CHAPTER IV

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED: KAVERY NAMBISAN’S The Truth (Almost)

about Bharat

The previous chapter discusses the various aspects of campus novel in Prema

Nandakumar’s Atom and the Serpent. The present chapter takes up Kavery

Nambisan’s novel, The Truth (Almost) about Bharat to examine various

manifestations of campus life from the point of view of a student. The Truth

(Almost) about Bharat is about a medical student named Bharat who is running

away from the imposed and inescapable realities of his life. The story is

narrated in the voice of the nineteen year old Bharat, who in the course of his

journey, goes on discovering many aspects of truth about himself and also about

his nation Bharat. The novel is full of picaresque humour which is served with

an undertone of sadness.

The protagonist gives a glimpse of his life on the campus by introducing

his friends to the readers. Shanks or Shanker is also a medical student and is
friend and advisor to Bharat. He is the son of an MP. Bharat admires and envies

Shanks for his good looks and for his popularity among girls:

Shanks is the handsomest creature you ever saw in Delhi and that’s

saying a lot because Delhi has a million hunks all over the place. Guys

with Anil Kapoor smiles, guys with Sylvester Stallone shoulders, guys

with Schwarzenneger thighs, Killer Khan hips and Vinod Khanna sex

appeal. But Shanks beats the lot because besides being the only macho

brute who can squeeze his assets into tight, tight pants and not look

obscene, he’s bursting with common sense. His brain moves faster than

the gossip in the Girls’ Hostel. (5)

The narrator says that although Shanker is an MP’s son, his popularity has

nothing to do with his pedigree:

Shanks rattled his plastic cup against the chair and Srini appeared with

the aluminium kettle and poured Shanks his third cup of tea. We are

allowed only a cup each but for Shanks the rules are different. He can get

what he wants. He’s popular because of himself, not because he’s a

goddamn MP’s son. (3)

Another close friend of Bharat on the campus is Rishi who is an engineering

student. He is described as a mathematical genius who is mostly engrossed in

computers and quizzes:

Rishi’s from Engineering College, which happens to be on the same

campus as the Medical College. We share the hostel and the Mess and the
 Board of Directors. Naturally, we know the Engineering guys well and

Rishi’s my best pal, next to Shanks....Rishi usually has nothing more

important to say than what he’s just read in PC World about computer

viruses or about the fantastic quiz he’s sent to Mindsport Mukul. Rishi’s a

smart-ass- a mathematical genius with a brain like a microchip- but he’s a

better listener than a talker. (4)

Another prominent character among students on the campus is Vidyasagar or

Vidya, the College Secretary. Bharat who detests Vidya describes him in the

following words:

He’s honey-sweet and horrid. And he’s got problems-like his obsession

for neatness. While every student keeps his room in a pleasant disarray,

Vidya’s is like a deluxe suite at Le Meridien: curtains and pictures on the

wall, flowers in pots, table-covers, chair cushions and the room reeking of

some crazed- out- deodorant. And he’s born with this evil gift of sucking

students. He does it smilingly, obligingly, painlessly-by renting his room

to any student whose parents suddenly arrive and demand to see the

hostel. Vidya’s room is borrowed at five rupees an hour and he’ll even

oblige with a picture of a suitable deity if the parents are the religious

sort. The very night the parents leave, still stunned by their son’s

godliness, Vidya knocks on the victim’s door, smiles his beautiful smile

and says, ‘Pay up or interest doubles in a week.’ That’s why he’s called

Vidya Macchad. (6)

Bharat who does not approve of the cunning and hypocritical nature of Vidya

reflects that unscrupulous people like Vidya have better chances of surviving

and thriving in the corrupt system of the country:

Vidya is the most unpopular guy on the campus, that’s why he’s been

elected College Sec for the third year running. I am sure the sweet the

sweet bastard will become Health Minister one day and succeed

gloriously in keeping things botched. (7)

The story starts in the Mess Hall, about which the narrator says: "Most

important events begin in the great big Mess Hall. Here we line-maro dames,

challenge each other's superiority in Sexademics and occasionally talk of noble

causes like the plight of the mess staff" (8). Bharat and Shanks were sitting in

the Mess when Rishi brings the news that the Mess workers get a meagre pay of

three hundred a month and they have been complaining about it to the Board

since long:

‘Guess what happened at the Mess Committee meeting last night?’....Of

course we didn’t try guessing, so he told us: ‘The Mess boys have been

complaining about their pay, man. They get a measly three hundred a

month.’... ‘They’ve been sending petitions to the Board for over a year,

asking for five, with annual increments. Nothing’s come of it. Last

night’s meeting, Vidya broached the point with CP. CP said the Board’s

planning to give them a twenty- rupee raise, starting six months from

now. The stingy bastard.’ (4)

Bharat, Shanks and Rishi daringly decide to take up the cause of the Mess boys

in the Annual College function by presenting to the Board of Directors a

petition signed by all the students: “Shanks said: ‘We’ll get all the guys to sign

a petition and we’ll give it to the Board at the Annual Function. They’ll have to

do something’” (6).They also decide that they would go on a hunger strike if the

Board turned down the petition.

