It could have been stellar stuff except for the fact that it is not. The main characters are more one-dimensional than a post-it note split along its width.
Chanakya’s Chant
Ashwin Sanghi
Westland
448 pages
Rs195
At the launch of Ashwin Sanghi’s Chanakya’s Chant, in his zeal to find a suitable place for the book on the evolutionary ladder of Indian writing in English, chief guest Shashi Tharoor ended up placing it a rung above Salman Rushdie. So it was with rather lofty expectations that this reviewer approached the book.
The setting alternates between Bharat 2,300 years ago, and a modern-day India. Chanakya, aggrieved by the murder of his father, decides to dethrone the offending king and unite Bharat under the golden rule of Chandragupta Maurya.
Chanakya’s modern avatar, Pandit Gangasagar Misra, pretty much traverses the same narrative arc, except his protege is the Oxford-educated slum child, Chandini Gupta, for whom he has prime-ministerial aspirations.
It could have been stellar stuff except for the fact that it is not. The main characters are more one-dimensional than a post-it note split along its width.
Both Chanakya and Gangasagar, with their gargantuan intellects, smugly manipulate their way through their respective political environments without any self-doubts or major problems, while their proteges and other characters look on in slack-jawed admiration.
Chandragupta, one of the greatest emperors of ancient India, is reduced to a muscular bone-head in the book. His main contribution towards the narrative thrust of the story is to naively ask questions such as “What have we achieved wise teacher?”, “So what happens now acharya?” and then, a page later, “I don’t understand, you talk in riddles sometimes, acharya!” Chandini is no better and mouths lines similar those of her own mentor.
The writing is lazy at best. And at certain points in the novel Sanghi just starts copy-pasting entire paragraphs with minor changes. Page 330: “Hah! Blurted the customer-in-waiting. Neither the barber nor the goldsmith knew him. He seemed to be a stranger in these parts.” Page 331: “Hah! Blurted the customer seated at the table next to them. Neither the school teacher nor the doctor knew him. He seemed to be a stranger in these parts.” Page 332: “Hah! Blurted the man dozing under the pipal tree…” you get the drift.
The book could have provided a thrilling insight into the mind of one of India’s greatest thinkers, but it fails. It’s a fast read — you can read it while waiting for a flight. But make sure you bin it before you board. The 300-odd grams that Chanakya’s Chant weighs are not worth carrying around.
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
)
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
)
)
)
)
)
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}
){kind=small}