Skip to main content

Book Summary

Book Title: The Village By the Sea
Author: Anita Desai
Length: 260 pages
Genre: Children's Fiction 
 


Scoop in a Nutshell
A village by the sea. What does that remind you of?
Hawkers? Flea markets? Fishing?
Bring in all of that and more. Into the vibrant village of Thul, nestling by the Arabian Sea.
Breathing color and life and fish, Thul is a fishing-hub, complete with its share of routine bustle, markets, fresh palms, and the nautical breeze.  
And life goes on.

But does it, really?

When an industrial building is thrust into such a pristine frame, can life ever seem the same?
The answer, of course, is no, but unlike what you might have believed, it is the people- the villagers-that seem outlandish, and not the factory. City-folk have always had the knack of marking their territory, and so, as the old breathe the smoke of a transformed native land, and the young grapple between dreams of recruitment in the factory, and reality, life goes on.

Hari, a young boy, his sister, Leela, and their younger siblings are thrown into more turmoil than ever with the coming of the factory. What with  an invalid mother to tend for and a drunkard of a father to fend themselves from, there could never have been enough.

However, Leela and Hari deal with every situation with a renewed courage and strength, finding ways out and managing to keep themselves grounded  all along. But how long can it last? The shores have always been tempting, so Hari finally sets off all by himself to Bombay, to make himself a fortune that he believes can be of aid to his family.

There is good in every corner of the world. Hari would have rephrased that- every tenth mile has a helpful soul. In Bombay, a Mr. Panwallah, a watch-maker, is the companion Hari would just have needed while working in a hectic five to nine job in a local dhaba- The Shree Krishna Eating House.
Adventures, experiences, learning, courage and knowledge just fly to Hari when he takes up watch-mending 'part-time' with Mr. Panwallah. He soon realises that he has found a profession he is suited for.

And so the parting is a pleasant one. The man who comes back to Thul is confident, self-reliant, responsible and well-aware. His father has come to terms with the right kind of living, and his mother is in finer health than before.






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Still

A landscape of feathers The smoothest natural canvas, For Nature's painter- Alighting while parading its beauty Before retreating  Into a well-worn easel. Soot-black, rust-grey, brown like tinsel, Folding up and pulling down the covers Over grace, beauty and space, Compounded with distance, Rendering known unknowns, beautiful art. Now mingled with unknown knowns, Streaks of color paint the marauded canvas Differently. Camouflage seems eminent, Unimportance, inadvertent. The marvels Of the aerial world, beget stupor as  They transform into the pedestrian In the realm which is terrestrial. The miracle of flight now a bane, As for food they must forage  With feet, not fly with feathers. I don't want to startle them. It is silence that beckons them to the ground. Startlement stirs them upwards, into the skies, Simpering, whimpering, not soaring and diving- Trespassers on a land where they are weak, Vulnerable- they know they can't win. Aviation is a weapon futile against...
1 comment
Read more

The Tree Says 'Hi'

  The tree says Hi! My balcony was briefly an arboretum. Windswept leaves splayed over the floor  Like champion specimens -parts of a fine species- Careening into a welcoming sanctum That is otherwise empty- save for clothes on stands Or people on feet. When this tree paid its timely visit Luckily, there was nothing, no-one. It probably seized A rare chance- when it was out of anchor, fit and fine, In form- and the tiled floor bare. No sign of occupation. It bore its way past the metal rails that serve to Prevent our falls, but here cushioned the tree's. It rested its somber branches easily on the rail, Which is mighty strong and sturdy, as I can now discern. It snooped its slender branches threateningly over A cauldron of leaves. Green cauldron, green sorcerer. When I woke, there it was, unshakeable, unmovable. Oh, it was mobile alright. It'd have moved of its own will. It was merely enjoying its soiree in a forbidden land, Like we all do. But it just stared at me, with compo...
4 comments
Read more

Clandestine

Sometimes we wait too long, To speak our minds. We let lingering truths linger, We let sporadic clocks, chime.. We allow patient seams to fritter away Like a sparrow does with the timber of the tune That she was shrouded by; shrill words tearing  Ears, each word she utters, careful, today. While the first day it was a free reign, until Some unctuous winds carried to her, criticism. Just the same way as copper utensils in a house Of steel, are anyone's delight, until bronzed,  With wear and use, both are the victims Of sundry needs and glances. Just the same way, some things, Are stowed away in careful pockets Because they have borne a lot of perusing When kept in the open.  Like love. Like hurt. Like envy. Like silence. Trust and truth are two things I can list, That are given, that are l'habitude. I tell the truth because it is, it exists, It is what I perceive, it is what I've lived.. And I keep your trust, because I've learnt That it'll help you keep mine, it wil...
Post a Comment
Read more