To the manner born

To the manner born

The road to happiness is never straight and Farahad Zama has got that right with his sequel to The Marriage Bureau for Rich People. Set in Vizag, it follows the story of the extended Ali family, a quiet God-fearing people who find themselves in the eye of the storm when they break with convention. Perhaps no place is as suited to the novel of manners today, as a small-town in India. The nature of gossip, the importance of customs, rituals and age-old traditions, the reliance on neighbours and the terror of social ostracism hold forth in smalltown India just as they did in Jane Austen’s county England. The novel even begins with a quietly elegant opening reminiscent of Austen: “A woman’s work is never done. And it will not be done while the woman is lying in bed counting rice grains, thought Mrs Ali.” This story isn’t particularly about Mrs Ali yet has everything to do with her because to threaten Mrs Ali’s family is to threaten her happiness. Mr Ali is doing a fair job of running his retirement prize: The Marriage Bureau for Rich People. Life seems to be on an even keel, even if their son proves slightly less than satisfactory when it comes to the matter of settling down. Then a new imam blows into town and rouses the close-knit, peaceful Muslim community, cowboy-style. He proposes a face-off over the issue of Pari and her adopted son, Vasu. Pari is the widowed niece of the Alis. She took the destitute boy under her wing and decided to raise him in the manner of his former parents, as a Hindu. The fiery young imam demands a religious conversion and brandishes the threat of ex-communication at the Ali family. Meanwhile, elsewhere, a right-wing Hindu organisation attaches itself to the issue and the matter comes dangerously close to violent resolution. Things rise to a fever pitch, with Pari and the peaceable Alis caught between two sets of fundamentalists. The conclusion to this whole fracas borders on the whimsical, but Zama manages to hold it together by virtue of momentum. In fact, there’s more than enough drama here for the average novel of manners, but Zama’s eye for quotidian small-town life makes the novel special. The toothy electric meter reader that nearly derails Mr Ali’s unofficial business; the road-widening project that threatens Mrs Ali’s courtyard; the pregnant assistant with rich in-laws but poor parents to support; the importance of selecting the right Eid gift for a newly-married daughter of the family — all these inform the world of the novel. As indeed they should, for happiness in the comedy of manners, as Zama observes, lies in community not isolation.