Skip to main content

Book review


Historical novels afford a large canvas for any writer: to research and recreate the old world for the youngsters, to imagine and fill in the gaps. N S Inamdar, who has penned 16 historical novels in Marathi, was successful in writing about the past and towering personalities, and then presenting them before his readers in flesh and blood, warts and all.

Rau, one of his most successful novels, was received very well when it was brought out by Continental Prakshan in 1972. The novel, now released in English by Pan Macmillan India, depicts the poignant love story of Bajirao-Mastani, which is far more impactful than Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s grandiose film project.

The film is based on Inamdar’s novel and so the text will not be entirely unfamiliar to those who have watched the movie. However, as it is with most cinematic adaptations of books, the latter provide a more linear graph of the plot and the characters. That’s the case with Rau as well, in which Kashibai, the wife of Peshwa Bajirao I, is given more heft. Her back story, the deals and the strained relations with her own family as also with those of her sisters-in-law — all bring out the conflict between the star-crossed lovers more clearly. As a result, the historical novel doesn’t confine itself to a period romance. The readers get a complete picture of the prevalent social and caste dogmas and the political hierarchy of the Peshwa era.

Bajirao’s romance or passion with Mastani is covered with a lot of feeling, but somewhere the courtesan/mistress has been given a touch of manipulation. Unlike the movie, where her relationship with the Bundel Raja is clearly shown, here it’s kept vague. No one knows where she comes from, where she first met the Peshwa and under what circumstances.

Rau, the titular protagonist, has been painted with all his weakness and glory in bright colours. And, it’s in his shadows that readers try to probe

Mastani’s character.

RAU
Author:
N S Inamdar

Translated by:
Vikrant Pande

Publisher:
Pan Macmillan India

Pages:
345

Price:
Rs 399

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Valu and more

Visited Poman Pimpale village where Marathi picture Valu was shot. --- Documentary la chala… came the shout and Poman Pimpale villagers slowly started gathering at the village square. The children were already there, jostling each other, eager to see the ‘documentary’ – Marathi film Valu, which was shot in this village, some 14 kms away from Saswad. On the occasion of the film completing 50 successful days, the cast and crew of Valu, decided to host a special screening for the villagers on Saturday as a tribute. As Umesh Kulkarni, the director of Valu says, “ The movie is a collaborative venture of the villagers and myself. Valu is theirs as much as it is mine.” You just need to mingle with the crowd to find out what Umesh says is true - it’s their movie that the villagers have gathered to see. Pradeep Poman, a village elder, says that they enjoyed the whole film making process. “It had become a past time for us. Whenever we had some time to spare, we just went to see the shooting.

Portrait of a poet

This has already been published in the Sunday supplement. Krishnaji Keshav Damle also known as Keshavsut --- Poetry never really appealed to me. And, so it was with great reluctance that I agreed to my husband's plan to visit Keshavsut Smarak – a memorial raised in memory of 'Father of Modern Marathi Poetry', Krishnaji Keshav Damle – in Malgund. We were in Ganapatipule at that time and decided to go to Malgund, a 10-minute drive (a kilometre) from the popular tourist destination. A sign-post told us to take a left turn and what greeted us, at the end of the lane, was tranquil silence. No security guards, no tourists, just a plaque announcing that Damle, popularly known as Keshavsut, was born in the red-roofed house, surrounded by green shrubbery. Keshavsut's house in Malgund  A poem by Keshavsut  The house, renovated in the old style, was near-empty, except for Keshavsut's portrait that was hanging from the wall in the front room. In the

Many ideas of ‘self’ (Review of Pratibimb, Marathi play)

With Mahesh Elkunchwar’s name as a writer associated with Pratibimb (Reflection), you know nothing in the play will be at face value. Nothing is what it seems. It is difficult for commoners to get into Elkunchwar’s mindspace, which is precisely the subject of the Marathi play, which was staged earlier in August and will now be performed again on Friday, September 15 at Sudarshan Rangmanch, Shaniwar Peth. While watching the play, it’s evident that the viewer has to peel various layers to get to the core of the story — Who are you? What does ‘self-identity’ mean? Is it so bad if your reflection goes missing or if you have no identity? Thokale (a white-collared office goer) wakes up one morning and finds his reflection missing. Enters Bai, his landlady, who tries to assure him that nothing is lost. In fact, it could be a ‘breaking news’ for the newspaper. This perhaps could have led to a lot of chaos physically. Instead, we are led to the darkness looming large in our dystopian minds