The Heat and Dust Project

by Saurav Jha

  ‘In a few days. We will start from Delhi. It’s almost as though we had to see you off for the circle to close, so we could start again.’

  ‘But it’ll be really hot, no?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Saurav replies. ‘It’ll be the ultimate heat and dust project.’

  A slice of cheesecake arrives for Zvika.

  Before he begins to eat, he brings out a little skullcap from his bag and puts it on his head. ‘This is a kippa, Dippy.’ He smiles. ‘I am now grown up and different. I learnt so many things from the rabbis in the Chabad House. I learnt to cook, you know? See’ – he shows me a frying pan in his bag and two tomatoes – ‘I’ve been learning the kosher rules. I don’t know what will happen after this. But I will study religion.’

  You nod, taking this new Zvika seriously.

  ‘And bartending,’ he adds, and then you can let go of the little flickers of discomfort and laugh as though all four of you are together again.

  At sunset, the three of you stand looking at the river. The breeze is moist. The colours of the sky sparkle in the water, all pink and orange and red and gold. There are boats and barges and ice-cream sellers. There are happy lovers holding hands and sad weird old men, sitting alone. You have made an elaborate plan for this evening: river; Victoria; New Market to eat cookies at the delightful old Baghdadi Jewish institution of Calcutta, Nahoum’s; College Street; South City; then home. Even you know this is crazy. You will have to scrap most of it.

  ‘Dippy,’ Zvika whispers to you, as the noises of people and boats and sellers coalesce and separate in turns, ‘check out these ladies.’ You follow his eyes and see two women in their fifties in soft red salwar-kameezes. They sit next to each other, their backs to the river, and placidly share an ice-cream cone as they watch the people coming and going, and the cars streaking on the street. They look as though they could be sisters – they have a certain similarity in manner and dressing – but why would sisters share an ice-cream cone? A cup, yes. But a cone? They must be lovers. Old lovers who have grown to look similar. You look at Zvika and nod conspiratorially.

  Then you walk ahead and sit by the river and watch people filling little bottles with water, Ganga jal. It will be sprinkled on their heads on special occasions. You watch three women in bright saris sail diyas. ‘I am trying to get Motty interested in religion, you know,’ Zvika suddenly says, looking at the two of you urgently, and you know immediately what he is saying. He is saying he does not want to break away from the original state – the family. He is saying simultaneously that he will.

  You feel the stab, and it is so acute it startles you for a moment.

  This is what the land teaches you, after all: you must let go, you must not let go.

  You must leave, you must stay.

  Lap, lap, lap, the water hits the steps. The tide is coming in.

  Acknowledgements

  If a book is in gestation for as long as this one was, the burden of its debts are larger than the GDP of some small countries. Many, many thanks are due to:

  The parents, Sukumar Jha, Nilanjan Roy, Manidipa Roy, they who have suffered hard and worried long, and learnt to call hand-outs and bailouts ‘endowments to the arts’.

  Sarajit and Vinu Jha, and Susnato Roy, the second line of defence, who have put up with much moodiness over the years, also called rampant moral high-grounding.

  Masood Hussainy, Voruganti Srinivas, Abhishek Mukherjee, Rakesh Ahuja and Ravikant Mishra: five people whose affections made the book – and its authors – stand on a stronger wicket.

  The Facebook group ‘the heat and dust project – a book in motion’. It had been a flare, sent up from a lonely place, and the response we got – blankets and tinned food and whatnot in virtual terms – kept us warm. (People on the group were awfully patient too. They used the word finally only sometimes. Is the book finally out? Is the subtitle finally decided?) If you are someone who joined the group, left a comment somewhere, participated in a contest, or forwarded the link to your friends and relatives, know that you kept us going when the going was tough. It was often tough. Thank you.

  HarperCollins India: If one keeps one’s publishers waiting for this long, they either become friends or, well, the opposite. Fortunately, in our case, they picked a third option: family. Thank you, V.K. Karthika, for never rushing the manuscript, for all the hugs and meals dispensed liberally, and finally, for cutting out the excesses with your fine scalpel. Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri, the best editor one can possibly have, and, to steal a phrase Gulzar used for him (Yes, he is Gulzar’s editor too!), the perfect custodian of our ideas. Thank you, Sameer Mahale and Amrita Talwar for captaining the ship, through choppy seas, along with their wonderful teams (hat tip to Prema Govindan, Gokul Kumar, Vinay Anchan, Indranil Roychowdhury). A big hug to Bonita Vaz, who helmed the aesthetics. Finally, S.K. Ray Chaudhuri, whose diligent proofing ensured that the authors did not mix up their streets or their metals.

  Arunava Sinha: there are literally a hundred reasons to thank him.

  Pinaki De – for that cracking cover. We were lucky you picked us.

  Nayantara Chatterjee for her love, generosity, and, of course, her photography skills. Also, to Manasi Subramaniam, who composed the shot and acquired the rickshaw on a mad Paharganj morning, and to Abhishek Chatterjee, cartographer of The Heat and Dust Project, and giver of the camera for said author photo.

  Gitanjali Chatterjee, who stars as herself – Gee – in the book (well, okay, she just has a cameo in this one but you can always take a look at The Vague Woman’s Handbook, where she does, indeed, star), and who gifted D the ‘yellow notebook’.

