'Requiem for a Soldier' book review: A coming-of-age reckoning, passing through many a parathesis
In current passing show of modern Indian writing, three tropes of history stand out: feudalism, the Raj and heroism seeking validation. Requiem for a Soldier by Abhishek Amal Sanyal fits the bill. About four million Indian soldiers fought for the British Empire in two World Wars; this book is a tribute to India’s discovery of itself—personified by Kumar Ganguly, privileged son of a zamindar in colonial Bengal—an era of cultural pride, combined with wealth and style that tries to adjust to change, and fails. And in the end, is redeemed by humanity.
Kumar’s father, Zamindar Ganguly who shares a doha daily with his son; the beauteous Mahua, “a vision without blemishes”; journalist Subhendu—he and Mahua went to Cambridge as all Bengali brown sahibs and sahibas of the day did—the red haired Daley Flanegan who Kumar befriends and partakes of meat with for the first time; the bigoted Captain Higgin-Bothams and the evil collaborator Paros, who brutalises Mahua, are all characters navigating cultural turmoil, rebellion, conflicting individuality and compassion.
Kumar typifies the early 20th century Indian who changes the notion of convention through conscience. But, he is still a slave to tradition, and a bit of a coward who doesn’t wish to intervene: it is Papon who faces the brunt of the zamindar’s fury while questioning sati.
The story adopts the imagery of contrast; whether through cultural frames or a change in the personality of a character affected by life-changing events.
The transformation of the Kumar of idyllic Bengal to the wounded soldier who returns from front is vastly different. Innocence is lost; both his and that of others loved and hated, and wisdom replaces optimism. It is the initial loss of Mahua that wounds Kumar while the love of Mary and his rejection is traumatic—“an unrequited love waiting for closure.
A declared love waiting for acceptance.” The novel is a coming-of-age reckoning, passing through many a parathesis: the feudal grandeur of colonial Bengal, the misery of Socortan natives, the courage of the guerilla group Anushilan Samiti.
Sanyal, who attempts a grand sweep through history, could have done without some cliches; descriptions of Durga Puja and lofty thoughts “the adults may lose today but the children will inherit tomorrow”.
But all’s well that reads well. Kumar’s travels are a metaphor for a man’s search for himself and the relevance of the times, in a war fought not only on foreign shores, but also in the soul; “walking along the train was walking along a timeline”. The author has run the gauntlet and won. No requiem necessary. Promise.