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| Edited By: DNA Sunday Team |Source: DNA |Updated: Dec 05, 2017, 02:04 PM IST
The latest novel by Shashi Deshpande is a modern-day love story. Set in the cancer ward of a Mumbai hospital, Strangers to Ourselves could not have a more contemporary (and unfortunately) familiar setting. The protagonists are an oncologist and a musician. In a nice twist, the woman is the doctor and the man, the musician; she the sensible, logical, careful one, and he, passionate, impulsive and intense.
A much-loved only child of her parents, Dr Aparna Dandekar has been traumatised by a failed marriage. So much so that she has vowed to remain single. Work is the perfect escape, especially for an oncologist. Sree Hari Pandit lost his mother at a young age and was raised by doting grandparents, but has no relationship with his father and stepmother. Like many upcoming artistes, he is ardent about his art and striving for perfection.
They meet when Aparna is part of an audience where he is singing. She is captivated by his voice and his on-stage presence. He sees her in the audience and – as he tells her later – is immediately smitten. He throws himself into the relationship completely, unabashedly, and without restraint. She, too, is attracted but scared, gives a little and then retreats. He wants to marry her; she thinks of all the reasons it won't work out, again.
Narrated by Aparna, the storyline explores love's complications: she's a doctor and wealthy; he's a struggling musician and not. Though from a small town, she studied in Mumbai and worked in the US. She is now urban and contemporary. He's from a small town too and had a conservative upbringing, surrounded by religion, Sanskrit and a grandfather who was a priest. He is a misfit in the big city, dislikes the commercial aspect of a musician's life, and doesn't understand the need to network and hob-nob. An archetypal case of 'opposites attract'.
In a parallel sub-plot, Aparna gets involved with a patient at a personal level. Strictly against her training and experience – oncologists tend not to have long-term patients – she finds herself drawn to this woman's strength and stoicism in the face of her condition. The patient, Jyoti, is matter-of-fact about her illness, the treatment and generally, her life. As circumstances play out, Aparna soon becomes a neighbour, then a good friend.
Jyoti becomes Aparna's sounding board in her confusion over her attraction to Hari. There are other confidantes in Aparna's life – her cousin, sister and aunt – but with them, there is the baggage of the past. And what a complex, colourful past it is. With Jyoti, it is simpler.
Despite the complex relationships between the main characters, they are easy to relate to. We all have involved family structures, with pulls and pushes to balance. Here, for instance, Aparna's aunt has a son and daughter.
The son's wife was killed in the 2008 Mumbai attack on the Taj, so he has become virulently anti-Muslim. And the daughter is married to a Muslim! So the brother refuses to see or speak to his sister. And the mother is torn in between. In Hari's case, he has no relationship with his father and stepmother, but shares a close bond with their son Krishna, who in turn looks to Hari as one does to an older brother.
Most readers will easily sympathise with the quirky family ties – and knots.
The tight progression of the plot juxtaposed with various backstories of the main characters makes this an easy, engrossing read. The only sour note for this reviewer was the ending between Aparna and Hari. Without revealing any spoilers, it was mundane and a bit of a letdown, given the overall deftness of the storyline.