The task of handing over the petition is assigned to Bharat. Although Bharat is

reluctant to do so yet he is forced to take up this responsibility by Shanker:

‘There’s this small problem,’ I said. ‘I’m the M.C. and I’m not all that

ecstatic about handing over this petition or anything.’ Shanks grinned.

‘Come on, Tarzan! Rishi and I’ll give you moral support. And as a

special fevour, I’ll lend you my T-shirt for the occasion.’...I firmly

declined Shank’s offer and declared that I wasn’t keen to hand over the

petition. Shanks said: ‘Yaar, Tarzan, I knew it, you’re a prince. Let’s

clinch it with Vidya and get the words down.’ That’s how, with six

months to go before the Final MB exams, I got my neck on the chopping-

board. (8)

The novelist amusingly points out that when the students take up the cause of

the poorly paid mess workers of the college they do not do it out of missionary

zeal. Rather they sit on hunger strike because it was a welcome change from

their mundane college routine:

 The day after the College Function, fever-pitch feelings triggered off a

hunger strike. We sat in front of the Mess hall beneath a banner that

shouted: Don’t Bite The Hands That Feed Us. Six hours of pure joy.

Jokes and wisecracks (uncensored) flowed fast and furious. Mushairas,

limericks and couplets were instantly created and tossed about until we

were tipsy with words... (12)

Bharat further gives out the most important reason for the students’ extensive

and enthusiastic participation in the strike:

Don't ask why the students pitched in with such passion to help the Mess

staff. It was a chance maybe, to attack Evil (in the guise of CP, TV and

the fat- assed Board). Also, a rare opportunity to spice our mundane

College lives. College life is grim if you really look at it.First Year's

okay, you sail through on euphoria. Second Year on, the grind starts-

especially for us medics. Every day of every week of every year there's

something depressing to get used to: formalin fumes burning the eyes,

merciless, monotonous Monday tests burning the brain, fear of Monday

tests burning the stomach, foul smelling cadaver mouths and the

combined smell of antiseptic, urine, pus, body odour and death that

makes you retch in your sleep until you get used to everything and stop

caring about smell and suffering and death. That's the worst part. The fact

that you stop caring. The Mess boys’ dilemma came like a wiff of oxygen
 but the fact is none of us had much experience in long-term hunger. (12-

13)

At the function, after the Chief Guest finished his speech, Shanks comes on to

the stage and requests the Dean and the Board to consider revising the mess

workers' salaries. When the Board refuses to consider the proposal, Rishi

declares hunger strike:

I presented copies of the petition to the Dean and the Board. Things

happened after that. CP conferred with the others, then he took the mike

and said that the students had come to study, not involve themselves in

administrative matters. The Mess staff had no business trying to win

sympathy from the students. The Board considered the matter closed.

What I did next was the cause of everything else after that. I grabbed the

mike from CP’s hands and said it wasn’t fair to ignore the petition. The

Mess staff had been treated unjustly and we were forced to speak for

them. Thumping cheers from the audience. Then Rishi surprised

everyone by jumping on the stage. ‘If the petition is ignored we’ll go on

strike’ he shouted. The word was dynamite. As soon as Rishi jumped on

stage and shouted the magic word the mood of the students sparked and

exploded. (11)

Because of all the chaos and commotion, the two colleges were declared closed

for a week and Bharat, Shanks and Rishi were suspended from their colleges.

During the hunger strike students started throwing stones at staff cars. The stone
that Bharat throws at Aloknath during the strike, by mistake, hits and gravely

injures Shafruddin, the popular and much loved chowkidar of the college:

I picked up a stone: I can still feel its coldness, its cragginess, and its

weight. I remember wiping its dust off on my pant, tightening my fingers

round it, lifting my arm in a slow steady spinner’s arc, my eyes focusing

on Egg Head and everything else going softly out of focus. I can still feel

the tension that built up in my pectorals, my latissimus, my triceps, my

biceps and the gathering momentum of my arm as the stone swung free

and propelled forward to bull’s-eye the target. Then, just then, at the

precise moment, poor blinking Shafu shuffled forward, and the stone

smashed his skull. (75-6)

Because of this incident, Bharat is subsumed by self-reproach and being unable

to live down the culpability, he admits to himself: “Since that moment when

(with a spinner’s dead-eye aim) I beaned Shafu in the head, I’ve bowled myself

out. Stated simply- I’m a coward who ran away from the scene of crime. Fact is,

I can black-out from the world but I can’t black-out from myself” (76). This

guilt-trip becomes one of the main reasons for Bharat’s leaving his home and

taking up the journey. The other factors that instigate him to leave home are his

parents’ incompatible rapport and his heartbreak over the closeness between his

girlfriend Neelam and his best friend Shanks. He is devastated when he sees

Neelam getting intimate with his friend Shanks at a party. Already shaken by
the incident at college, Bharat is unable to control himself and hits Shanks,

thereby injuring him:

