The Red Carpet is a collection of eight short stories by Lavanya Sankaran, — first time writer, born in India, studied in America, returned to India.
The stories are more vignettes than conventional tales, vignettes centered around Bangalore and its high rollers — nouveau riche young men and women rolling in software money,rolling the occasional joint (and yes, the occasional roll in the hay, still seemingly rare) and generally living in a parallel universe removed from the rest of the populace. People that regularly spend more on a single meal than most of the people in the country make per month; Diesel wearing, Coach toting, Ray Ban peering folks walking around in the same city as people who cannot afford a saree a year. (Yes, I know about the trickle down effect, and am glad that the number of people that can afford such luxuries is growing and that more spending is good, but it still makes me feel queasy.)
In her eight stories, Sankaran tries to cover the entire spectrum of people that populate her universe — the smart geeks and the slick marketers, the timid wimps that do all the work and the aggressive unwimps that take credit for it, the self made and the daddy made; migrants to America, migrants from America and the parents of all these people (to provide a cross generational perspective), most of whom have a single purpose in life (or so it seems): to get their son or daughter married off as soon as possible.
Ramu studied the animated woman in front of him, a slight smile on his lips. And apart from the minor variances: his gender, darker skin color, the carefully trimmed goatee resting on his chin, and the worrisome hairline that danced away from his forehead in the coy manner that plagued so many men in their early thirties, it was practically a Mona Lisa smile — full of mystery and hidden amusement.
After this uncertain, stilted start to ‘Bombay This’, the first story in the collection about a superficial-at-first-glance, but-actually-quite-deep girl from Bombay, a few techies and (yes) marriage, the stories steadily get better until the Red Carpet, and then they seem to get worse. Either that or ennui — it is different versions of the same people, and if you look closely enough, it is the same story repeated over and over again. And the author comes across as a little talkative: choosing to vividly describe things when hints would’ve done the job, probably part of trying to cater to a wide (phoreen) audience.
When Lavanya lets her guard down enough to throw in a few inside jokes, the book can be quite funny, like this exchange from the Alphabet Soup, an otherwise contrived tale about an America reared girl (with a slight persecution complex) who wants to explore the “strength” of being “Brown in a Brown country.”
Mr. Iyer liked to sit on the verandah, on a swing made from a sturdy plank of rosewood, leaving his wife to bustle about the house and occasionally steop out with tumblers of piping hot coffee. He himself was retired, and spent his days reading his newspapers in a skirt.
‘Not a skirt,’ he said, pained when Priya first phrased her careful inquiry. ‘Not a skirt at all. It is a veshti. A lungi, a dhoti. Men’s wear. Just like suitings, shirtings, and cuff links. But,’ he said, ‘more comfortable for the heat.’
Oh, a sarong,’ said Priya.
‘No,’ said Mr. Iyer. ‘A veshti.’
Mostly though, the guard is up, and the book suffers for it.
The book does offer some interesting insights, especially when narrated from an outsider’s perspective: The title story — Red Carpet, narrated by a chauffeur, and to a lesser extent, Closed Curtain — told by an old man with a window (literally) into the life of a hep, very today young couple are the most interesting tales in the book.
But in these as well as most of the other tales, the endings seem contrived and abrupt, loose ends tied up a little too well, or a careful, deliberate attempt made to leave some ends dangling. Almost like realizing on the last page that the story had to end here.
Rather refreshingly for a first time Indian writer, Lavanya chooses to write in plain English: simple and unadorned, no linguistic flourishes from the Salman Rushdie school, thank you. That and her obvious familiarity with her milieu help make the book a passable read.
10 Responses to “No Magic Carpet, this”
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Heard about this person somewhere before.
I think she has been published in the Atlantic Monthly.
Extremely interesting the milieu she writes about> I am a stranger to it myself having left 10 years ago.
The ‘skirt’ bit is really annoying .….….
No one in today’s world is as ignorant as all that.……
Actually, I found the skirt bit quite funny. Perhaps the context of the book might help — the girl was portrayed as one of those slightly loony, leftie types that roam college campuses — smart, yet unaware of the ways of the real world.
And to be honest, I was taken aback by the things some of the people in the book do — I went through the same life cycle — engineering — US Masters — Work here, but things seems to have changed a lot!
“People that regularly spend more on a single meal than most of the people in the country make per month; Diesel wearing, Coach toting, Ray Ban peering folks walking around in the same city as people who cannot afford a saree a year”
I’ve noticed this phenom in a lot of countries, including the USA, and I’ve discovered it in history with each book I read that was written before our time. Not to say that Indians are philosophically above all others, but one would think (or, at the least, I do) that we are a more tempered lot and are less materialistic than the average western bear. Even as my parents made money in the Gulf, their biggest concern was not to let it go to our heads. Now, parents don’t seem to care any more. When did the “humility disconnect” happen?
A part of me argues the opposite as well: Why can’t India host a super-rich population that has every luxury available to the western world? It’s about time we were recognized as such.
The problem really is the corruption and Indian political system. People getting richer in India is not so rosy when the gap between them and the poor grows as well.
Maitri — I feel confused too — my wife and I make a decent amount of money these days to be able to spend well, but (not to be corny) I cringe when I come out of a fancy restaurant and look at the guy that drove us there: “Wonder if he knows how much we spent.” It is going to take a while for us to get used to flaunting wealth without feeling guilty about it.
Free market economics says that wealth will eventually start trickling down, so I guess we should keep spending a lot and hope the gap will grow narrower …
Thanks for stopping by…
Read the book — loved it. Some stories more than others. Got all psenti and called my mom after reading about the aaraku nine-yards sari.
Did not feel guilty or anything because like the young May-dum people have changed. I don’t think they are so blind (like our parent’s generation) to what is going on around them who did not know and did not care about others.
Of course that is still with the realm of mai-baap I know but it is maybe one step away from social change.
Thanks for writing about it.
Glad you liked it. Maybe you should write an alternate perspective review
Indian English writing seems to be on a roll now — Odyssey in Adyar has almost as many books in its “Indian Writing” section as it does in “Fiction.”
Never been to that bookstore. Nah I have no alternative perspective. it is worth reading.
Karthik — checkout the Hindu review of the book. very harsh!
Yes,some people don’t earn enought o buy one sari a year. That’s the only India that those foriegn tourist(so ur dad’s a snake charmer) types know about. Lavanya captures the pulse of Bangalore very well, I think; the conflict between modernity and tradition. In today’s world the question of identity is very vague and in Sankaran’s book i could see a bit of the bangalore girl in me.
Yamini, where did that come from? I never said that’s the only India, just said that is probably a big chunk of India. So I mention it and suddenly I become a foreign tourist, eh? (Although, the my dad as a snake charmer imagery was pretty funny: I wonder how my mom would’ve reacted if he had brought a couple of snakes home every night.)
And no, I was not trying to question the milieu Lavanya chose for her book either — you pick the environment you are most comfortable with.
I just thought the book wasn’t all that good. If you enjoyed it, good for you.