajime. Upadhyay is at ease painting atmospheric sketches of Japan -- the universities of Tokyo and Kyoto, the various orange and red shrines, the cultural nuances, culinary detailing, the cherry blossom time of the year: “The Zen gardens and tree-lined walks of Tenryuji were filled with golden April light”.
The writing has restraint, poise and an understated charm with no room for superfluity. A successful author in both Hindi and English, Upadhyay treats her themes with equanimity and grace and love, loss, heartbreak, death and renewal play out in her nuanced writing. There is also the differentness of cultures that gently collide
and at times coalesce to build bridges, and the question of identity or belonging. Hajime and Haruko remain outsiders due to their Americanness while Meena embraces a whole new culture rejecting her own, for the sake of love.
Kintsugi is a little gem. Haruko sums up the soul of the tale beautifully when she explains
the concept of kintsugi to Leela: “Not all pieces are meant to hold water, some are for allowing water to seep away. Broken things are precious too.” Just like the making and unmaking of jewellery or relationships.