Melange of lives | Book Shelf

Some artists like Salvador Dali, Picasso have their ingenuity and talent recognised instantly. But then there are artists like Van Gogh, who spent a lifetime toiling away for a little recognition and virtually no money. Most critics of his era took one glance at his art and wrote it off completely. Those who didn't just stood back, pondered his work and for a good long while, didn't know what to make of his strange creations. Although Van Gogh enjoyed little recognition during his lifetime, his post-mortem impact on the world of art is indisputable.

Just like artists, many writers suffer the same fate. Misunderstood, under-celebrated, unrecognised and written off. As I read his debut novel, No God in Sight, Altaf Tyrewala I felt like an admirer of art standing in the presence of an undiscovered The Starry Night (the famous painting of Gogh), baffled as if to whether it was pure genius or utter nonsense.

One thing's for sure, Tyrewala has the highest number of characters to length ratio of any book I have ever read in my life. Each chapter in the voice of a different character, the book manages to give the perspective of more than thirty different narrators in just 171 pages. Tyrewala's story jumps from Mrs Kuvaja, a poet silenced by life to Minaz to a woman on the verge of an abortion to a man who sells paan to suffering men to a gangster who loves to shoot people to Avantika to, an overweight woman in love. The story comes full circle by awarding Kasim, the lover who impregnated Minaz, the final, devastating voice.

Reading the train of stories from an intense number of characters was almost like watching a row of standing dominos come crashing down, one into the other. Albeit slightly intriguing, the first 40 pages leaves the reader not quite sure what the point or the outcome might be. Amidst this initial confusion and moments of certainty that the sole purpose of this book was to make a small bonfire in my back yard, there was only one thing that kept me reading: Tyrewala's powerful prose that continually hooked me when least expected. His narrators threw out one-liners worth contemplating over for hours. His quotable characters are simply profound. After the first fourth of the book, just like Picasso's skeptical critics, many will read in anticipation that the book will either be terribly wonderful or a derailed disaster.

The brevity of the book only allots most characters mere five or six pages of narration. Long enough to just start to feel comfortable with the characters, but not long enough to truly know them. His style has an almost tantalising effect that somehow simultaneously causes annoyance and curiosity to the reader.

As I closed the book on the first read, I was speechless. Not a good kind of speechless, but not a bad one either. It was the speechlessness of confusion. Did I hate this book or did I love it? I had no idea. I needed time to digest it all, to take it in for what it was. I needed to go through the book a second time to decide, but once I did, I became convinced – No God in Sight is Tyrewala's Starry Night waiting to be discovered.