I stumbled towards the table to grab another drink and saw Neelam sitting

cosily on the dhurrie with Shanks. Very, very cosy. They were laughing

their heads off about some stupid joke and they were just not bothered

that I was standing there, inches away from them. I can’t completely

remember what I did next. All I remember is grabbing Shanks’ iron

shoulders and sort of hauling him up; I remember socking him in the jaw,

in the stomach and in his handsome face; then I gripped his right hand

and bent the fingers and thumb back, back, back- until I heard the bones

crack. (28)

Finally, after much consideration and making sense of the wild stream of

thoughts in his mind, Bharat decides to leave his home and embarks on a

journey of finding self:

Next morning I had made up my mind. I’d get the hell out of home for a

bit and sort out my inner switch board that was so badly tangled, it had

red alarm lights flashing all over the place. I hadn’t even begun to worry

about being suspended from College and screwing up my, until-now,

bright future because I had something infinitely more horrible to worry

about. (32)

He confesses to himself:
 I was no smart-ass zooming off into the wild world to do great, wise,

wonderful things although, to tell you the truth, I did imagine myself as

something of a smart-ass. Trouble is, living with people. It always creates

problems and no matter how hard I try, I seem to land in Shit Creek. If

I’m left alone I can be a damn near perfect person like Gandhi or Buddha

or Christ or Yudhishtira. (39)

On his way, he changes his original plan of riding to Agra, and instead decides

to go to Gwalior: “All I wanted was a temporary black-out from the world I

lived in. I wanted to beat the hell out, fast. Before I set off on Gwalior Road, I

stopped and wrote a postcard to my mother saying I’d decided to travel beyond

Agra, not to worry” (39). The first of Bharat’s experiences involves his

encounter with a Chambal dacoit, Bhojvi Singh, at a dhaba at Lalithankapur.

Bhojvi Singh is at first mistaken for a police inspector by Bharat, but he later

learns about his true identity from the dhaba-woman who tells Bharat that

Bhojvi is a Robin Hood like figure who works for the welfare of the poor:

‘Bhojvi has formed a gang of twenty-two men and they’re very

disciplined. They only rob people with more than a million rupees, they

never harass women or children, they do not rob villagers. Bhojvi lets his

men go to Gwalior once a month for pleasures. But Bhojvi has denied

himself everything. He’s the dispenser of justice. Prince among men. He

has the most clever ways of punishing people.’ (43)

She futher tell Bharat that Bhojvi had become an escapee after taking vengeance

of his sister’s rape and murder:

‘...his only sister was married to the son of a sarpanch in Pawa. Six

months later the husband began to harass her for more dowry and he

finally allowed five of his friends to rape her. Then he and his friends

murdered and buried her in the backyard of his house. Bhojvi filed a case

and pleaded with big afsars in Delhi and Bhopal to help but nothing

happened. Even his own brother, the police officer, couldn’t do anything

about it. So he decided that instead of guarding the President and bowing

to behen-chud politicians, he would avenge his sister’s death. He stole an

AK-47 and went to Pawa and finished the six men. After that he had no

choice but to escape to the ravines.’ (43)

Bharat spends the night in Bhojvi Singh’s tent, where Bhojvi advices him to

finish his education first:

I explained why I was there in that village and he listened, staring at me

with unblinking eyes. ‘Arre- akalmand, don’t you want to be a doctor?’

he said. ‘I want to travel first.’ ‘Zara socho, bhai, Dactri-log get so much

izzat. Don’t cut your legs. Become a doctor first, then you can travel.’

(42)

When Bharat refuses to budge from his decision, Bhojvi Singh leaves some

money for him with the dhaba-woman, to help him in his journey:
 She pressed her hand down on her thigh to heave herself up from the

charpoy, then she lifted a jug of water, and pulled out a wad of notes

tucked under it.‘He left this for you. He told me a dozen times, “‘Tell the

boy to go back and finish his studies.”’ She looked puzzled. ‘I don’t

know why he’s doing this for you. He has even paid for your daal,

parantha, dinner, chai and charpoy.’ (44)

Bharat is so impressed and indebted with Bhojvi Singh’s personality and

generosity that he decides to meet him again. He finally finds Bhojvi Singh’s

camp and is appointed as the resident doctor for his gang. He also eventually

earns Bhojvi Singh’s goodwill by curing his mother who was suffering from

lice related problem which was driving her insane. Pondering over the dramatic

change that has taken place in his life in such a short span of time, Bharat says:

The spice fumes had fogged my senses and just a microcosm of my brain

was aware of reality. Just a few days ago I was a yuppie doc-on-the-

make, dreaming dreams nobody could touch, with nowhere to head but

up, up, up. Now, here I was, sitting triumphantly among a group of

bhagis, earning accolades for washing seven metres of lice-ridden hair.

