A SUITABLE BOY STUMBLES ON HOWLERS

By SHAGORIKA EASWAR

Published in 1993, A Suitable Boy was a door stopper of a book – with 1349 pages, as everyone has been reminded. And that was with densely-set text in a small typeface!

But it quickly captured everyone’s imagination – certainly that of desis, for whom an Indian author writing about Indian families and customs, in English, was a rare gift indeed. At the time. Since then, there has been an explosion of Indian authors writing on every imaginable subject and yet, A Suitable Boy continues to hold its place as one of the best-loved stories.

It was, therefore, cause for much excitement when Mira Nair announced her television series based on the book.

She was quoted as saying: “A Suitable Boy has been one of my favourite novels since the day it was written. I read it repeatedly and felt as if it was my best friend. I felt a sense of great companionship and understanding and a sense of a time in India in which I longed to have lived... It’s an extraordinary tale of love and friendship across class and certainly across religion. Vikram Seth is able to reach the depths of human relationships – the heart, the mind and love in all its peculiarities. It’s universal and affects and relates to everyone... The series gives me this vast canvas as I have 113 actors in the show and six hours to let the story unfold…It’s so full of surprises and rhythms, where things need their time and their pace.”

And that’s exactly what the issue is. Six hours is simply not enough time to develop the themes, or to do them justice.

But with a director of Nair’s calibre bringing a beloved book to life, what could there possibly be not to love?

Well, let me count the ways.

The first hint came in this introductory line in the press release: “A one-of-a-kind UK period drama you will not want to miss. Experience an India never captured before on television in BBC One’s cinematic, highly-watched limited series...”

A UK period drama?

But it’s not, is it? Made in UK by the BBC, sure. But how can a show set in post-independence India, the story of Lata Mehra and her search for love and her family’s search for a suitable boy or husband for her, be a UK period drama? Perhaps because it is like an Indian Pride & Prejudice with anxious mothers and interfering, bossy ladies? Or even more like Sense & Sensibility with a mature older sister guiding an impetuous younger sister?

And so that’s the treatment it gets.

The whole series is shot in a golden glow, all sepia-toned soft lighting, as though seen through a gauze curtain. But the “olden days” didn’t look olden to those who were living them, to them, they had the same heat and dust that the days do today.

And in that heat and dust, we are shown villagers speaking in English! I get that the series is in English, that the characters have to speak in English, but if Mrs Mehra, a Punjabi, can be shown speaking to the jeweller in Bangla, surely the villagers with a throwaway line or two could have spoken in Hindi?

A minister of revenue of Poorv Pradesh with a say in national policies like the abolition of the Zamindari Act? Of course, Vikram Seth might be responsible for that – I am rereading the book to refresh memory, but haven’t gotten that far yet.

The melting of gold medals to make jewellery by Lata’s sister-in-law Meenakshi? Okay, so that boo-boo is most definitely Seth’s. In fact, Mira Nair fixes it somewhat by having Meenakshi exchange both the medals for a pair of earrings. In the book, the jeweller gives her back one, saying one is enough to make earrings as well as a chain. One wonders how, when even Olympic “gold medals” are actually gold-plated silver.

The group of students celebrating after the successful performance of a play break into song and dance – singing Gori gori, baanki chhori. Except that the song is actually Gorey gorey, baankey chhorey.

Lata and her suiters kissing in public? On river banks and on streets? Not something that would ever have happened in real life. This is India of the 1950s we are talking about. Indians did not kiss on the streets. Period. Not when even a generation or two later, moviegoers were treated to scenes of nodding flowers nudging closer in a breeze to depict passion!

This has also caused an ugly controversy about the scenes – raising the spectre of the so-called love jihad. Certain segments in India are protesting against the depiction of a Muslim boy and Hindu girl in love, quite happily disregarding the fact that it is the girl who tries to persuade the boy to elope! That it is the Muslim boy being accused of love jihad who keeps a cool head and implores her to wait until they are more set in their lives.

But all quibbles and controversy aside, there’s tons going for the series. Shot entirely in stunning locations in northern India, including Lucknow and Maheshwar, with impeccable acting from much of the cast, it is a treat to watch.

