Ghachar Ghochar by Vivek Shanbhag: An Excerpt

I talked about the book Ghachar Ghochar by Vivek Shanbhag in yesterday's post on my February reading. For completeness sake, I'm including it here as well.

Here's what I wrote:

---
I discovered this book thanks to Liz McCausland, and I cannot praise it highly enough. The original story is in Kannada (one of the languages of southwestern India) and is set in Bangalore. It is told by an aimless, shiftless young man who resides in a complex, interdependent, joint family situation with his parents, wife, sister, and uncle. The uncle runs his own spice trading business, which has become quite profitable, and is the sole earner of the family. The family, in turn, caters to his every want and desire, even before he realizes he needs it. The story starts with them living in a modest lower-middle-class house and then moving up to a fancy two-storey house. Once prosperity enters their house, so do untold troubles. Shanbhag does a masterful job of teasing out the turmoil in this tightly psychological novella through his protagonist's observations, actions, and reactions.
---

Partway through the story, the protagonist, let's call him Vikram, has an arranged marriage with a young woman named Anita. Arranged marriages are usually where a family friend or relative will introduce the boy's side of the family to the girl's side of the family. In this story, Vikram and his family drive from Bangalore to Hyderabad to meet Anita and her family. Over cups of tea and snacks, while the families are getting acquainted, Vikram and Anita are given a few hours of alone time to talk and see if they're compatible. That's it. Everyone decides they will suit and the wedding is arranged before Vikram and his family return home.

To historical romance readers, this sounds very much like a marriage of convenience plot, doesn't it?

Shanbhag handles that moment when the newly wedded husband and wife, who are strangers to one another, are finally alone with a sensitivity and acuity that I wish more historical romance writers would do. Here it is, and I quote:

---
I had on a white kurta bought specifically for the night. My mind swirled with the possibilities that lay ahead as we made our way to the room. I found it hard to even look at her. I tried to act casual as I closed the door behind us. When I turned around she was standing by the bed. The light switch was next to the door and I turned it off. The room was now faintly lit by the haze from the streetlamp outside. I walked up to her. I could smell her scent now. I didn't know what to do next, and I paused for a moment. Then I raised my right hand and placed it on her shoulder. One thing alone gave me the courage to touch her: we were married now. My hand lowered itself along her arm and stopped at her elbow. My left hand went to her waist and drew her closer. She moved toward me as well and we embraced. Her touch, her smell, the fragrance from the flowers she was wearing, the press of her chest on mine, her lips against my neck.

That single moment's intensity hasn't been matched in my life before or since. A woman I didn't know had chosen to accept me, in body and mind. Perhaps it is this instant that forms the basis of traditional marriage—a complete stranger is suddenly mine. And then, I am hers, too; I must offer her my all. I want her to wield her power over me as an acknowledgment of my love. The rush of feelings all at once is too much to describe. Language communicated in terms of what is already known; it chokes up when asked to deal with the entirely unprecedented.

Similar feelings must have welled up in her, too. Her face was buried in my chest. Her arms tightened around me. I could feel the bangles on her arms pressing into my back. Through touch, through the giving, yielding closeness of our embrace, this unknown woman began to be known to me. I've often longed for a comparable experience, but there seems to be none. That sense of strangeness, surrender, dependence, compassion, entitlement, and a hundred other sentiments bundled together cannot possibly be relived.

I held her tighter still, then relaxed. I raised her face and through her lips gained my first taste of her world.
---

Wonderful, isn't it? Evocative and nuanced, it fair snags your attention.

[Please note: I'm not sure if it is alright for me to quote so much text from the book. If it is not okay, I will take it down. If that happens, you can buy/borrow a copy and turn to pages 74 & 75 to read it.]