I was reluctant to pick it up, gifted by a friend (who made me pay for it!), my first instinct was to avoid the book. Well lesson well learnt “Trust your instincts. They know better than you do”.
It is a lengthy book, I have nothing against lengthy books, my favorite book is “The Suitable Boy” which is as lengthy as it comes. What I have a problem with is long- winding, boring and insipid books. Unfortunately Shantaram fits each one of these descriptions perfectly.
The book is about a fugitive from Australia, escaping into oblivion into the chaos that is Bombay and India. Unfortunately not only does the plot sound trite, the trajectory it follows in the never ending 945 pages is as predictable and boring as it can get. He loves India (of course he does, it allows him to get lost and get loaded), lives in a slum, plays the firang messiah to sick children and gets involved with the underworld. Till this point the book reminds you of a Bollywood blockbuster complete with its clichés and melodrama, the protagonist a tall, white, handsome, not so young man. In between all of this he also manages to make enemies and swears bloody revenge. This is when it starts imitating the oft maligned K serials on the telly. There is misunderstanding, miscommunication and the chaos that follows is what the plot thrives on. Actually it will be unfair to say that the plot thrives in any manner whatsoever. There is an Afgan war thrown in between to breathe in a change of setting, making the book even more tiresome if possible. As he struggles through the difficult terrain, you pity his naivety and wonder why he trusts a man who so obviously is the perpetrator of the crime against him. But like all K sagas, logic and coherence are abandoned early on, however unlike the K saga viewers I could not find the heart to forgive that and like the book. Like K sagas, you can skip a few (or many) pages and the story will be still at a stand still. Despite being the most die hard Bombay fan that I am, the long evenings at Leopalds and his jaunts across South Bombay could not warm my heart.
However what makes this book utterly aggravating is Karla, the woman that Shantaram falls in love with. Danille Steele like descriptors of her beauty are annoying and Shantaram’s fascination for her is juvenile. The cherry on the cake, her pearls of wisdom (in 3rd person) which go like.. when the world around you is collapsing, run under an umbrella or something as lame as that. Whenever Shantaram has nothing clever to say (which is very often), he breaks into a Karlaism, gyan about the world in 3rd person. Those of you who have ever watched a K saga, will be familiar with this modus operandi, only on the telly the gyan is accompanied by literally a sad (what was meant to be soulful) soundtrack.
Will keep this review extremely, extremely short because somewhere the law of averages has to apply, someone has to compensate for the over abuse of words and papes and time that this book has under taken. Aha moment, somewhere along the 50th page when I knew the book was completely worthless. But seriously, there is this one sentence where a slum dweller tells Shantaram, that the reason that India survives, thrives despite all the chaos, limitations, dearths, differences was Love. Love makes this country go round. I had to agree, (its totally not worth leafing through the tome to find the exact words).
P.S: Jhonny Depp, good call, don’t touch this one with a barge poll. Will have to stop loving you.
P.P.S: Don’t judge me, have only ever seen a few episode of the K sagas, but that is enough to get the drift
