Bonus Review: ''The Song of Kahunsha,'' by Anosh Irani

By NANDINI BANDYOHAPHYAY

Published: Jun 10, 2007

''The Song of Kahunsha,'' by Anosh Irani (Milkweed, $22)

Having read several fascinating books over the last couple of months which had Bombay or Mumbai as their setting, I was apprehensive and little skeptical when I picked up “The Song of Kahunsha.” I am glad to admit I was wrong.

Any metropolis has the capacity of being ruthless and beautiful at the same time, and the backdrop often becomes insignificant to the characters portrayed in the story. This novel was no exception. The reader realizes that what the protagonists experience in the course of the novel holds true to any hero of a novel growing up in a large city, be it 20th Century Bombay or 19th Century London.

It is the story of Chamdi, a precocious orphan whose name means “a boy with thick skin,” who leaves an orphanage to seek his father. Even though he never fulfills his quest that turned him to a street child, he learns to survive through his wits in Bombay. He befriends a brother and sister, Sumdi and Guddi, and these three lives intertwine forever. The camaraderie and interdependence the children develop shows the humane qualities in these three kids. The siblings, who teache Chamdi the right way to beg, also schemes to steal from the temple, a house of God to pay for medical treatment for their mentally ill mother.

The novel portrays the darkest alleys of a corrupt society where a beggar cannot beg without sharing his alms with the headman of an underground gang. Where young kids are hurt by the head man — Anand Bhai,— and nobody raises a voice, not even Bhai’s parents.

The communal tension between the Hindus and the Muslims also acts as a sub-plot in this novel. Sumdi loses his life when the Temple is bombed and Chamdi saves Guddi’s life with the help of Bhai, indebting himself to the gangster irrevocably.

It is reminiscent of picaresque novels, as it is the story of a roguish 10-year-old hero’s survival in a corrupt society. The difference though is that it is not satirical. Humor is absent in this heartbreaking saga. It is reminiscent of Dickens’ “Oliver,” surviving in 19th Century London, without the benevolent Mr. Brownlow.

The graphic description of the violence is visceral and nightmarish.

Throughout the novel we see Chamdi escaping to this alternate make-believe world of Kahunsha, “the city with no sadness”. He thinks that “one day all sadness will die and Kahunsha will be born.” It is a made up name for his dream Bombay. The one where kids play cricket in the streets with red rubber balls and the windshield mends by itself when it breaks due to the balls hitting it. It is the place where friendly brave tigers roam the streets and act as the police. But after he is made a member of the gang by doing something heinous as a part of the bargain for Guddi, we observe Chamdi losing faith in Kahunsha.

The end contains effervescent hope amidst all the despair through a song by Guddi which is borne out of loss, transcending reality and lifting the spirit of not only the hapless two children but the readers as well.

Nandini Bandyohaphyay of Tampa is a freelance writer.