(53)

When Bharat finally decides to leave the camp and move on with his journey,

Bhojvi Singh advices him: “‘Remember this. Learn to be good and cunning.

Whatever the profession, if you’re not good and cunning, all your knowledge is
no better than cowdung’” (59). A biting satire is directed towards the Indian law

and jurisdiction when talking about his brother Bhojvi Singh says: “‘You think

a police afsar can afford a Maruti van and holidays in Simla and Goa like that

saala? Karan has the future of half-a-dozen ministers squeezed inside the

pockets of his tight trousers. But in his eyes I can see envy and shame when he

looks at me’” (59).

After his three week stay in Chambal, Bharat reaches Gwalior. There he checks-

in into a sleazy and cheap lodge and since he had nothing better to do, he just

sits in his room and ponders over the deeper realities of life:

I killed the whole day just sitting around. I can think clearly in hotel

rooms. I thought of all sorts of serious, profound things like Death,

Drugs, Wars, World Hunger and the meaninglessness of words chained

into phrases nobody dares disbelieve. I can’t think such stuff for long if

there’s no person to talk it out with. (62)

In the same lodge, Bharat meets Trilok Padmavathi Shastri, an eccentric yet

sincere politician, who fights for the rights of women, children and animals and

is of the opinion that the children and animals should be made silent

representatives in the parliament:

‘Children and animals should be made silent representatives in

Parliament,’ he said stuffing his pamphlets into two big pillow-cases. ‘I

say that for every session in this Sabha or that, send two school children,

a dog, a cow, a chicken and maybe a mongoose or a deer to attend

 Parliament, so that when Parliament Members, Ministers and the Prime

Minister go bak, bak, bak, they’ll remember that every programme, every

grandiose plan, will affect the children more than the old fogeys, and that

animals have as much right to live in comfort as human beings.’...‘People

call me eccentric just because I’m trying to make humans less human.

Therein lies our salvation, bhai. We must learn from animals. You don’t

agree? Animals are loaded with common sense, especially wild ones.

Does a deer count calories or a monkey go on a diet? Ever seen an

overweight tiger or cow or camel unless it’s force-fed by humans?

What’s the crime rate among elephants, rabbits and rhino-do they need

frauds, thugs, pimps and prostitutes?’ (65)

Trilok Padmavathi Shastri takes Bharat to his election rally where he was

expecting a huge turnout of people, but unfortunately only twenty people came

to listen to his speech. After they return to the lodge, he gave Bharat a T-shirt

with ‘POWER TO THE OPPRESSED’ imprint. This episode clearly indicated

that for surviving and succeeding in Indian politics one must not harbour

idealistic notions and ideas.

On his way to Bangalore, Bharat goes through a newspaper and mulls over the

insensitive and hard-hearted approach that the Indians are inculcating, which

has made them indifferent towards the social issues that require immediate

attention:
 I read political news only if it’s something mind-blowing. Except for the

sports page, there is nothing cheery about papers either. ‘Farmer Kills

Wife,’ ‘Unwed Girl Commits Suicide,’ ‘Bus Overturns in Rudraprayag,

Kills Twenty-seven’. Everyone I know who reads a newspaper does it to

pass time, and not because they care about unwed girls committing

suicide or wife-killing farmers or buses that fall into the Ganga. They just

want some titillating news like that to stir their juices while they drink

their coffee or tea or whatever. Then they’re back to their boring lives and

everything that they’ve read before is forgotten. (67-8)

Subsequently from Banglore, Bharat decides to head towards Mysore and stays

there for one month. He is fascinated by Mysore because despite of being the

city of Maharajas, this place according to him was free of pretensions. A

significant aspect of Bharat’s personality hence comes to forth when he chooses

Mysore as his next stoppage. His distaste for pretension is further reflected

when while thinking of Aloknath he is filled with contempt:

As I sat there that day, worrying about my future, I saw a sign that said

Aloknath jewellers in blinking green neon lights above a shop across the

road. I looked away quickly but the name Aloknath stuck in my mind.

Reason being, Aloknath is the name of a super-duper A-1 surgeon in our

Medical College hospital. Aloknath’s a genius. He can tackle a vagotomy

GJ in twenty minutes flat and an AP resection (both ends) in an hour.

