Most of the stories in the collection leave you with the impression that here is a writer who is certain to come up with works in the future that will leave a mark.[break]
Bhattarai is certainly in love with the art of storytelling. Her characters are alive, and on quite a few occasions, she succeeds in drawing readers into the story setting where you find your feelings fluctuating with the wave of emotions her characters feel. You feel their joy and pain.
You can identify with the dilemma that drags them, and with the moments of awakening that leaves them in utter despair or complete ecstasy.
In most stories, young and teenage characters try to make sense of the world around them through their relationship with their parents, siblings, friends and society in general.
A couple of stories are about puppy love that college and school students experience during their growing-up years when they struggle to differentiate between infatuation and actual love.
Most stories rely on the elements of surprise and anticipation, bordering on mystery, to keep the readers’ interest alive. But the only mystery she has managed to pull off successfully is “Only in My Dreams.” Other stories are fairly good with gradually unfolding surprises.
“Apple Mango and Raspberry” and “Heart of Red,” the first two pieces, are a bit difficult to comprehend. Both the stories begin with some promise and readers keep guessing where the writer is leading them.
But then the endings of both the stories are so abrupt, as an afterthought, that some might find the preceding passages as mere tasteless blabber.
I would personally disapprove of using them as the leading stories. They can put off average readers before they turn the pages to read other interesting stories that follow.
It is “Death and Before,” the third piece, that actually hooked me to the book and left me wanting more.
The story is quite a little experiment in terms of plot, and the way it is presented. The narrator is the soul of a dead schoolgirl who relates a heartrending story about how she was led to commit suicide by the betrayal of the very friend she dotted on, the friend she went great lengths to please and keep happy.
ABOBA comes as a surprise package. Saugat, a schoolboy, gets caught in the middle of Any Brand of Bag Association’s (ABOBA) meeting where the members (read bags!) are complaining how they are ill treated by their masters and discuss the ways to stop such maltreatment.
For example, this is how Saugat’s bag (Honey) voices his grievance before Mr Chucky, supposedly the leader of ABOBA: “I would like to state that Saugat is the worst master anyone could have! He continually dumps me in the dark closet, makes me carry extremely heavy objects, never bathes me and stuffs all types of sticky chocolates and overripe bananas in me. He has been known to draw with sketch pens on me and poke me with a compass!”
It is stories like “Poetry Personified” that reveal the true depths of a writer’s capability. In mere four pages, the writer has packed a lot of philosophy.
You wish the writer to continue dropping philosophical gems with deeper insights through her angelic character Vaishali who is left without a mother at the age of six.
“A Commitment for Penance” is an intense depiction of Kathmandu society. It hints at the writer’s maturity to deal with a larger context, drawing on various themes and piece them together coherently for a larger work of fiction.
Kathmandu is embroiled in chaos but some upper class youth, either oblivious or feigning ignorance to the upheaval around them, carry on with business as usual attitude, partying and having fun.
When confronted with the reality, Tapasya, a high society girl, is shaken out of her comfortable cocoon. She decides to join the April Movement and gets shot in the leg.
The writer sometimes does seem to falter as she tries to breathe life into nondescript characters and infuse sense into implausible plots.
There are some stories that need extra effort from the reader to make sense out of them. Such experimental writing in a debut work is risky, as it is easy for some to dismiss the whole book. But all the stories, even those that appear absurd, unearth complexities of our world, the mess we make of it, and the moments of joy.
If the hiccup of someone for whom English is not a first language is apparent in her work, some surprising wordplays are evidence that she can attain impressive lucidity in her writing.
Bhattarai does seem to be a talented writer, but as she dabbles into a host of subjects and tries her skills in various styles, one is led to assume that either she is a writer with multiple talents or someone who is still struggling to find her style.
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