Ishaan Khatter comes into his own as the lovable, impish, Maan Kapoor, and Tanya Maniktala lights up the screen as Lata Mehra.

Rasika Duggal as Savita Kapoor, Ram Kapoor as Mahesh Kapoor, they are all really good.

And Tabu smoulders as the languorous, experienced courtesan Saeeda Bai.

Raag-Mala Toronto president Mohamed Khaki lays speculation about Saeeda Bai being based on Begum Akhtar to rest:

“There is no doubt in my mind that Seth built his character on her. She was known as Begum Akhtar Faizabadi and Saeeda Bai is Firozabadi. On page 87 of the novel, Maan quotes a Mir couplet (in translation) which she proceeds to sing – Ulti ho gai sab tadbeere – this was one of Begum Akhtar’s most famous ghazals!”

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While on shows set in India, I can’t help but mention Indian Summers on PBS which is so full of holes it’s a miracle it holds together. It originally aired in 2015, but I watched it only recently. The synopsis, written by Channel 4, is as follows:

Set against the sweeping grandeur of the Himalayas and tea plantations of Northern India, the drama tells the rich and explosive story of the decline of the British Empire and the birth of modern India, from both sides of the experience. But at the heart of the story lie the implications and ramifications of the tangled web of passions, rivalries and clashes that define the lives of those brought together in this summer which will change everything. It’s the summer of 1932. India dreams of independence, but the British are clinging to power. In the foothills of the Himalayas stands Simla; a little England where every summer the British power-brokers of this nation are posted to govern during the summer months. 

Except that Indian Summers was shot in Malaysia’s Penang Island. The people involved in location-hunting found actual Shimla too modernized (I agree!), and the homes and buildings in Penang in a colonial time warp, perfectly suited to their needs. But did no one stop to think that around and beyond the beautiful buildings lies lush, tropical greenery that you wouldn’t find in the hills? They would have found much more authentic locales in England itself, had they not been enamoured of the “exotic” angle.

Then they get the timeline all wrong. The show starts in 1932 and moves to “three years later” as the series progresses. So, do the math. 1935? But we get people shouting Jai Hind! That rousing call to action didn’t enter people’s consciousness until Subhash Chandra Bose adopted it in his speeches in the 1940s.

And why were they talking of Mountbatten’s imminent arrival and the Partition of India when he arrived much later, in 1947?

They get the social mores in a class-conscious British India of the early 1900s all wrong, too, with a munshi hobnobbing with the viceroy’s secretary, and even enjoying dinner at the same table as the viceroy himself.

They get much of the main cast from England, including Julie Walters, Roshan Seth (brilliant as the Parsi father Darius Dalal) and Ayesha Kala (who is great as Sooni), and a few from India like Lillete Dubey, but pick the supporting cast and everyone in the background from local actors in Malaysia. So you get people who can’t speak Hindi, pretending to be North Indians in Shimla, people who don’t look or dress like any Himachali I’ve ever laid eyes on. British actor Nikesh Patel gives a power-packed performance as Aafrin Dalal, but again, unfortunately, doesn’t look the part. Parsis have very distinct features and Patel just doesn’t fit the bill. And weirdly enough, he and his siblings refer to their dad as Bapi - something only Bengalis do, as far as I know.

Two girls invited to perform a “local” dance do a version of Bharatanatyam and a hooch joint has Tamil songs playing.

There’s even a home called Chotipool. Which, a cast member helpfully translates for us. It means small flower, she says. Except that while an Englishwoman might have pronounced it like that, anyone who knows the language would have said chhota phool, but they even have Chotipool engraved on the gatepost to make their point!

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So watch A Suitable Boy for old times, watch it for the beautiful clothes, haunting music and brilliant acting. And skip Indian Summers, unless you want to lose a few evenings exclaiming, “Whaaat? No!”

Hours much better spent, perhaps, rereading A Suitable Boy.

A Suitable Boy debuts in Canada on Acorn TV on December 7 with two episodes, followed by weekly episodes through January 4, 2021.