Aloknath is a demigod. Cool as kulfi. He doesn’t get ruffled or tired,

 doesn’t get snappy, doesn’t get sweat circles on his blue OT shirt at the

end of a fourteen- hour operating day....I used to think he was one hell of

a dedicated person but now I know he does it only so people think he’s

dedicated. Truth about most surgeons is they’re the world’s greatest

show-offs. That’s why an Operating Room is called a Theatre. Surgeons

are so damn theatrical. You, may think I’m jealous, I’m not. I’ve no

desire to be a goddamn, smarmy surgeon. I refuse to prostitute myself to

work. I’m going to be a GP in Paharganj. (73-4)

In Mysore itself, Bharat runs out of money and catches malaria and gets

admitted in Dr. Franklin Raghunath Rao’s clinic as a charity case. Eventually

Dr. Rao appoints Bharat on ad-hoc in his clinic. His resolve of becoming a GP

in Paharganj is further strengthened when Dr. Rao tells him about his struggle

story:

‘Y’know-I'd set my heart on being a surgeon, had the marks for it but

they denied me a P.G. seat because I wasn't the type to open the car door

for the Professor or buy vegetables for his wife or wear the same type of

tie and shoes that the professor wears. So I trained myself. Worked three

years in a government hospital and learnt many things I learnt that

surgeons are a mean species who cut their patients according to their

cash. Some get princely treatment, others carved like horse meat. I learnt

to trust my patients, myself, my books and nothing else. I’m good

because I know I’m good. Get it?’ (95)

Once when Dr. Rao is away, Bharat gets to visit one of his patients- Mrs.

Myers, who reads poetry to her dead husband, sitting by his grave:

Mrs. Myers asked me to sit in one of the two chairs and she sat on the

other, quite calm, as if it was the most usual thing in the world to have

one’s husband’s grave in the back lawn. She had four books on her lap.

She opened one and began to read ‘Andrea Del Sarto’ by Robert

Browning. Her voice became soft and young as she read. Her dentures

didn’t click, her hands didn’t tremble. She read ‘The Lotus Eaters’, the

murder scene from Julius Ceasar and then a passage from Kahlil

Gibran’s The Prophet. (91)

Their eternal bond of love makes Bharat reflect on his own parents’ miserable

marital relationship: “I went to bed that night thinking of George and Mary

Myers. If the couple can read poetry to each other even one year after they’re

married, they’re lucky. Talk about reading poetry to a dead husband. Most

couples I know just manage to put up with each other” (92).

Bharat’s next significant stop is Kerala where he meets Rajee and falls in love

with her. They sit on the beach together and he shares with her his experiences

and misadventures:

I told her again of my yuppie dreams being dashed to the ground when

I’d landed in a mess after the strike for the Mess boys, of my stone hitting

Shafu, of Vidya, hand on my back, saying: ‘Don’t worry, no one will

know.’ And Neelam’s butter-softness that drove me nuts and drove me to

 break Shanks thumb. Of Ma’s mile-long sermons and the feel of Shafu’s

spit on my face that filled me with guilt and cowardice and made me

leave home. Of Bhojvi’s death-dealing lifeless arms, of female sadhus

and women who sell their souls to godmen. Of Appa’s flood pants, Ma’s

kajal eyes and magenta lips and Ajji’s til chutney. Of Rishi’s sexless

world and Shanks’ sexed-up one. Hasmukh’s army- green face before the

RD puke, Shafu’s marvellous teeth, the smell of thirty thousand nearly

dead chickens, and the barber snipping hairs from VIP nostrils. I talked

till I had nothing more to say. (117)

He appreciates that Rajee listens to his talks with utmost sincereity:

I told her about Bhojvi Singh and his scorpions. About T.P.S., Dr. Frank,

Mary and George Myers. About Mysore bondas and ‘by-two’ coffees.

About the hockey player who hung himself. About thirty thousand

chickens dying in a lorry. Rajee is the world’s greatest listener. Most girls

only pretend to listen. I’ll be saying some serious profound stuff to a girl

and she will be busy patting her curls or adjusting her dupatta. But

Rajee’s different. (114)

For Bharat, Rajee was the perfect amalgamation of idealism and practicality. He

feels himself drawn towards her and could feel the transformation within

himself:

Everyday for ten days we sat on the beach beneath the palm and talked,

while Ammu chased gulls, fish glinted like gold upon the sand and
 fishermen with burning bodies dragged the boats ashore. Every evening

when I walked away, I felt myself changed irrevocably. I didn’t know

how or why or for what. A part of my mind was cleaning itself out, neatly

arranging thoughts and answers to questions and mapping out an unseen

chart for my future. (114)

Rajee suggests Bharat the right things and provides him with much needed

practicality by giving him honest and straightforward feedback on various

issues. For instance she advices him to return home and complete his studies,

instead of running away from reality:

Rajee was convinced that I should go back home without wasting time.

She pestered me everyday. I tried to talk of other things and hoped she

would forget but she never did. ‘Why you are wasting your life like this?’

she asked me. ‘I’m not wasting my life. I’m trying to discover myself,’ I

said. ‘What you can find? Going from here to there. Become a doctor and

you will find everything.’ I knew she was right. I knew I had to go back. I

had to become a doctor and practise in Paharganj. (115)

Convinced by Rajee’s words, Bharat decides to take her leave but promises to

return with the intention of proposing marriage to her:

Rajee was waiting for me. I sat by her side, opened the leaf packet and

took out the flowers. I shook the drops of water off and held it out to her.

