Seven Sixes are Forty Three

I got this book from my colleagues, as a parting gift. I was leaving that firm and guys wanted to give me something I like, so, another book. Seven 6s are 43 is a translation of “Saat Sakkam Trechalis”, a marathi novel. Author Kiran Nagarkar is a ‘Sahitya Academy’ Award winner. Translation was done by Subha Slee. It’s an old book actually, first published in 1974. I started reading this, when I boarded in flight for my home and finished it when I came back from home, so, I can term it as a travel book.

The book, itself tells the story of a character Kushank’s journey through life. When I started, I found this novel a little bit vague, abruptly starting, breaking abruptly in between. Author talking about one part of life suddenly jumps to another incident, completely different and thus story appears confusing as a life can be. I didn’t like till I had finished a large portion, say almost 100 pages. After that I had enough idea about the character, so even the hoping of stories didn’t led me to ashtray and I was not able to take it off without finishing the tale.

I remember, a boy in “Catcher in The Rye” by J D Salinger, who starts speaking on one topic but keep on fleeting on different topics, I guess Kiran Nagarkar was that guy. He has, in just one go grasped so many topics that I find it hard to just list them out. Main character, a middle class Indian, going through his memory lane, childhood, college, job struggle, making and breaking of love relationships, growing old, loneliness, loosing loved ones, separation, life, death, struggle to keep himself sane, struggle of villagers to survive, searching water, fighting against a rich landowner, rebellion, Indian caste system and many things which are hard to list down. In simple, its journey of a floating mind through memory lane, ending with a great satire on religious hooliganism of Indians.

Novel, though a little bit vague, have everything you can munch on. It’s more of a ride, in which you take the first turn which fancies you; you ride not for any particular aim but for the wonder of travel. A directionless travel, rough patches, green patches, changing seasons, passing time, growing, suffering, friends, departing, love, aloof, alone, dragging, running, but you never stop for a breather, you keep on riding.

One stupid thing, I found on its back page. There was a comment from “Times of India” that author have excellent eye for finding humor in anything, be it fight against rich, death or intercourse. These are not exact words but the comment gave me a view that author writes like ‘Salman Rushdie’, adding sexual intercourse to spice up the story, or may be a satire on Indian society with loads of humor. This was a most foolish comment anybody can give to this novel. It’s hardly humorous, though a little satirical, no comparison with Rushdie’s sex enriched novels.