Book review: Pao: The Anthology Of Comics 1

Books: Pao: The Anthology Of Comics 1
Author: The Pao Collective
Publisher: Penguin
Pages: 293
Price: Rs799

We all know what makes a superhero. He or she must have a superhuman power, a dark past and preferably a costume that disguises their real identity. Graphic artist Amitabh Kumar’s superhero doesn’t follow this formula. For one, it’s an inanimate object — a pink helmet that has a plan of action. Like the mask in The Mask, the helmet transforms its wearer, but not into a green monstrosity. Helmetman fights evil and streaks through Kumar’s panels, spreading bright pink in its otherwise monochrome existence.

“Helmetman in Zamzamabad” is about how, in the aftermath of a bomb blast, anyone can become a victim or a suspect. It is one of the more serious stories in PAO: The Anthology Of Comics 1. Aside from tackling the issue of terrorism, it also includes a neat little segment on the media’s hunger for breaking news and the lengths they’d go to get a scoop. Despite the to-be-continued ending (I guess part two is in the works), it is one of the best stories in the collection of 12 that make up the anthology.

Pao is like a lavish buffet, filled with dishes created in different styles and palettes. It works because of this diversity. You may not like a few of the stories, but chances are that the majority of them will have you returning for more.

The anthology has been put together by five graphic novelists and illustrators who live and work in New Delhi: Orijit Sen, Vishwajyoti Ghosh, Parismita Singh, Amitabh Kumar and Sarnath Banerjee. The anthology hopes to introduce Indian readers to narratives by well-known and new graphic artists. As Banerjee writes in the anthology, “it’s a modern way of celebrating art”.

Fittingly, it’s the art in Pao that keeps the reader engrossed, right from the cover. Orijit Sen’s busy illustration is a tribute to Maurice Sendak, the American writer and illustrator who passed away earlier this year. A few pages in, you encounter “The Pink” by Salil Chaturvedi and Priya Kuriyan, starring an insurance salesman who magically turns into a flamingo. As he soars through the air, he realises just how simple life is and the beauty of exploring the world from high above. Unfortunately, the one part of him that remains human is his mind and it doesn’t allow him to enjoy such pleasures and instead, he worries about not being insured and ponders pertinent questions like, “‘Why can’t humans be nice to birds?”

Animal lovers and the faint-hearted would do well to stay away from the gory visuals of offal and dead birds in “Hindus & Offal”. Ambarish Satwik’s look at the meat-eating habits of northern India has some satirical gems. For example, he explains Hindu meat-eating logic as “The sarcophagan view that distances meat from its animal origins. The subcontinenetal habit in general is to demeatify with marination and condimental treatment, to take its smell and essences away...”. However, altogether the narrative feels too academic and doesn’t hold attention.

Vishwajyoti Ghosh’s “RSVP”, on the other hand, is a satire on those from India’s arty set who build reputations thanks to generous grants from the West. The narrative, drawn in a style reminiscent of Kalighat paintings, follows the life of a professional raconteur and the ascent to high society (Delhi’s bhadralok) he manages by encashing on the West’s fascination for Indian culture.

Much of the anthology explores the country’s fascination with legends, real and mythical. “Chilka”, a collaboration between Vidhyun Sabhaney and Shohei Emura, is a manga-style spoof of the Mahabharata. Those not well versed with the epic will find this narrative difficult to follow. “Hair burns like Grass” is a beautifully told story, dedicated to the poet Kabir. Orijit Sen tries to unravel the different legends related to Kabir’s life, weaving them around the story of a man with failing memory. Sen lets quotes from Kabir’s poetry flow over the pages, enriching the visuals. This story will leave you aching to see the completed work.

One of the yummiest treats in Pao is “Tito Years” by Sarnath Banerjee, who recounts what it was like growing up in pre-liberalisation India when Nike shoes were the pinnacle of aspiration. Banerjee’s take on ads of that era, the changing notion of sexy — from PT Usha and Shiny Abraham to item girls — and the power of brands to further one’s career and romantic prospects will have you chuckling appreciatively. Some may have seen “Tito Years” performed by Banerjee in the past or as part of one of his art exhibitions.

Pao contains interesting themes, like exploring the dream world in “Sleepscapes” by Parismita Singh, tracking a day in the life of an artist in “Print Screen” by Sanjay Ghosh and a science fiction contest that introduces its winner to an alien in “The Plasmoids” by Samit Basu and Orijit Sen.

There’s no visual pattern in the anthology which is a welcome relief. Some of the narratives feature brilliantly-drawn single and double spread illustrations, like the overhead view of New York’s skyline in “The Plasmoids”. In “The Afterlife of Ammi’s betelnut box”, amidst the visuals telling the story of the Kirmani matriarch Emu, is a luxurious double spread on her role as the family chronicler.

Pao is a book that has evidently been put together with much love and attention. The passion that the artists and writers have for their genre is evident in how luxuriously the book has been produced. So savour each story and the details of each illustration. It will leave you wanting that second course.