An Evening With “The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin” by Manu S. Pillai

When a book moves me enough to write, then that is a truly good book in my eyes. Those books are rare, however. For every year, there comes along perhaps two, maybe three books that make me want to get my lazy tuchus off the bed and write whatever little that oozes out. It never pours anymore, of course. But the best books milk me through sublime narrative, vivid characters and the immersive experience that fires up the remaining few cells in my brain that urge me to write. This year had been particularly dry. I’ve read less than usual, and even the odd film had left me completely parched. And then came Manu S Pillai’s new book. And here I am, resurrected. Summer is over, the rains are here.

I first read Manu’s debut, the incomparable “Ivory Throne” last year, after seeing excerpts from it on the Instagram stories of a frenemy of mine. The fact that there was a book out there that dealt with historical Malayali women, especially from Travancore (of which my hometown would have been a distant subject) surprised and delighted me immensely and I immediately got my hands on it. His follow-up, “Rebel Sultans” dealt with an era and geographical area that I didn’t know much about, the Deccans before Shivaji. It was a fascinating read, full of surprising information that I never imagined could be possible even for a country as diverse and rich in history as India.

The new book, called “The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin” is a departure in many ways from the pattern the author followed in his previous two books. Where the other books were straightforward narratives dealing with the very specific characters or historical events set in a timeline, with annotations galore, the new book does away with any apparent through-line, and a narrative that links all the chapters together and is a collection of mostly stand-alone essays about specific events or people from before the British came to suck the life out of the country till around the time they were evicted. Each of the articles are mostly independent, with the occasional one tentatively linked to one down the line, and the only theme running through I could find between them is the fact of deep affection for history and historical people that the author has. Oh, and there’s plenty of pointed comments on the present political climate in the country where divisive and incendiary rhetoric, particularly in relation to the attempts to homogenize this collection of a thousand different cultures and peoples, and also the unnecessary imposition of an extremely limited North Indian vision of what it means to be “Indian“. (Side-note, STOP trying to make Hindi the national language, it’s desperate and tacky).

The author’s style is electric and conversational, which makes the reading experience an utter pleasure. It’s not a plod through quagmires and bogs, but an appealing trot through lush grasslands resplendent with warm sunlight and a cool breeze. There’s much to make you think, and imagine, and several times I found myself cackling madly, drawing perplexed and concerned looks from my colleagues. One particularly hilarious moment was the very first line on the chapter about the lesser-known, even numbered Mughal emperor Jahangir. Another was the casual mention of an unusual acquisition by Robert Clive during his years of rapacity in India; gonorrhea. Moments like these make you utterly desperate to read through this marvelous little book as fast as you can, so that you can munch on these juicy nuggets. It’s no wonder, then that I managed to finish it in one sitting, only breaking for dinner which is in fact a miracle that hasn’t happened since the first time I read “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” more than a decade ago (and even then, sleep and grief interrupted after the sad demise of Dobby).

This book has one distinctive quality at its core that at once separates and elevates it in comparison to the author’s previous, prodigious works: Focus. Because of the format, of short episodic tales, the inherent containment helps immeasurably to strip away the author’s tendency to ramble occasionally through tangents tentatively related to the pertinent narrative which was the one tiny flaw that I felt with the previous books. This is more Sophia Petrillo”s Sicily stories than Rose Nylund’s St. Olafian curiosities, as entertaining as they may be. That focus makes for a blazing read, each sentence, each paragraph, and each chapter racing past effortlessly, leaving deep impressions while also arousing a yearning to know in-depth about certain characters or events for the reader to delve into deeper at a later time, in leisure. This quality makes this new offering from one of India’s brightest new flames in the literary pantheon perhaps his most accessible and yet most deeply touching offerings, continuing his enviable streak of superhumanly researched (and yet never pedantic) works.

The substantial charm of this book just so happens to be its one flaw as well. On occasion, the chapters seem to be perfunctory, almost teasing the reader with information but never quiet delivering on the promise and leaving us in a state of literary blue-balls. Several chapters hint at the intrigue and renown accrued by persons discussed in it, but we’re told, not shown. While it may be taken as an attempt by the author to instill in the reader an urge to look the person or event up on the ever accessible internet, sometimes it ends up being frustrating and inconsequential as the chapter ends feeling like seat-fillers in a political rally. But they are few and far between, and there’s more than enough wealth in these pages to keep even the most voracious of readers satisfied and interested, and more importantly, curious and intrigued to research for themselves events they might otherwise have never stumbled across.

I absolutely love this book, there’s simply no denying it. My hope now is that there are more to follow in the same vein, because I am sure that Manu has a wealth of knowledge that is broad and deep which is just waiting to be shared with his very hungry fan-base. And that in itself is a great victory he can be proud of, of making people look forward to books on history instead of tepid love stories and sensational scandals. Isn’t that just wonderful.