.::Delhi's history: Unleashed & Sexploited::. Review on Delhi - Khushwant Singh

As I opened my cupboard to search for this book, blurred and fainted visions haunted me. Images of a posh party in late 2001 at a grand hotel came before my eyes, where Khushwant Singh was invited by my father, where the author himself handed me with this book and told me “Promise me Sunny, that this will be the first book you’ll read when you turn 18”, with a wink...I smiled at the flashback and looked down at the cover. A buxom lady half nude standing with her head bowed in front of an emperor...Why did I want to read this? Delhi, the city itself, was one of the sole reasons. I have known Delhi at the back of my hand (thanks to its short distance to Rishikesh and to our 100s of relatives residing there), but never really indulged myself into the history of the city. Dad said, every monument there had a fantastic tale behind it, which only acted as a catalyst in my desire to read about this city, and here I am...so did this novel satiate my thirst...Read on!!

PLOT OF “DELHI”

There’s not one, but an unbelievable ten plots in this epic. Basically, it’s a collection of 10 tales which start off at 1265 A.D. and come way down to 1985 A.D. covering all the major incidents that gave Delhi its present shape, its present identity. The protagonist/narrator of this book is an old reprobate who loves Delhi as much as he does the hermaphrodite (hijda) prostitute Bhagmati! The story jets off with this middle-aged man landing into Delhi after a hiatus and accommodating himself in the city. After some days of wandering, he basically takes up a job of a royal tourist guide, as he is quite well-acquainted to the city. His first account when he takes an American girl on a round trip of the city suggest that he is anything but a gentleman. Flirting and eve-teasing are his forte and he enjoys the company of women. Enter Bhagmati—a dark, scruffy hijda from Lal Kuan in whom our protagonist finds a hugely satisfying bed-partner. What follows is an endless description of their libidinous adventures in bed, which is better left in the book. The narrator, thereafter, takes Bhagmati to Jahaz Mahal, where an inscribed stone catches his eye, and thus starts the real history of Delhi.

The reader is taken way back to 1265 A.D. when Delhi was ruled by Sultan Ghiasuddin Balban. The narrator here is a clerk called Musaddi Lal who takes us on his life journey (right from his child-marriage to his old years), and in the process he very masterfully sews in the influence of Hazrat Nizamuddin, the wrath of Ameer Khusraoo and the passing over of the kingdom from Balban to Khiljis. In other words, this chapter marks the building of Mughal Empire in Delhi. The next one tells us describes the advent of Taimur in Delhi, and the consolidation of Mughals. The following one stretches from the death of Jahangir to the reign of Shah Jahan to Aurangzeb’s rule from the eyes of an untouchable Sikh. What follows next is Aurangzeb’s heart-wrenching life history, taken from the author’s autobiography, followed immediately by Nadir Shah’s invasion and one year rule over Delhi. Up next is a detailed, erotic life-history of an Agra-based poet (shaayar) in whose life-time Delhi gets into the hands of Abdali, then the Marathas, then the Jats and the Sikhs, and finally to the hands of Ghulam Qadir. The city, irrespective of the ruler, only comes one step closer of being a desert—such is the havoc created by each of them. Then comes the chapter titled “1857”, which marks the beginning of British’s government’s impact on Delhi and deterioration of the last emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar to a prisoner, with whom, the Mughal Empire sees its last, painful days. Slowly moving into the 1900s comes the third last chapter, which tells how Delhi was being rebuilt under the British Raj. The chapter’s narrator is a builder (who played chief importance in standing buildings up) who later on turns to a dignitary. After many Viceroys, comes the second last chapter describing India’s period of Independence, Partition and Gandhiji’s Shootout. The narrator here is a refugee from Pakistan who joins a fundamentalist group in Delhi, and observes every action by the Father of The Nation and other dignitaries closely. Cut to the present narrator, the same old Sikh who had found that inscribed stone, and comes the last episode that shook Delhi—1984 riots, after Indira Gandhi was shot dead.

Stretched in over 400 pages, this is what forms the outer shell of this epic called “Delhi”.

MY REVIEW ON “DELHI”

Storytelling:

Delhi is very unique in its story-telling. The manner in which the 10 episodes have been sewn in are almost revolutionary in concept, but what bogs down is the lack of flow in the language. To provide authenticity and uniqueness to each era, each and every episode has a totally different style of narration. So when Aurangzeb or Nadir Shah write about themselves, they refer themselves as “we”. Similarly, the poet, Meer Taki Meer has a poem almost after every 4 paragraphs. Plus, the plethora of Arabic words being stuffed into every chapter means that after every episode, you feel completely out of place in the next episode. Moreover, there is a chapter titled “Bhagmati” after every episode, where the present narrator makes his presence felt through a completely voyeuristic account,that instead of joining the episodes, only divides the book.

Another demeaning factor is Delhi’s length. Each and every episode (save for Taimur’s) is so long-winded, and so heavy in narration, that after every episode, I felt giddy. Relief comes only in the form of sexual descriptions interwoven in abundance into practically every episode.

As far as eroticism and voyeurism is concerned, I think there was simply an overdose of it. After reading the whole book, when I counted the number of pages describing the adventures in the bedroom, I was amazed to find a concentrated 20% of the book immersed in it, which makes the book pure adult fiction. Every second king is claimed to be a gay and every third ruler a male-whore. Add to that explanations of every encounter they have, and I won’t balme you if you mistake this book to be a rip-off from Playboy. The author’s sense of humour is also idiotic at times, as after a heavy chapter on Meer Taki Meer, he has written a full four pages on different types of farts. Gawd!!!

My other gripe with the book was its language. Besides having an overdose of Arabic words, there are all the gaalis and swear-language that you can ever ask for, and more. Don’t be amazed if you find Indira Gandhi being called a bitch, or Gandhiji being nicknamed as Old Fox.

All this, however, doesn’t mean that Delhi is badly written. Seeing my lack of keen-ness in reading long novels, I was amazed to have actually completed Delhi in three days thanks to the Oxbridge-style narration. There’s no dearth of literary experiments here, and though the language does give the book a dramatic look, it takes away its lightness and vividity, and makes it all the more heavy.

Characterisation:

Too many characters. Probably more than 1000 find their way into Delhi, and thanks to the author’s command over language, most of them do leave an impression on the reader’s mind. The most endearing pieces of work come in the chapters of Aurangzeb, Nizamuddin and Nadir Shah. All these three episodes will have you hooked from the first page to the last, and tug at your heart-strings.

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