Reality bites: Review of Udayan Mukherjee’s ‘Essential Items: Stories from a Land in Lockdown’

Udayan Mukherjee uses the lockdown as a touchstone to bring out our best, worst and most fragile selves

Updated - November 29, 2020 07:59 am IST

Published - November 28, 2020 04:00 pm IST

Home truths: Labourers in Guntur on their way home to Bengal during the lockdown.

Home truths: Labourers in Guntur on their way home to Bengal during the lockdown.

The title might cause you to expect a collection of inspirational stories about people coming together to fight adversity during these trying times. But the 10 stories here are nothing like that: Udayan Mukherjee’s sketches are a stark portrayal of life in lockdown India. He manages to strike a fine balance between a variety of emotions, characters, and cultures.

(Stay up to date on new book releases, reviews, and more with The Hindu On Books newsletter.  Subscribe here. )

A matter of life and dearth

In the first story, ‘A Life or Death Situation’, two corpse-bearers discuss their imminent unemployment on the banks of the Ganga in Varanasi. As they contemplate the end of their profession, Shibu asks Kallu, ‘“But, here everyone knows us as doms, what else can we do, Kallu?’” Kallu replies, “‘You have answered your own question. It cannot be here, then. Didn’t you have an uncle in Gorakhpur? Best if you can leave the state, though, where our shadows can’t follow us.”’ Even the pandemic — a matter of life and death — cannot erase entrenched caste lines.

In ‘Holidays’, Mukherjee gives us a policeman who yells at Achala emerging from a chawl and waves a friendly greeting to a passing jogger. If these stories portray our best and worst selves, the titular story catches us in our most fragile moment. It’s quite a revelation to read this story featuring two locked-up oldies, a delivery volunteer, and an unexpected bout of pettiness from the unlikeliest of sources.

In a touching story, ‘Homecoming’, a migrant’s illusions about city life are shattered by the lockdown. The dispensable nature of his city-based work makes him question his definition of home. Mukherjee leaves us with a haunting image of contentment: “After the meal, I sat in the sun with Sonu and Titli and asked them what they had been up to while I was gone. They chattered away; I didn’t register half the things they said, but the singsong lilt of their voices soothed my ears. Gauri sat with a vessel of rice, sifting it for pieces of stone. There wasn’t much to do, from what I could see; she just wanted to sit close to me and the kids.”

Instagram gallery

Essential Items feels like a well-curated Instagram gallery at times: as you scroll through the pictures, some look suspiciously prettier. Which is my quibble with ‘Border Town’ and ‘The Party’ — both seem conveniently filtered. The latter, especially, reads like an attempt to distil an online comment section into a story, with all the usual suspects — privilege, taxes, charity, guilt — coming up in predictable order.

What sets Essential Items apart is its unabashed Indianness — the stories are as real as the motorcyclist who puts on his helmet only when he spots a cop. Using the pandemic as a litmus test, Mukherjee shows us the lines crisscrossing our society, with some lines, like those of caste and class, remaining strong even in the face of death, and some blurring all too easily.

Essential Items: Stories from a Land in Lockdown; Udayan Mukherjee, Bloomsbury India, ₹499

The reviewer is a freelance writer and illustrator.

0 / 0
Sign in to unlock member-only benefits!
  • Access 10 free stories every month
  • Save stories to read later
  • Access to comment on every story
  • Sign-up/manage your newsletter subscriptions with a single click
  • Get notified by email for early access to discounts & offers on our products
Sign in

Comments

Comments have to be in English, and in full sentences. They cannot be abusive or personal. Please abide by our community guidelines for posting your comments.

We have migrated to a new commenting platform. If you are already a registered user of The Hindu and logged in, you may continue to engage with our articles. If you do not have an account please register and login to post comments. Users can access their older comments by logging into their accounts on Vuukle.