One of the most beautiful things about art is its ability to transcend human limitations and the grotesquerie of existence, even while exploring the same at uncomfortably close quarters, all while on a quest for the raw truth in all its exquisite and repulsive glory, utterly shorn of artifice. A good storyteller is one who subsumes the self in service of the story being told/written. The Tiger’s Share by Keshava Guha is one such worthy story.
On the surface, it would appear to be a simple story about sibling rivalry ramped up when a family summit is called and a patriarch passes, with gender rules foisted by the patriarchy and centuries of institutionalised misogyny coming into play. But it goes beyond all that and does not limit itself to individual struggles played out against an unsettling setting where hyper-nationalism, toxic masculinity, and the burgeoning climate crisis loom over the proceedings in the menacing manner of Marvel supervillains. In a nutshell, it is about Tara, a daddy’s not-so-little girl who, far from growing up to be a clichéd junkie or purveyor of pornographic services, always assumed to be inevitable in keeping with Freudian lore, learns to see the man her father really is and her responsibilities not just to him and her immediate family but to the world at large. If Tara is the beating heart of the story, then her father is its soul.
A rare Delhiite who is not only good at her job and sensible to a fault, Tara is a lawyer who is not remotely aggressive and fully committed to defusing a potentially explosive situation. A childhood friend, Lila is a more typical inhabitant of the capital city, and the two reconnect when they find themselves dealing with siblings over what could easily escalate into a gargantuan financial and property dispute. Both the women are fully capable of taking on far more formidable adversaries using the considerable intellect, skill sets, or resources at their disposal, and yet, they falter in the manosphere they occupy. With sensitivity and gentle wisdom, Guha draws us into their compelling inner lives and into the epicenter of the fears and insecurities that rule them.
For too many women, indulgence in illicit desire might be the kryptonite that can destroy everything they have worked to build, especially in a topography where male excess regarding their loins is condoned and encouraged while the penalty could be death or worse for untrammelled feminine lust. Others may come across as truly empowered women who are self-sufficient, liberal in their outlook, with a life carefully constructed in keeping with their personal likes and preferences. They may be confident in their choice of saying no to marriage, motherhood, and a pesky boyfriend, but can they remain bulletproof when threatened with the loss of a mother’s affection? Will they sacrifice a rightful share in exchange for peace and grudgingly offered scraps of fraternal respect and affection? Is it the smarter choice for a woman to settle for less or fight for what she is entitled to? The Tiger’s Share doesn’t bother with simple answers the way a lesser book might have.
Delhi is very much a part of the narrative, and Guha’s loving depiction of the city with its compelling allure, complicated politics and impossible living conditions is a delight to behold. Tara’s father, Brahm Saxena, is a fascinating creation. A beautiful soul, he could have easily been viewed as a buffoon given the nature of his late-life existential crisis, which prompts him to do what he does, aided and abetted by his beti and a nebulous cult figure. But through Brahm’s realisation of his self, Guha urges us to accept reality as is and acknowledge that we are but infinitesimal specks in the grand scheme of things, created only to be consumed, deluded into thinking we control the future with the choices we make.