It is said don’t judge a book by its cover, but
there are certain books which live upto their cover page…The cover page
of Nine lives I bought in 2011 had eyes of a Kannur dancer wearing
a red head gear with silver serpent heads on it, a very intriguing picture exuding immense energy.
That's the cover of my copy |
The look said it would not let me keep the book
down without finishing it, it would stare back at me to remind every single
day that the nine chapters based on nine characters needs my attention.
What is fascinating about these characters is that they
are not fictional, they are real people just like us, but as I navigated through
the chapters the line delineating facts and fiction blur, every chapter left me with a collage of images which look stranger than fiction.
I could not continue reading two chapters back to
back...I would leave the book for a day before I began a new chapter every
time. It felt as if I would be denying every character its due if I moved on to
the next immediately.
William Dalrymple talks about nine different
characters following different paths but there is a common thread
running through each of these characters, all these characters have immense
faith in life irrespective of the path they have chosen for themselves. And
somewhere on the way all of them have found their share of happiness.
The author takes the reader through the travails of a Jain
nun, a Kannur dancer, a Devadasi, a Rajasthani epic singer, a Sufi, a
Buddhist monk, an Idol maker of Tanjore, a Tantric practitioner, and a
Baul singer.
For example, in the Singers
of Epic chapter he talks about an Epic Singer Mohan Bhopa and his wife
Batasi. While a small part of the story is about Mohan,
rest of the story revolves around the history and evolution of bhopas-the
singers. The detailing and the attention to nuances makes it fascinating.
He has covered the length and breadth of India and
has brought to the fore the stories behind many of those characters whom
we know superficially, the story of their lives we never bothered to find out
because to us they seemed too trivial. Each of these stories shows a different
India, an India caught in a time-wrap, a country where different worlds
co-exist side by side, visible worlds which remain invisible.
The finesse with which he intertwines the story of
practices and the lives of practitioners leaves you mesmerised and you are
simply gripped by the narrative.
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People who got mystified