Book review: 'Cobalt Blue'

Book: Cobalt Blue
Author: Sachin Kundalkar, translated by Jerry Pinto
Publisher: Penguin
Price: Rs399

A page into Cobalt Blue and you realise it’s a book you can’t put down easily. Its voices capture you. Cobalt Blue is the story of a man who walks into the Joshi family as a paying guest and walks out suddenly, breaking the hearts of siblings Tanay and Anuja. The books has two parts, each a monologue — Tanay directly addresses the man who left, and Anuja writes her thoughts in a diary.

The paying guest (PG) has no name or surname and no past. He is a man who lives by his own idiosyncrasies, a seeker who follows no rules. He likes Matisse, Rumi, Dali, rice pancakes, strong coffee, black and white photographs and Coke with a pinch of salt. He paints and plays the guitar. Being alone is a habit for him.

The only thing that is known about his family is that his father was a consultant with the Indian embassy in Paris and that his uncle molested him when he was a child. There’s a lot you learn about the guest and yet, a lot you don’t know. Most of you know comes through Tanay’s narrative.

Tanay is the non-favoured son in the Pune-based Joshi family. A quiet child, with a funny walk, his life changes when PG steps into it. He spends most of his days, and nights, with him. When PG leaves, all he has of him are a few stray photos, clothes...a museum of broken things. He can’t share his grief, so it consumes him. In short, broken sentences, he conveys his feelings of loss, longing and betrayal.

In contrast, Anuja’s mourning is more visible. It takes the form of depression and crying bouts. Her monologue comprises entries in a diary that her psychiatrist tells her to maintain. Her section is more detailed. Anuja is a rebel. She has a few social skills. She suddenly takes off on treks and trips and volunteers with environmental organisations. She is the one who approaches the PG and asks him out. She doesn’t like the world of her mother’s religion and the cowardice of her father. Her love is no different from Tanay’s in its intensity.

For a book that was originally written in 2006, Cobalt Blue is ahead of its time. The homosexuality angle is dealt with simply. Tanay dreams of living with PG, of being in a stable, monogamous relationship. “What do two men who decide to live together do?” he ponders. “Men who don’t have the old to look after or the young to raise. For most of the day we would do as we liked.”

He takes PG along to secret  meetings with other homosexuals where they plan a movement for their rights. But in his heart, Tanay knows that fighting for independent newspapers, pubs, theatres and the like... making a break from the rest of the world and demanding equality makes them no different from the Establishment. It appears as if Tanay and PG had a deeper connection than the one PG had with Anuja.

Kundalkar’s observations on life are sharp and witty. There is a hilarious passage that talks about how domestic counselling happens in a Maharashtrian family. Everyone has a inner psychiatrist within them that emerges with some home-made mottos and a few lines from a Jagjit Singh ghazal or a Tukaram quote, and finally the ever popular phrase: Whatever happens, happens for the best.

One of Anuja’s diary entries touches upon her aunt’s thoughts on their generation being transitional. “We had been given the freedom to choose how we want to live and behave. We were lucky to have parents who felt blessed in having children and were willing to take all the responsibilities that came with it. And so our sense of freedom is only a rehearsal. The next generation will have to pay the price.”

The narratives of both siblings are not chronological. Anuja’s diary entries may be dated but what she writes in them follows no timeline. There’s a poetic quality to the language, making you wonder about the beauty of the actual version. In the translator’s note, Jerry Pinto mentions how in many places he let the Marathi words be because he didn’t want them to lose character.

Cobalt Blue is a book that will engulf you when you are reading it, and haunt you much after you’re done.