Book Review | ‘Manjhi’s Mayhem’ is much more than your run-of-the-mill noir

This not only signals that the author has taken on himself to address the hegemony of the English language and a set of people who speak it, and, by virtue of it, get to tell stories but it also addresses a sense of alienability a few Indian readers, including me, often feel while reading a story told in English, placing Manjhi’s Mayhem at the centre of the politics of language and storytelling.

And most importantly, in my view, such a beginning is also an exercise that enriches the language in which it is written, for the fundamental role of a writer is to play with it, renew, and (re)transform it. It further rejoices the readers, for they wholeheartedly welcome a literary potpourri. And Tanuj does it in plentiful ways in telling this story. In a way, it can be said that the book couldn’t have succeeded in the way it does, had it not been written in English.

For example, the author emphasises whether his character means aap or tu because the English "you" doesn’t convey this difference. Or the need to explicitly mention whether the Hindi word mard or aadmi was used for "man". Most noirs don’t trouble themselves with these nuances; they tend to direct efforts into maintaining the mystery.

Tanuj’s genius lies in the fact that he manages to do everything. The book’s narrative engine is so refined that its momentum is self-sustained, and throughout its 200-plus-page journey, it doesn’t ever falter. It has a cast of unforgettable characters, and Tanuj has delved deep into their psyche and peppered evidence throughout the narrative for their unique behaviours.

From the language, we come to the finer details — the second reason. The story’s scribe is Ali, the journalist, who is queer. Noticing his advances, Sewaram says, “I understood him, I really did; it’s tougher living in this world with that kind of want.” Perhaps your cis-het neighbour next door may not empathise this way, but Sewaram does. He has his reasons to, for he’s shunned and considered undesirable because of his caste. There’s a depth that Tanuj has managed to scale while creating Sewaram Manjhi. It shows when he writes that Sewaram is using a bucket while there’s a shower in the bathroom. It reflects when Sewaram thinks about the inside-outside divide standing outside the café and trying to make sense of the scene inside the café through its transparent glass.

Also, one notices that Sewaram is a natural storyteller. The way he describes a commonplace detail is a case in point. Describing his roommate’s snores, he says: “When I was fourteen, my father had taken me to a political rally where I’d been stunned by the air-cutting sound of the politician’s helicopter as it landed on a clean patch of the maidan. Dinesh Jatav was snoring just like that.”

Tanuj also infuses a keenness in Sewaram, too — to learn the ways of the world, to understand how it functions, and in what ways it breaks him apart. The more he gets to know it, the more powerful and unpredictable he becomes. But with each discovery about himself and the world, he doesn’t forget that he is expendable in the larger scheme of things, yet he perseveres. He, who took the path of blood and gore, because of someone else’s “purpose” soon finds it becoming his own. And this purpose lends growth to each character in the book — be it Sewaram, Santosh, her sister Mithilesh, the Uncle, whom Sewaram meets in the Mumbai local, or the goons and defaulters in the story.

This brings us to the third reason why Manjhi’s Mayhem is a unique literary fiction — its accessibility despite dealing with identity, inequality, and contemporary Indian politics. Tanuj’s writing has a deadpan humour, his dialogues are chiselled to perfection, and the understanding on the unpredictable mind of a hunter, a person on vengeance is exceptional. And the Dalit hero shines throughout because of that. Sorry, he’s no anti-hero just because he bashes a few people — that shouldn’t be the moral compass or a barometer to describe the heroic in a character. If Sewaram is anything then he is the sense, taste, and smell of the caste divide in India. He is the one who is wronged each time India’s billionaire count increases. He is what so-called “upper caste” people have excelled in unseeing. But as Tanuj notes — it matters less what the truth is, it’s important what people think about it.