Reviewed by Rama Gaind.
By Liz Gallois, Transit Lounge, $29.95.
A chance discovery proved India Vik to be a rewarding read. Gallois has written about India like no other. This powerfully redolent collection of short stories contain brilliant nuggets that leave you wanting to travel to the most populous democracy in the world.
Appealing is the absence of misty-eyed, conventional sentiments. It’s uplifting, in fact. Numerous voices speak, and we listen, to the ache, pain, love, failure and longing. In some instances, sensuality lingers underneath the veneer.
From Chennai to Sydney, Liz captures both Indians and westerners in new and unexpected guises, their relationships teetering on the edge or caught at odds by the allure and the chaos of the subcontinent. However, the ‘lens through which the west views India’ can sometimes be imprecise.
The first story – The Elastic-Sided Boots – starts with: “In moments of tenderness or lust Jill croons, ‘Davood, my little toy boy.’ He likes her cool touch on his cheek, smoothing the soft down. He shaves, but so far the desired bristles refuse to sprout.” It’s not what you expected.
Two narratives are about subdued disillusionment. In The Colour of Coral, an elderly Australian tries to reach across the cultural divide to her Indian friend. Romesh Mehta is the once-respected Box Wallah. He becomes friends with the narrator and her family from Melbourne. As the story unfolds, we get glimpses of his lifestyle until the departure of the British.
A hankering for forbidden love and an unknown father are unearthed in The Colour of Coral and Fatherland.
These are stimulating works of fiction, sprinkled with comic interludes and dusted with fragrant melancholy … deeply perceived and profoundly experienced.
Gallois writes concisely, without judgement, speedily sketching characters to provide insights pertinent to the modern traveller … about culture, traditions, history and social incongruity.
