Memories of Fire - Ashok Chopra

This is not my first encounter with a book written by a journalist, and it reaffirms my belief that they are have a class of their own (at least the one I have read so far). This book, picked up by Amma from a book fair normally wouldn't have caught my eyes otherwise. My greatest realization after finishing the book was that Compelling my self to read this book did so much good to me.

A book surfing through Indian and Pakistani politics spanning through the times after partition; during the time before, of and after the emergency; discussing the terrains of Hindu Sikh relations of unity and later aggression; all through the eyes of 5 friends, one among which is a Pakistani. The book interweaves reality and fiction so smoothly that the line almost does not exist at all.

 

What I liked

-            The letters between these friends after years of separation, solitude, at different stages of their life – letters carrying personal as well as intellectual tidings that are a unique set of its own.

-            Vijay’s (one among the five who scores the least and is not as “bright in grades” compared to the rest) character sketch – “Fortunately even in the face of his friends clarity on their ambitions and his own lack of it, his temperament was such that his disappointment and regret was short-lived and after each bout of soul searching, he would spring back to his usual cheerful lovable self.”

-            “How right was Henrik Ibsen, the nineteenth century Norwegian playwright in saying that ‘Talent is not just a possession, it is a responsibility’”

-            How Radhe Shyam consoles his beloved Aneez when the thunder lilies she plucked and kept in a tumbler dropped within a couple of hours – A : “What did I do wrong? Maybe I didn’t pluck them the right way. Perhaps the tumbler is not deep enough to sustain them” Radhe Shyam took her in his arms to console her “No Aneez, they are the creatures of the wild and they do not thrive in domesticity. One must enjoy them where they are and never try to possess them. They do not and cannot belong to anyone”.

-            Pakistani poet Ahmed Faraz’s poem translated:

“The sun and moon are in the benign hands of God,

And yet not even a glow worm

Reached the dark homes of the poor”

-            “Those who write, paint or compose don’t so for a particular community. They are a community in themselves. They belong to the whole world”.

 

Personally, my knowledge expanse widened a little by the contributions from this book and associated readings. Also the repeated reference to the world class novel ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ in the letters between Radhe Shyam and his friends stroked the curiosity of the reader inside me which in turn lead to my completing Gabriel Garcia’s all-time hit; that’s another review for another day 😊.

The letters between Radhe Shyam and his friends discussing politics, life, philosophy, books and what not inspired me to create a similar work in my native language Malayalam. Thus this books stands very close to my heart with numerous connections that I could adapt to my own life and hence the reason I give it a 5-star rating.