Tales from the Vertical Sea

And from the first page, I was hooked. Here is this italicised, world-weary (heh heh) voice, speaking to someone named Sambo: ‘‘Yes, this world does exist, as far as I remember. The problem is, I don’t remember where I put it. It’s a shame, I quite liked it. Excellent lighting… Why am I even talking about this world? I don’t remember… perhaps something important was supposed to happen there.

Or not. Just look around for it, won’t you, Sambo? Whatever it was, it was going to be quite amusing.’’

I wonder how much more of the review I can write without giving away all the numerous delights, great and small, of the story. And yet I simply must hint at some of them: there is, first of all, the Alocactus, a plant that lights up when watered; a Chimaera named Nimbupani that says Baa-aa-a when it’s the goat’s turn to roar; a stork named S.P. Gyanasundaram, a rabbit named Steel-Bunz, and an eagle named (heh) Lalmohan. There is also a three-headed innkeeper named Triog with his heads named what else but Rightog, Leftog and Middlog. And at the inn, men named Abhishek — I couldn’t stop giggling at this one — gathered around a table.

The story itself is based on the staple fantasy plot: a Hero, a Quest, a Baddie rakshas, and a couple of two-hundred-year-old prophecies. The difference in 23-year-old Samit Basu’s debut effort is that nothing is quite what it seems, and it’s all rather funny most of the time. The Quest is actually made up of long stretches of time without anything much happening. The rakshas Danh-Gem, as the Head of the world’s richest city tells us firmly, is not to be dismissed as just another Baddie, because don’t you know, it’s simplistic to make such clear distinctions between Good and Evil. And even the Hero seems rather a sissy at first, until we realise that it’s quite possible that he’s not the real Hero at all, and someone else is. And then there’s also the bright young spellbinder named Maya, with her Bridget Jones-like diary entries: ‘‘Muwi-visions acted in 7, New spells learnt several, Warrior skills 3/10, Magic 8/10, Attraction for Asvin don’t know.’’

There’s all this, and more. Through five hundred pages, from the desert named Al-Ugobi to the rising waters of the Vertical Sea, Basu paints a magical landscape. This world is peopled with characters and allusions from Arthurian legend to Alice in Wonderland, from the Indian epics to folk tales and the Feluda stories: and yet it is a wildly original world where sexy Centauresses show off their toned bodies, and where the students at Hero School have bitter debates about whether or not firefighters should be financed by semi-autonomous quasi-public institutions. And as we move across this landscape, sometimes through magical mirrors, sometimes cutting into the earth in a clay rickshaw, we are kept engaged by the light, witty and inventive prose.

It was a blessing that my return flight was delayed too, for I managed to finish reading the book on the way back. The Simoqin Prophecies is an intelligent, inventive delight. It marks the arrival of a fresh and very original voice; and the best news about it is that young Samit Basu is writing a sequel. Bring on the review copies!