Growing up is difficult. Throw in the complications of rapid modernization, as in India, and we get the central conflict of The Immortals, the latest novel by Indian-English writer Amit Chaudhuri, explores 1980s Bombay from the perspective of Nirmalya Sengupta, the teenage son of a business tycoon, as he pursues his love of classical Indian music. At its heart, the novel is a coming-of-age story juxtaposed against the culture clashes that often accompany modernization. And indeed, some of the novel's central themes address the issues of Western influence, as well as the loss of a "pure," traditional culture that seems anachronistic in a globalizing world.
As an aficionado of the classic Indian sound, Nirmalya scorns the advances of Western influence on the lives of the Indian upper class. For example, he chides his mother for using her vocal talents to sing pop songs and urges his voice teacher Shyam Lal to devote himself to classical music instead of teaching Western melodies.
Chaudhuri, however, does not allow Nirmalya to continue his self-righteousness. Though sympathetic to the plight of "pure" Indian music, the writer also gently pokes fun at Nirmalya's teenage angst and sanctimonious frustrations. And as Nirmalya wrestles with the intersections of art and commerce, self and world, we see his point of view is flawed both because of his age and because he "had never known want; and so he couldn't understand those who said, or implied, they couldn't do without what they already had." Thus, Chaudhuri avoids sentimentalizing the "old way of life" while acknowledging the impulses that contribute toward a longing for purism. Ultimately, however, Chaudhuri's vision is practical. As Shyamiji says, "You cannot practice art on an empty stomach."
And yet, while I understood the novel in terms of themes - the ideas of growing up, of adolescent philosophy, of art and commerce and globalization - this novel truly sparkles in the details. The author carefully illuminates the minutia of the everyday, vividly bringing to life both the city of Bombay and the characters themselves. Chaudhuri, a classically trained and talented musician himself, uses his knowledge of music, littering the novel with musical terms, passing references to voice techniques and names of Indian singers. Such references were sometimes irritatingly obscure, but overall they lent the book an aura of authenticity. The quality of the lyrical prose also provided a nice echo to the musical concerns of the novel.
The Immortals, then, is a novel that claims that big themes are often found in the mundane events of the everyday - something I wholeheartedly agree with. But in the end, this is the novel's greatest weakness. The author's emphasis on details sometimes overwhelms, obscuring the development of key relationships and character decisions, especially at the hastily drawn ending, which leaves the reader hungry for more.
Ultimately, however, I was charmed by The Immortals and its quirky, beautiful language. I only wish that Chaudhuri had paid more attention to developing a plot framework that would have brought together the details of his book into a coherent melody that could have been truly transcendental.