Nom de Plume

When we first meet Ramchand, a clerk in an Amritsar sari shop, he is late for work. Ramchand is habitually late for work.

In fact, he is not terribly happy, longing instead for the life he would have had if his parents hadn’t been killed in an accident when he was an child. One of the most affecting sections describes his childhood. His father took him on his lap, saying he would send him to an English school so Ramchand could have a better life than he. But the uncle who took him in after his parents’ death also took him out of school and claimed his father’s shop for his own. Thus, Ramchand is not even a shopkeeper, but a clerk in someone else’s.

So Ramchand decides to teach himself English; his bumbling attempts are both funny and sad. At the same time, an opportunity for advancement presents itself when a wealthy family comes to the sari shop to outfit the daughter for her wedding, and he is sent to their house. Ranchand starts to see his world expand.

But it’s not quite so easy to escape the confines of poverty and lack of education–and this tale, while funny, is also heartbreaking. Ultimately, Ramchand is confronted with the choice of existence or principles.

I thought Bajwa did a good job caricaturing upper class Indian families. She even pokes gentle fun at her own class–and maybe even herself–in the character of Rina, the rich, affianced daughter who publishes a book on a sari shop clerk. For me, this sly insertion redeemed the subject matter because it’s too easy–too hip — to write about the victim, especially when the writer is clearly not one.

All in all, The Sari Shop wasn’t as powerful as some other Indian lit out there, but it was very readable.