‘Let me put it in your hair,’ I said. Rajee took the flowers from my hands

before I could touch her. ‘I am going Rajee,’ I said, ‘I’ll ride along the
 coast a bit, maybe upto Ernakulam and then I’ll go back. But I’ll be

seeing you again in a few days,’ ‘Why?’ ‘I have to tell you something.’

‘Tell what?’ ‘You’ll know when I get back. Three days. I’ll be back in

three or four or five days.’ (118)

On his way back, Bharat meets Shanks, who was on his lookout, and is relieved

to hear that Shafu is alive and out of danger:

‘How’s Shafu?’ I asked. Shanks didn’t hear me. So I shouted, ‘HOW’S

SHAFU?’ Shanks had just bitten into a nail cooked in his parantha. It was

quite a generous-sized, rusty nail. He removed it calmly from his mouth

and placed it on the side of his plate. ‘Shafu? Why?’ I swallowed some

water to moisten my vocal cords. ‘His head injury...?’ ‘That.’ Shanks

rolled half a parantha over a piece of fish and scooped it into his mouth

with gravy. ‘It got all right, he went back to work after fortnight or

something. What’s wrong, Tarzan? You don’t like the fish curry, pass it

up.’ ‘I like it! I love it!’ I ordered another plate of fish curry with two

paranthas and glutted my relief. (121-2)

Now he gets back to Tellicherry to meet Rajee and propose marriage to her. But

he is shocked and devastated to learn that she is already married:

For two days I went to the beach and waited, but Rajee did not come. Nor

did Ammu. Then, on the third day, I saw Rajee beneath the coconut palm.

I walked as casually as I could so she wouldn’t guess my heart was doing

handsprings and headstands. She had the baby on her lap. ‘I didn’t think
 you’d come,’ she said. So I told her, very calmly, that I loved her and

wanted to marry her. She listened. Her left knee moved up and down,

dandling the baby. ‘How can you say such a thing? Bharat-I’m married.

This is my baby.’ (126)

On the journey back to his home, Bharat reflects on his encounter with Rajee

and its significance and impact on his life:

The world had suddenly gone quiet, lost its momentum and my heart was

slowly shattering in a thousand pieces; it wasn’t self pity- that would

have been disrespect to Rajee-but a quiet, helpless rage. If the most

wonderful things in life had to end like this, why did they begin? Or was

this the beginning that Rajee had been preparing me for? I wish I’d asked

her. (127-8)

His experiences and learnings of the four months, makes Bharat mature and

wise. He decides to correct his past mistakes by resolving his differences with

the College authorities and resuming his education: “We left the camp the next

day and rode all the way to Delhi. We decided we’d placate our parents first,

then go to College. I went home, hot, dusty and hungry. At the sound of Blue

Bird, Appa opened the door” (129). At home he is informed by his father that

his mother could no longer bear the pain of the loss of her son combined with

the burden of carrying the twenty years of irreconcilable married life:

 ‘Let’s sit in the front room,’ Appa said, and I followed. ‘Shobu went.’

Appa said abruptly. ‘Went?’ ‘Agra.’ Appa kept on talking although

Sakaldev was loitering behind the curtain of the dining-room, listening.

‘We had-an argument when I came back last week.’ His grey eyes

focused on me. ‘I didn’t know Shobu was so unhappy. She was worried

to death about you.’ ‘I wrote to her, Appa. I sent her a postcard-‘ ‘She is

your mother, dammit! A postcard! Did you think of her plight when she

got your postcard?’ (131)

Bharat realises his mistake and feels guilty for being the reason of the

consequences his family was facing and admits to himself:

I hadn’t of course. Ma alone in the house reading my card. Not knowing

where I had gone, when I’d be back. With no one for her to share her

worries about Bharat beta with. The ‘only son’ poised for glory, takes a

nose-dive into nowhere and leaves his mother alone in her grief. Tarzan,

you creep. (131)

He also reflects back on his journey of finding self and on what all he has lost

and gained in the process:

The burden of my problems had ricocheted on my parents while I was

escaping scot-free. Knocked on the head by College superiors, knocked

down hell-hole by Neelam’s rejection, cleansed by Shafu’s spit, humbled

 by Bhojvi’s goodness, stunned senseless by the three-wife doctor, and-

and-purified by the greatest listener, I felt like a new person. I was all set

to zoom off, full-throttle, into the future. I was purged. But I’d ruined my

parent’s marriage in the process. (132-3)

Bharat who is now a more mature and responsible version of his earlier self and

who during his journey has witnessed various shades of life, feels, that his

parents marriage still stands a chance. So he along with his father leaves for

Agra the very next day to get his mother back:

Hopefully, the marriage wasn’t a gone-case or anything. It was full of

creases, that’s all, and it needed ironing out. Like the saris Venkatesh

smoothed out everyday in his Maruti boot of a cubbyhole. I made up my

mind to help my parents iron out their marriage. ‘Let’s go to Agra and

talk to Ma,’ I said. Shanks and I were to grease up CP and apologize but

that could wait another day. ‘We’ll go by the Taj in the morning,’ I said,

making the decision. (133)

