Portrait of India

... well, OK, maybe not quite. There are no telemarketing or service call centers, staffed by people who live the nights, to respond to the days of America. And that bustling Middle Class of at least 150 million is merely a "twinkle in the eye" of future development. The years of these telling, and well-drawn vignettes are the mid-60's; far closer to the end of the British Raj, than today. Ved Mehta is a remarkable observer, particularly since he literally cannot, being blind since the age of three. As is well known, the other senses have become sharper in compensation, and he has an acute ear for dialogue and nuance. Mehta's stories range across the breadth and depth of India, both in terms of his physical space and diversity, as well as the occupations of its inhabitants. There is a chapter on music, ranging from a concert by Bismillah Khan who plays an oboe-like instrument, the "shahnai," to the jazz scene. Another chapter is devoted to the quintessential Indian event, the display of eclectic beliefs of that most syncretic religion, Hinduism, along the banks of the "mother river," the Ganges. The next chapter resonates, unfortunately, even today, the seemingly unsolvable "problem" of idyllic, at least in terms of scenery, Kashmir, with 90% of its population Muslim, and strong desires to join Pakistan. More than a fifth of the book is devoted to a tour along the northern frontier of India: Nepal, Bhutan, Sikkim, the Northeast Frontier provinces, Nagaland, and Ladakh. The later had just been the scene of a quick, decisive war between China and India, with the later being the loser. Next Mehta examines the current state of economic development, during the days of their alliance with Russia, and therefore adoptions of 5-year plans, and heavy industry. In particular, he reports on developments in the steel industry. He stops in to visit the richest man in India, the Nizam of Hyderabad. One of his most perceptive vignettes took place in the "city of dreadful night" Kipling's borrowed phrase for Calcutta, where he visits Mother Theresa before she became famous in the West. His portrait of her actions are nuanced, in particular how she "collects souls," and do not add to the later hagiography about her life. While in Calcutta he interviews perhaps India's most famous film director, Satyijit Ray, and solicits meaningful thoughts about the other great directors of the day. Mehta returns to the west coast, to Goa, when it was still under Portuguese rule, and then on to Bombay (now, Mumbai), and looks at the eternal "vice" problems of all civilizations - alcohol and prostitution- and how India deals with them. He ends the book with reflections another fundamental aspect of Indian life: the extremes in poverty and riches: "How do the more fortunate mange to live amid such unending scenes of wretchedness? They live in fear of poverty themselves, regarding it as a personal threat....They teach themselves to see only what they want to see, yet the sense m

Ved Mehta's a sharp, appealing guide to huge swaths of India c. 1965. He delivers deft portraits of politicians, saints, blast furnace workers, musicians, filmmakers, soldiers, economists and just about everyone in between in (mostly) perfectly-sized vignettes that straddle the line between journalism and I guess what we now call creative nonfiction. Mehta writes from the rare perspective of an Indian educated mostly abroad; he speaks the languages, but approaches Indian society with a tourist's distance and unflagging curiosity. At times I wished he'd step out from behind the impeccable prose to give us a more personal impression; a lot of the pieces pull up just shy of a moral or philosophical point to charge on to the next stop. It's only in the short preface to the second edition that he reveals he's been blind since childhood. I can see why he thought it would be a distraction to include that in the book, but it points to a kind of reserve or desire to hold something important back that keeps this I think from being a real classic. But as a portrait of a particular moment in India's history--and as an example of what literary journalism at its best can be--it's still an absorbing read.

Portraits of India is a collection of essays and interviews that, when taken together, provide a rich picture of India and this century of its history. Mehta has access to many of India's national treasures, including Ali Akbar Khan and Mother Theresa (before she won the Nobel Prize). In addition, he is eloquent and opinionated on many of India's historical touchstones: Ghandi, the Muslim/Hindu partition (including some great historical background on Kashmir, relevant in light of the recent seperatist stirrings there), and religion. The book is easy to read. Each of the essays is self contained and absorbable in a sitting. They are grouped together coherently to form synergistic wholes that offer insight into this enormous country