KUMAON BLUES
SET ONCE AGAIN IN HER BELOVED MOUNTAINS, NAMITA GOKHALE’S LATEST NOVEL NEVER NEVER LAND IS AN ELEGIAC AND REFLECTIVE WORK
RRetreating into the mountains has always been an idealised form of escape. Vertical terrain and panoramic vistas o er a secluded sanctuary, far above the dust and heat of the plains. Namita Gokhale, whose family roots lie in the foothills of Kumaon, has explored this territory in other novels, including her Sahitya Akademi awardwinning Things to Leave Behind. Gokhale’s latest work of fiction, Never Never Land, returns to the highlands once again but with an elegiac ambivalence that evokes a strange feeling of sadness and dismay, even as it lingers nostalgically on the natural beauty and remote charms of forested ridgelines and deep valleys.
Ita Arya, the narrator, is an editor and aspiring novelist who abandons the digitised, concrete wasteof land of Gurgaon for the verdant foothills of Kumaon. Seeking refuge from a general sense of discontentment in her life, Ita wants to spend time with her maternal grandmother, Badi Amma (also called Lily), who lives with another elderly widow, Rosinka, in a hilltop house known as “The Dacha”. Years ago, Badi Amma, whose village lies nearby, worked for Rosinka as her housemaid. Now that both women are over 90, Lily is more of a companion than an employee, though she remains a subservient presence. Rosinka, on the other hand, is an exotic, flamboyant bird who migrated here from Russia, sometime in the indeterminate past. Because of their age and resilience, these two women are known as “the immortals”. Ita is fond them both, though she approaches her elders with some caution and uncertainty. On the first day, when she arrives at the Dacha, Ita also discovers another resident, a young, blonde-haired girl named Nina, who claims to be Badi Amma’s granddaughter too. The shared memories, a ections and tensions between these four women animate the novel, while the monsoon closes in with torrential storms, dense mist and relentless rain.
Though much of the narrative is reflective and internal, seen through Ita’s observant eyes, the book contains several dramatic moments. The theft of two valuable paintings by Nicholas Roerich, a Russian emigree artist whose work explored the spiritual geography of the
Himalaya, disturbs the quiet ambience of the Dacha. The precious canvases have been slashed from their frames. Meanwhile, the monsoon batters the mountains with thunder, lightning and fierce downpours that trigger catastrophic landslides on the unstable slopes. There is also a violent incident involving a boiling pot of nettle soup.
A slender novel that leaves as much to the reader’s imagination as it reveals on the page, Never Never Land is a haunting story of love, loss and loneliness. Told in simple, often moving, prose, this book captures the enigmatic moods and mysteries of the mountains.
Stephen Alter lives and writes in Mussoorie. His most recent book is The Cobra’s Gaze: Exploring India’s Wild Heritage