This turns out to be an introspective journey for Bharat at the end of which he

finds himself to be a changed person- one who remains optimistic and

untouched by the pressures and demands of everyday realities:

We had seats facing the opposite way-towards Delhi-so it felt as if we

were speeding backwards into Agra. Speeding backwards into the future.
 Trees, houses, slums, shacks and writing-on-walls sped past with reckless

glee, mocking my fears. I wanted to grab those moving objects and tell

them I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid. But they sped past before I could

even look at them. There is a poem of Hasmukh’s about the past being

more real than the future. The past is in front of us, as clear a picture as

we want it to be. The binding reality of our past is the only reality. The

future is a dream, a longing. Even the present is unreal until it becomes

the past. Hasmukh says it all in three lines. About settling back into the

future, about having faith in what we cannot see. It kind of made sense.

(133)

The novel not just highlights the truth about the protagonist but also about his

nation-Bharat. Bharat, who is a sensitive soul gets disturbed and despondent

because of the corruption and miseries prevalent in his country. But the various

experiences that he gains in the course of his journey across the country, makes

him realize that just getting infuriated about these issues is not enough. One has

to try and make an effort to bring about positive changes in the country. He

realizes that all the philosophy is of no use unless one brings them to practical

use. All his experiences and wisdom makes him realize little known truths about

himself as well. He comes face to face with the hidden facets of his personality

which eventually leads him to have a better understanding of self. He ends up

feeling like a changed man towards the end of his journey. He becomes more

sure and confident about himself after letting go of all his fears and guilt.

The novel provides a detailed description of the campus life, subsuming

elements like campus, hostel life, routine of students, their interests, their topics

of discussions, their mess and their hunger strike. The novel completely focuses

on students’ mentality, their behaviour and lifestyle which is convincingly

depicted through various episodes in the novel. Providing a realistic description

of hostel life, the novel gives a sneak-peek in the life of a hosteller. For

instance, describing the disorderliness and mess in Shanks' room, Bharat says:

Rishi threw us out of his room so Shank’s room was the only choice. The

trouble is getting in and out of Shank’s room. You've got to step over

Kolhapuris, Cherry Blossom, dirty socks, tabla and old mags to reach the

bed which is the only place where you can sit, if you move aside Maha

Cola bottles, toothpaste, Kohinoors and other essentials. (19)

Further, giving description of the daily routine of the hostellers’, Bharat says:

Hostelites are not always so degenerate. They are a disciplined lot for

about two hundred and ninety days in a year. Every morning, the six S's

(shit, shag, shave, shower, shine and smile) are solemnly followed like

Brahmin rituals and at precisely a quarter to nine a sea of pant-shirted

clones marches into the Mess Hall, silently masticates its breakfast of

bread, butter, jam, egg and coffee and then proceeds to college in the

pursuit of knowledge. (17)

Another aspect of campus life dealt with in the novel is examination, which is

an integral part of every students' life. Bharat describes Rishi's anxiety and

examination-phobia in the following words:

You can bet your last rupee that two days before the exams he'll begin to

wheeze. His chest gets so bad, it sounds like a bleeding milk boiler when

you put your steth to it. Shanks and I do the works: give him steam

inhalations, rub him down with Vicks, give Deriphylline and take turns to

watch his breathing in case he croaks. Every time when the exams are

over, Rishi's wheezing stops. (97-8)

The novel also describes the impulsive habit of college students of taking up

foolhardy challenges by an incident where Shanks is given the challenge to

swallow a piece of muscle cut from a corpse's thigh in Anatomy Hall and he

takes up the challenge for mere thirty rupees:

If you really want to know the type of guy Shanks is, listen to this: A

deadly dull afternoon in Anatomy Hall. First M.B. We are dissecting the

four layers of the sole of the foot. I’m not kidding, the sole of the foot has

four blinking layers of muscles, each muscle with a name as long as Ma’s

sermons. That afternoon some guy challenged Shanks to swallow a piece

of muscle. For thirty bucks. Shanks said he’d do it. He’d swallow a piece

of formalin-soaked, dead muscle for thirty measly rupees. When the

lecturer nipped out for coffee, Shanks cut a long, two-inch strip from the
 corpse’s thigh-a strip of adductor longus, if you want to get clinical-

washed it under the tap, and began to eat it. Most of the girls ran out of

the room. I followed Shanks home to see if he’d throw up. He didn’t. (97)

The novel also talks about the various addictions and indulgences of students on

campus. It throws light on their craze for cigarettes, alcohol, porn, sex, parties

and opposite sex. For instance, describing Rishi’s addiction of cigarettes, the

narrator says:

He’s only a moderate smoker-forty Charminars a day- but he’s

convinced he’ll die of lung cancer or Buerger's. You’ll be sitting in his

room talking some serious profound stuff and all the time Rishi’s camped

inside the mosquito net begging us to listen to his chest or examine his

toes for gangrene or make us feel his goddamn foot pulses. (97)

It is ironical to see that although Rishi smokes forty Charminars a day, Bharat

considers him to be a moderate smoker.

