Book review: 'The Prayer Room'

The Prayer Room
Shanthi Sekaran
HarperCollins
382 pages
Rs350

When George leaves England for Madras in 1974 to work on his art history dissertation, he brashly tells his girlfriend not to wait for him. He imagines he’s going to have a jolly good time drinking G&Ts and flirting madly at relics-from-the-Raj clubs with fellow expats. Soon after, he wishes he had kept his mouth shut. The hottest thing about Madras is the climate — the club and easy expat girls were just a foolish fantasy.

Then one fine day, George meets a good Madrasi girl, Viji. Only, Viji is not a good girl after all, tsk. When Amma finds out that she’s been sneaking into George’s bedroom, the bewildered Englishman is dragged to the altar. Viji knows that George doesn’t love her, and she isn’t sure of her feelings either. All along, their communication has been fairly wordless and confined to the bedroom. 

Soon after, they have triplets and live in California.  Viji is an Indian immigrant now. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but let me play wet blanket — this is where the comparison with Jhumpa Lahiri’s heroines begins and ends. Viji is no forlorn housewife whining about alienation and pining for India. She’s a sturdy little thing who hasn’t bothered to go back for 12 long years, not even when Amma died. And by now you seriously begin wondering if those Reader’s Digest sex-is-the-bedrock-of-a-good-marriage articles were right. There are still no encouraging signs of mental compatibility.

Till you’re mid-way into the novel you have absolutely no idea where the story is going but it’s so whimsical and witty, you’re perfectly content to enjoy the ride. The occasional conversations Viji has with photographs of dead friends and family members in her puja room are amusing as well and leave you looking forward to more. So far, so good.  Till the author decides to shake things up. Sturdy Viji becomes silly Viji. She suddenly cares whether George loves her or not, and slips into victim mode — strange, because I believe George is the real victim here.

Matters get worse when George’s widowed father leaves England and moves in with them — with him around, glaring cultural differences surface. Dark family secrets slowly emerge and when you see the whole picture, it just ain’t pretty. You started out with one dysfunctional couple, but discover two more — George’s parents and Viji’s parents.  This is when you yearn for comic relief. Those conversations with photographs of dead people would have helped considerably, but oddly enough, Sekaran decides to dole them out in a stingy manner.  

Even so, this is a fairly interesting read. My biggest grouse is that it started out as dark comedy and ended up being just dark.