Banter and bonhomie

Reading Cappuccino Dusk, you might be forgiven for thinking that it is on the whole better for Bengalis to stay in Bengal, rather than taking the train to Bombay. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that debutant novelist Basu doesn’t do justice to the Calcutta Mumbai move; au contraire, she describes in lengthy detail the myriad quirks of the Bombay bound passengers aboard the Gyaneshwari Express.

We are, in fact, treated to a lengthy and loving description of the peripatetic stars of this family story – the Banerjees. We learn that newspaper editor brother Soubroto detests both maidens and Muslims, that eldest daughter Bonny is fat and a feminist to boot, and that Mishti is unlike her sloppy elder sister Bonny, in that she is totally appearance obsessed. Brother Siddharth is, in deference to the communist Bengali psyche, an alternative architect in the making. The radical nature of the occupants notwithstanding, the banter and bonhomie in the Banerjee household is real enough, and the household spends hours in cosy camaraderie. Indeed one is reminded in their rambunctious revelry of another delightfully eccentric family, that of a certain island ensconced clan. These are no idle comparisons; that Ms. Basu is a Gerald Durrell fan becomes clear, early on, when in a swift and unsentimental development, the father of the family Prannoy Banerjee is quickly killed off, leaving affectionate and ineffectual mom Ira Banerjee with a large brood of very noisy children.

Sadly though A502 Pushpa Milan, where the family dwells, is no Corfu. And the only animals one encounters are lonely rich boy Mustafa and Dibyendu, the terribly accented Bong cousin. Later on, in the plot, Ms. Basu does somewhat compensate for this absence of beastly company through the introduction of Maltesh, who joins Subroto’s newspaper as a cartoonist. Maltesh has a menagerie, to wit a gecko, a guinea pig and a goldfish. He has a story too – a lonely and orphaned childhood. There’s more to come in this story, and Maltesh will, in the concluding chapters of Cappuccino Dusk discover an uncanny relation.

Besides this story, which is a sub plot of sorts, there is Subroto’s own journey. The eldest son of the Banerjee’s must grapple with his own prejudices, and deal with his problem of writers block. And what’s worst, he must, misogynist as he is, deal with his feeling for the peppy new recruit at the newspaper – Malathi Iyer.

All in all, there is a lot happening. More so, if you count the budding romances and the additional sub plot of Sid and his architectural college.

Sadly though, none of it really comes together. At no point do you find yourself as a reader turning the pages of Cappuccino Dusk in bated breath; will Sid get his scholarship or will daughter of Head Professor get it ? Will Bonny get married? Will Subroto lose his hatred for women? Will Mustafa overcome prejudices against Muslims and live happily ever after?

And then there’s the shock denouement; I won’t give it away, but it did appear suddenly, as if out of a hat. Nothing in the book leads up to that particular conclusion. Certainly it left me feeling extremely dissatisfied. But then again, perhaps life is like that.

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