A guest with epic gastric trouble, the besieged political campaigner, the cruel critic, the secret murderer, the homophobic ruffians, the reluctant nude model, the talking dog, the frustrated illustrator, the grandfather who pines for the home he lost. Gautam Benegal’s short stories are peopled with characters we almost recognize – a neighbour, an uncle, a niece – bringing alive the Calcutta of the late 1980s and the early ’90s. There is nostalgia here, but it is shot through with darkness. A political pulse runs through the whole, informed by Benegal’s own preoccupations with gender and class, his keen interest in people and the workings of their minds. Yet, there is a lightness of touch, a desire to engage the reader in a story, even an occasional twist in the tale.
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