A twisted tale of revenge

An ordinary man becomes an integral part of something magical and life-affirming
A twisted tale of revenge

Son of the Thundercloud by Easterine Kire—poet, novelist, short story writer and writer of children’s books—is that rarest and most incredible of literary gems in that it is something that you will want to secrete in a secret vault so that it may be safely retrieved whenever the heart needs warming or when hope has become scarce. It is that much of a treasure. To say that Easterine Kire, winner of the Hindu Literary Prize (2015), writes like a dream is an understatement. She has the unique ability to connect with her readers at a profound level, most of them might not even know they possessed.

As far as the plot goes, it is hardly complicated—the book is the tale of a man who loses everything and in the course of his travels briefly becomes an integral part of something magical and life-affirming, rediscovering the things he had believed were gone past recapture. At the end of it all, he finds himself exactly where he started, except this time around he is blessed with the knowledge that all the hate, injustice and senseless brutality in the world can be borne as long as there is love, compassion and hope which are the only things that are truly eternal. The prologue tells the tale of a mystical Naga legend, the saddest woman alive who has lost her husband and seven sons to a tiger. Many years later, a raindrop falls on her and she becomes pregnant and a boy is born. Her happiness is restored and the boy grows up to avenge his father and brothers. The reader as well as the unknown listener to this fable are informed that it all happened a long time ago and will happen again. It is intriguing stuff and from there on, it just keeps getting better.

Four-hundred-year-old sisters who have subsisted on nothing but hop

e, allow an intrepid traveller to stay with them and he feels the stars move eastward, pulling the earth with them, changing the topography as per the needs of the land as well as the life it sustains. The sisters instruct him and probably the reader as well, to, “Feel it, just feel it for now.” It is sage advice for thinking and analysis will only detract from the sublime experience that facilitates an encounter with the miracle of life and the tragedy of death, redemption and damnation in an unending cycle.

At a brisk 150 pages, the book can be savoured in a single sitting. The language is simple, yet there is a strange power—a bizarre and almost hypnotic pull in every word. It is probably the reason my eyes kept filling up to overflowing irrespective of whether a given portion made me happy or sad.

Cynical readers may be tempted to roll their eyes at this sort of thing, which tends to get dismissed as superficial literary bait on the part of the author or a critical juncture in the menstrual cycle of the reviewer who saw fit to gush at length about it, but the truth is Kire’s work is poignantly, heartbreakingly honest down to the last letter. It is refreshingly unpretentious, which makes it all the more effective and definitely worth a read.

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