Sex, love and marriage are shown to be the favourite topics among students on

the campus. Shanks for instance strongly supports the idea of pre-marital

relationships and even boasts of it in front of his friends:

Shanks said, ‘There is no such thing as True Love, yaar. You can stick

around with a dame for a few months, a year at the most. How can you do

the job with the same broad every single night for the rest of your

goddamn life? For sixty years? Seventy years?’....Shanks should know.

 He claims to have done the job two hundred times. Give a generous

margin for exaggeration and I’d say he’d have done it at least fifty times.

(19-20)

The novelist also points towards students’ inclination towards pornographic

movies: “Shanks sees hundreds of them, Rishi says they take his mind off

wordly sorrows” (18). Raising the issue of peer- pressure, the novelist intends

to bring out that how by not indulging in activities like watching porn films,

dating girls and drinking or smoking, one feels like an outcaste:

Shanks was disappointed with the way I behaved with women. So was I.

A nineteen-and-a-half-year-old fossil and still a brahmachari. I was

beginning to get a complex. ‘Guru- tell me what to do,’ I begged Shanks.

Shanks grinned his beautiful grin. ‘Tarzan, listen to this. There’s a party

on in Moti Bagh on Sunday, starting at four. Drinks, dames, dancing.

Parents taken care of. Coming or no?’ ‘Coming, coming! But where is the

dame for me?’ (20)

Attraction towards the opposite sex leading to love affairs and disappointments

is another important aspect highlighted in the novel. The novelist beautifully

portrays how the issue of love and marriage is dealt with infancy by young

immature minds. For instance, talking about his one- sided love for Neelam,

Bharat says:

Neelam is the daughter of Colonel Sethi and has skin the colour of milky

Nescafe. She’s the only girl I had thought of asking to marry me. Never
 said it to a soul but I’d been thinking a lot about her secretly. The next

day I went to Neelam’s house and after some general talk asked her

mother if Neelam could come for the party. Her mother said yes,

provided I deposited her home by nine. I rode away feeling pretty pleased

with myself. I could feel myself falling in love with Neelam. (20)

Similarly, when Bharat falls in love with Rajee later in the novel, he again starts

day-dreaming about their future together without even getting an affirmative

reply from her side:

I decided there and then to make Rajee lime juice every morning, after

she got pregnant with our first child. We’d have a flat on the road that

leads off from the back of Sheila Talkies. That’s the cleanest, quietest

part of Paharganj, if there is such a place. Sitting-room, bedroom, kitchen,

bathroom. We’d eat in the kitchen. It’s more practical than having a

separate dining-room, because you’ve got to carry the dishes from the

kitchen and carry them back again. And I decided I wouldn’t let Rajee

travel in over-packed buses with all sorts of men jostling her. I’d take her

on Blue Bird to College every morning and bring her back in the evening.

When you’re a GP working on your own, you can organize your life

better than if you’re working for someone else. (120)

Love and romance which is one of the integral aspects of student-life, is

beautifully expressed in the following lines said by Bharat:

 I didn’t feel depressed, confused, puzzled or unhappy. I’d been searching

and searching for God knows how long and now I’d found what I’d been

looking for. Oh I was the luckiest blinking guy on earth. So what if my

fingers were numb and my pants wet and my stomach empty as a cave.

So what if I’d suffered a setback in college and been betrayed by my

friends and was worried for my parents and scared to death about Shafu. I

was in love and that negated all my other miseries. (120)

The novel also points out the shift of focus and change of mindset of modern

day students. The students in today’s materialistic world want to lead a fast

paced life, enjoying all the luxuries that life has to offer. For instance, Bharat

recalls Shanks philosophy:

His philosophy is clear and bright: Work brings money brings happiness.

‘Yaar, I never want my pockets empty. I’ll do everything I want to on this

side of the grave. Soon as I finish as intern I’ll go to ‘Merica. That’s the

country to be in, man! Land of casinos, theatres, racing cars and bra-less

broads with their boobs swinging. We haven’t started living, yaar!’

Shanks has it from authentic sources that in Miami you can hire nude

dames to go swimming with. He had graphic details of the same and had

the lot of us making a mad rush to the public pool to learn swimming in

preparation of our glorious future. (98)

The novel thus provides a very realistic picture of campus life, depicted mostly

from the point of view of the students. The thought process of students, their
outlook towards life, conversation among peers, use of campus slang and life in

hostels are some of the areas on which the novel focuses. Kavery Nambisan has

very accurately and thoroughly incorporated all these aspects of student life in

the novel thereby making The Truth (Almost) About Bharat worthy to be called

a great campus novel.