Interpreter of Maladies

It’s been long since I last read a book. I came across the “interpreter of maladies” in the most haphazard way that could be. I liked the cover and decided I’d buy it. But yet it remained on my desk for months, as if naturally a part of ‘my things’. I never felt the urge to read it either. It was there, it looked nice amongst pages of my scribblings and that was fine with me. I only took up the book a few days ago but wouldn’t read more than a few pages and each time I had to start over again. To resume reading, after so long, is hard. It feels so ‘un-natural’.. but once you’re in, you’d sweetly allow yourself to be swept into a cuddly world of people and their stories, like a mesmerised kid dociled by candy..

Jhumpa has a wonderful style of narration. Her words are simple, as if talking to a child. As an emerging contemporary writer of Indian (Bengali, actually) descent, Jhumpa has this spicy style, mixing stern western culture with eastern irony and innocent gossip. She depicts tones of grey from the usual black & white way of presenting things. Her first collection of short stories is a masterpiece, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2000. Jhumpa Lahiri reminds me of Arundhati Roy, author of yet another gem, The God of Small Things, which i equally loved. But the ‘interpreter of maladies’ fosters stories blessed with more subtle nuances, like prose sung to the ear, like a sweet smell drifting in an autumn breeze, like the sour note that uplifts the sweet flavour in an oriental dish.

I wish i could write like her,… simply and beautifully..