The Last Song of Dusk

Story of a perennially happy damsel with magical charm transformed into a chronically depressed woman in an immobile state. Story of a hopelessly lovestruck husband transformed into an abjectly indifferent house mate. Story of Utopian arranged marriage charged with sensual exchanges transformed to twisted and sombre erotica featuring children, threesomes, animals and lesbians. This is a story of the metamorphoses of happy sweet-nothings to melodramatic tragedy. Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by its metaphors. The metaphors in the last song of dusk (the title itself) are original and inventive. They range from snappy wit to profound wisdom, yet never contrived. The character of Nandini is the richest source of humor and savoir faire. The story is written with a passion that can only be the result of parallel personal experiences and an immensely fertile mind. Like all good tragedies, the wretchedness of this story does not offer any obvious escape in terms of blame allocation. Shanghavi's recipe has the right pinch of magic realism to engage the Indian senses and sensibilities. This is a story of transitions but the sudden twists are sometimes hard for the reader to reconcile. In order to create the element of unpleasant surprises, the author leaves much to the readers' discretion. If Shanghavi had filled these gaps with his beautiful writing and made it 50% thicker, it would also be that much better off.

Music sings its way through evil, tragedy, and immense passions. I copied the last page and reread it frequently. All the events, all the characters, all the emotions, and all the magic hit a magnificent chord that transports me again and again to a place where I feel life most deeply.

The Last Song of Dusk marks the debut of yet another imaginative Indian author who writes in hyperbole and lush, sweeping strokes. Beautiful, impish Arunradha, with a voice to which "even the moon listens" marries the handsome doctor Vardhmaan, whose stories win her heart. The two become best friends and lovers, with such intimacy that it seems as though nothing can come between them. Even Vardhmaan's evil stepmother Divi-bai cannot drive them apart. But when their beloved and charmed son Mohan is sucked from his room into a tree, then dropped, Divi-bai finds their weakness, and all changes between them. Eventually, they move to an malevolent house with Arunradha's wild teenage cousin Nandina, who sets about to make her mark on Bombay society and the world. The three struggle to find the answer to the question, "Is love enough?" Reminiscent in parts of the work of Chitra Divakaruni, Arundhati Roy, and Isabelle Allende, The Last Song of Dusk explores the meaning of love in an occasionally magical world where houses have intentions and women mate with panthers. The novel falters when it brings in historical figures such as Gandhi since the novel's strength lies in the smaller, more believable moments. The language, although often seductive, can be overblown, but Shanghvi's passion for storytelling and his characters resonates in every sentence. Even when he fails, he picks up the narrative and continues toward the resolution with authority. Recommended for a general readership, particularly for those who enjoyed The God of Small Things (Roy) and The House of Spirits (Allende.) While The Last Song of Dusk doesn't approach the success of either, it occupies a spot in the same literary tradition.

My first reading of THE LAST SONG OF DUSK was a greatly enjoyable experience. The story has lingered on my mind since, compelling me often to revisit. Now, when I start rereading at whatever page I happen to flip, I immediately get caught up again in its enticing storytelling and the lives of its fascinating characters. Succumbing once more to the tale's magic, melancholy and sensuality, I wonder, shed a tear, chuckle, reflect or heave a sigh. As in eating an Indian curry, I savor the various flavors, the salt of sadness, the sweetness of love and friendship, the piquant spice of sexy passages... all of it steeped in poetry. I highly recommend readers to partake of this delightful curry that Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi so lovingly and ably prepared for us.

We are living in rich era of Indian literature and here is another author to embrace. Unlike the professional reviewers who finished this novel at one sitting, I had to take the first part of this book in small doses. It was too strong, too rich, too surprising, and too ominous. Lurking nastily in the house with Anuradha and Vardhmaan is an evil and ruthless mother-in-law who drove me away from the book for days. Next, the very house to which the lovers flee takes over plotting against them. When I finally screwed up my courage, I too finished the book in one evening. At the last page, I turned the book over and started reading it all over again. This time I'll try to figure out the meaning of the magical elements and try to see how the Nandini subplot influences the story of Anuradha. On first reading, I don't understand the end of the story, which may just be too realistically sad.