  Manaspratim Mitra, Neelini Sarkar, Debasri Rakshit, Chitra Viraraghavan, Krishna Shastri Devulapalli (‘The French Guide to Bharat’ was definitely D’s favourite subtitle that, for some reason, did not get picked), Aneela Zeb Babar (‘Bhadralok go Backpacking’ was a close second), Esha Sil, Karthika Nair, Sarayu Karnoor, Amit Upadhyaya, Asha Ritu, Deepayan Chakravarty, Amrita Singh, Anita Kakar, Deepshika Chakravarty, Shivdev Singh and Yera Tripathi: for various reasons, mostly involving dosti, cake and a history of bad ideas, in some or other combination.

  The magnificent Samhita Bianca Chakraborty for giving uncommon good advice and mixing uncommonly good cocktails – vodka with cranberry juice and a secret ingredient distilled from newsprint, for example.

  Dipali Taneja and Somak Ghoshal, who, separately, came up with the perfect subtitle. (Of course, it meant we got frazzled phone calls from the parents – refer 1 – who wondered if it might be misunderstood as literal.They were further distressed when we told them that is exactly what we hoped.)

  Dipanjan and Arati Rai Chaudhuri, Kapil Kapoor and H.S. Shivapraksh – for teaching us distinct ways of approaching the country and its narratives.

  Arhaan Babar Ray, Juhi and Rohini Banerjee, Subit Chakraborty (I want to see those evil dollars support this book, Comrade), Indrayudh Banerjee, Anand Mukherjee, Prateek Chakraborty (who will remember the Jodhpur chapter and the chocolate bombs), Suranjan Mukherjee, the three Boses – Shivangi, Siddharth and Sonia – Pallavi Banerjee Ghosh (who would take over the night shift from the US, in badgering people to pre-order the book), the most generous Tirthajit Maitra and Saumya Srivastav, Sohini Charaborty and Sohini Chakraborty (in the last book, her name had been accidentally missed out): thank you for all the love and support.

  Indranath Mukherjee – one and only; best Bengali storyteller this side of the Yamuna.

  Mamata Chowdhury and Santosh Bhasin – our beloved grandmothers in Delhi.

  Everyone who, in the course of the journey, gave us a discount, put us up or shared their stories, friends old and new, especially Motty and Zvika Hillel (prepare to play yourselves in the movie, dudes!)

  The memory of Indira Jha and our grandparents – dramatic people, all; great storytellers too.

  Ramkrishna Paramhansa, Aghori Vimalananda, Trailanga Swami and
Ramana Maharshi. If we have been able to breathe any life into this book at all, it is owed to their stories and blessings.

  Colonel Tod, author of the fascinating Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, whose three-volume magnum opus was a treasure trove of royal stories.

  And finally, you. Thank you for reading the book. Now, go buy a rucksack!

  About the Authors

  Devapriya Roy is the author of two novels, The Vague Woman’s Handbook (2011) and The Weight Loss Club (2013). She has degrees in literature and performance studies from Presidency College, Calcutta, and Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, where she spent many years in pursuit of a PhD on the Natyashastra. Once upon a time, she was the Keo Karpin girl.

  Saurav Jha was trained in economics at Presidency College, Calcutta, and Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He is a commentator on energy and security issues and contributes regularly to varied national and international media. He also runs a popular blog, ‘Geek at Large’, on Indian defence issues. His first book, The Upside Down Book of Nuclear Power, was published in March 2010, and his next work on the sustainability of economic growth, The Nexus, is scheduled for end 2015.

  Coming Soon

  Book 2 of the Heat and Dust Project

  man. woman. road.

  Devapriya Roy and Saurav Jha

  It is the hottest summer India has seen in decades. Birds are falling from the sky, dead. Most of the gap-year kids and young Israelis have long left for home. The broke couple, D and S, undeterred by family drama or personal finances, have hit the road again. As they travel the land without a compass, from the forests of central India to the seas in the south, an eccentric virtual family comes together on Facebook to root for them. The scorching summer is only matched by the pace at which they travel, from (Sarai) Kale Khan to Kanyakumari, via Khajuraho, Kolhapur, Kozhikode and a hundred other places. At one point, they race the monsoon. At another, they are chased down by a journalist who wants to write a story about the project. Ultimately, forgotten sorrows, lost joys and the cruelties of relationships finally find their way to closure, as the journey offers a rollicking alternative to the grist of life: the road.

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  Copyright

  First published in India in 2015 by

  HarperCollins Publishers India

  Copyright © Devapriya Roy and Saurav Jha 2015

  P-ISBN: 978-93-5136-749-9

  Epub Edition © May 2015, E-ISBN: 978-93-5136-750-5

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  Devapriya Roy and Saurav Jha assert the moral right

  to be identified as the authors of this work.

  The views and opinions expressed in this book are the authors’ own and the facts are as reported by them, and the publishers are not in any way liable for the same.

  The names of many people and hotels have been changed.

  Though every effort has been made to obtain permission for quoted matter, this has

  not been possible in every case. Any omission brought to our notice will be acknowledged in future editions.

  All rights reserved under The Copyright Act, 1957. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers India.

  Cover design: Pinaki De

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