A book by its Cover | Book Shelf

We've always been taught to not judge a book by its cover. And, in this day and age when our eyes are trained to skim the glossy jackets and cleverly used phrases like 'best seller', we seldom succumb to the tactics of a reputed publishing house. Sheeba Shivangi Shah's second book, Beyond the Illusions, published by Pilgrims Book House begs to differ. It actually wants the readers to judge the book right from the start by deciphering its abstract cover, based on the original painting, "The Bhairav."

The prologue begins with the capital is caught up in the quake of revolution and in the midst of all its terrors and tremors, the persona reluctantly leaves Kathmandu to visit a renowned swami at Badrinath, only to find him rubbing against the statue of the goddess Kali. This repulsive scene of the holy man in such a blasphemous act gives a whiff of the scandalous, succulent story to come, introducing us to Bhairavi.

The book revolves around Bhairavi, who marries early into a wealthy conservative family where her every move and mood is supposed to compliment the prestige of the family. And she does so, with her Cartier watches and designer saris. Her ten year marriage to Jayant Dhodi has fizzled and the romance that once inflamed them as a couple doesn't burn anymore. She can't make head or tail of her husband's new found enthusiasm for yoga and the carnal pleasures, until he disappears without a word. Bhairavi goes in search of Jayant to an ashram at Rishikesh, where she gets sucked into the conflux of religion and social dogmas. She begins to dissect her own faith in god, her fidelity towards her husband and the deep seething guilt welling up inside.

Through Bhairavi's awakening of her inner goddess, Sheeba tells us about the division of the sexes as a parallel source of creation and the art of love which balances the union of bliss. Just in the first quarter of the book one can notice the amount of research the author has done in Tantrism and how she interestingly incorporates the knowledge into her story.

Although the story streams out into rivulets of religion, the various incarnations of goddess Kali and the topsy-turvy turfs of tantra, it never ebbs way from the emancipation of Bhairavi. The author's use of language is refreshing and descriptive, laced wonderfully with humour. Sometime it feels as though the reader is eavesdropping on a girly conversation about sex, like the expression 'hairy hole against a hairy pole' making convent girls blush and giggle. Over all her use of words stimulates the senses which become alert not only at the mention of sex but spices and fragrances.

So if you do look into the cover of the book, you'll find that the spiral ends in a dot the 'mahabindu' and the Bhairav becomes animated and alive. So by all means, please do judge this book by its cover.