whether it is to run away from home, walk away
from an unsuitable relationship to freedom, or,
as in Inside the Inner Room, the wife and
mistress make an unlikely friendship, becoming
one entity, scaring the husband out of the house!
The husband, although has hurt both women,
isn’t quite vilified but exchanged for a more
gratifying bond and companionship. Kaikini
deals with the female characters with the same
compassion he shows his male protagonists,
who in turn deal with their rival wives with
compassion and dignity. Sudhanshu (in Gateway)
has lost his job, but his wife Pali cajoles him from
despondency, with her grit and commitment to
their future. In Mogri you meet a girl who controls
her own narrative, despite all the odds, standing
up for herself and what she believes is right.
The novel ends with a note by the translator,
describing her process of translation, choice of
re-translating previously published work, and
wandering around the Bombay of the stories,
seeing characters around her. Skippable is the
transcript of a conversation between Surabhi
Sharma, a film-maker interested in adapting a
few stories into a screenplay; Nisha Susan, an
English-language journalist and writer; Ashwin
Kumar A.P, a researcher and reader; and
Tejaswini Nirajana, the translator. They are all
familiar with Kaikini’s repertoire and this
particular collection. Through their conversation,
they discuss its ‘Bombay’ nature, the development
of characters and where the story ends, the
limitations of cinema and the freedom of a
story. Issues raised in the collection are
evoked, and the conversation may nudge the
reader to revisit some of the stories. The
physical and mental landscape of Kaikini
and his characters is explored, but the elegance
of Kaikini’s prose makes the discussion
seem trite and unnecessary.
The triumph of the collection is in keeping its
characters alive, long after the story is over.
You walk with the characters, get to know
their neighbours, their friends, bullies, and
relatives. Can you forgive the Mahajans for
their callous attitude to their help? Are you not
relieved that Chandu’s dad had a rethink about
leaving him behind? Don’t you cheer for Mogri,
and wish her a peaceful life? One can’t help but
feel wistful for single-screen cinemas closing,
and pathos for characters left in a lurch. It’s
the humanity with all its flaws and strengths
that one carries. Laid out in a beautiful
sequence, the characters merge into each other
and often overlap. Did the tea-boy urchin
Popat grow up to be Asavari’s fiancé? Kaikini
grasps moments of change rather delicately —
weather disasters, or changes in infrastructure,
never-ending construction, and shifting celebrity
obsessions. Despite being written over the
years, they are relevant, recognisable and
relatable. Do things change very much, for the
common man and woman? How much can life
change for the daily-wager, for someone trying
to piece together a living? Survive they all
do, and it is the extraordinary within the
mundane that Kaikini’s stories champion.
Unexpected acts of generosity, attempts at
improving circumstances, succumbing to
pressures — the collection explores human
behaviour without judgment. If one can move
beyond the ‘spirit of Bombay’ narrative, the book
brings out challenges of being human in a harsh
reality, with all its conflict and vulnerability.
Kaikini explores the nature of courage and
cowardice, of helplessness and taking charge.
It engenders reflection on the magic and
absurdity in the extraordinary mundane. An
intimate view into lives of people, it offers little
comfort and resolution of issues. If you expected
a book of Bombay stories, you’d find it here, but
prepare to be surprised, moved, and occasionally
delighted. No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories
is, indeed, a gift.No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories, authored by
Jayant Kaikini and translated by Tejaswini Niranjana
is published by HarperCollins India (2017).