The novel opens with a stunning monologue by Durga Dhasal. Once an orphaned child on Delhi streets, Dhasal wins a ‘genetic lottery’ as well as the interest of an empathetic soul. He goes on to become a well-liked academic and politician. But he is killed by a mob controlled by the Lokshakti, the popular anti-corruption movement in the country. And Vyas, who is with Lokshakti in its culture department as director, needs to track down a movie titled Ajaya , made by Dhasal.
The novel proceeds to unravel the connection between these two men; one in quest of the other. Vyas, who admires Dhasal, had once sent Dhasal his unpublished novel. And Ajaya seems to be on the same theme, both built off the Ramayana — about how separation plays on a relationship. In real life, all Vyas wants is to be with Tanaz, his wife. He complicates this simple wish by sending Dhasal a letter meant for someone else. And now that Dhasal is dead, the letter is not a very convenient thing for Vyas.
So Vyas sets out on a complex journey that keeps the reader intensely glued to the 400-odd pages. Travelling across this dominion, you meet a number of people: everyday people you might meet on the street, in the club or at work. The radical student, the passionate scientist, the businessman who collects ruins, the eunuch poet, the artist, the aging film star, the mob….
The reader realises the story is not only contemporary in its events but also evolves prophetically. And where does the letter lead Vyas to? Is it to himself?
Menon traverses and tackles the realms of dystopia in contemporariness, as he maintains a narration that’s magical in its craft. It is fast-paced yet unhurried, simple yet layered, and liberally splattered with subtle humour. There’s humour in the book; but it’s not the in-your-face-guffaw-inducing type, it’s more tongue-in-cheek and subtle.
The women protagonists of the story are strong, and leading the story straight ahead with multiple layers of power shared among them; meet Kannagi, Tanaz, Bilkis, and Padma. The feminist voice is palpable. Twists are usual in stories, but one is also aware that reality follows analogous patterns. And that’s what the story goes on to demonstrate.
In spite of all the twists and turns, in both the stories and in the odysseys of the protagonists, Half of What I Say , examines, above all, the power of words and the scope of stories.
Half of What I Say ; Anil Menon, Bloomsbury, Rs. 499.
