Book: Homeless on Google Earth Writer: Mukul Kesavan Publisher: Permanent Black 314 pages Price: Rs 595 It’s not difficult to imagine Mukul Kesavan as an eye in the sky, mapping political sine waves, sparks of current affairs, the nooks and crannies of personal histories and the air-kisses of social gatherings, to create his own version of the earth that lies below. Much like Google’s version of the planet, his earth, too, allows a journey that turns the dreariness of familiar greens and greys into the excitement of fresh blues and oranges. Kesavan is an acute observer with a keen ear, and has a marvellously well-informed mind that can make connections between disparate events, objects, and people. In another era of literature, this volume of Kesavan’s essays — collected from, for the most part, newspapers and magazines — might have had to compete with the finest essayists in the country for the reader’s attention. That was when the intellect was capable of understanding an argument encompassing more than 140 characters, when the prevailing cerebral climate was not dominated by graceless arrogance, when readers sought new ideas and not validation of their own dogmas. Published now, the collection actually brings those qualities back to the present era of reading, which is normally marked by snacking and skimming. Perhaps because they were written for the mass media, these essays are surprisingly comfortable to wade into. The tone is set in the very first piece, ‘No Place Like Home’, in which Kesavan identifies the rootlessness of the contemporary urban Indian with good humour and compassion, telling the country’s story of language and identity through eternal migrants like his father. With both lucidity and depth, Kesavan demonstrates how tenuous the notion of regional identity is. It is this voice of effortless erudition that all the essays in this volume resonate with. Sometimes, however, the brevity of the essays leaves an argument undeveloped, or an idea underbaked. Moreover, the grouping of the essays under themes might appeal to the information-seeker, but robs whimsy of its due. A less orderly exposition would have been more rewarding for the reader. It is the hallmark of extraordinary essays that they draw the reader into subjects that she or he may not be interested in at all. But by setting expectations early on, and through a deceptively light treatment, every piece in Homeless on Google Earth is worth a read, whether it’s about books or politics, Bollywood or bigotry. Kesavan’s range is enormous, and his assurance about what he is saying is powerful enough to provoke a willing suspension of disbelief. Of course, you may not agree with each of his assertions — indeed, you should not, for then this anthology would have been a middle-of-the-road one that plays it safe to secure universal approval. For instance, you may not side with his argument that Guru Dutt’s films were largely exercises in narcissism. Or that the monsoon is a colonial construct in India. Or with some of his assertions on global geopolitics. But you cannot fail to acknowledge that Kesavan provokes you to think for yourself — not with combative barbs of the kinds some of today’s polemicists excel at — but with a disarming sharpness that almost sneaks up on you. Even in disagreement, he inspires your admiration. What’s the best way to go through this book? Personally, I would be delighted to treat it as a bedside companion, dipping into one or two of the pieces every night. Each is short enough to tempt you to read another one, and another one, but it would be best to distribute the riches over several nights. Read from the beginning to the end, or read at random — or, like me, do both — but stretch it out. Harking back to another era when time flowed slower, these essays demand that you slow down, too, and savour what you read for yourself, instead of rushing to tweet about it. Arunava Sinha is a literary translator
