* Book: Rhythms of darkness

* Author: Anjana Basu

* Publisher: Gyaana Books, pp.247

* Price: Rs 295

The cover page of Anjana Basu’s novel Rhythms of Darkness mentions the book as a sequel to her already published fiction Black Tongue.

Rhythms might be a sequel in terms of location and has tenuous links with the earlier book but as far as characters and story goes, it stands in its own light as an independent story.

It is the story of the dark-skinned dancer Shyama Mondal and her relationship with a Maoist. The novel depicts how Shyama dances her way into politics and how she climbs the ladder to reach the top rung of leadership in Bengal and then goes into self-exile.

Entwined with Shyama’s story is the story of Nikhilesh and Jenny that is actually the story of Nikhilesh’s memory of his attraction to Urmi.

If one were to look for parallels, Rhythms could seem like the story of one who may not be a dancer but does share Shyama’s angst and has unseated the government in Kolkata. But, it is not. As fiction, this is also a book of ideas — the spectrum of political ideology.

In the course of the novel Shyama evolves from being a timid girl, who is an outsider in the city, to being a fiery woman who is an outsider in the village. Her dance roots her and slowly she puts it to good use, and becomes politically active. Her shadowy maasi stays a constant counterpoint. Nikhilesh is the observer and part narrator and Jenny is almost the reader, trying to understand the complex scenario of Indian politics and how religion mixes with it.

Basu has used dialogue to take the story ahead and that throws up an interesting argument: can the twists and turns of dialogue take a story ahead?

Another thread by which Basu ties the story together is the use of skin colour. Yes, Shyama is dark. As a reader learns and understands that, it becomes a little laborious to encounter the skin colour in everything from dance to expressions that stay hidden because of the colour of skin, and in the difficulty of finding a groom.

At the same time, Nikhilesh’s liking for the white woman Jenny also seems completely based on colour. This kind of stereotyping distracts from the story but what shines through is Basu’s grip on Maoism and Bengal politics.

Basu ends up painting with large strokes so the book becomes more like a documentary. Basu could have told the story more intimately if instead of positing that Shyama was at the head of Bengal politics the reader were to learn exactly how, though fictionally, Shyama rises up the hierarchy.

That said, Rhythms does give one an unmistakable sense of realpolitik and the role of religion, specifically Kali maa, in the formation of political ideology. In that, the book is a good attempt at a genre missing in the firmament of Indian writing in English — the political thriller.

Amandeep Sandhu is the author of Sepia Leaves