Product Description

Vishnu, the odd-job man in a Bombay apartment block, lies dying on the staircase landing. In his fevered state, he looks back on his love affair with the seductive Padmini while around him is played out the drama of the apartment block dwellers. Blending Hindu mythology with acutely observed social detail and a dash of Bollywood sparkle, THE DEATH OF VISHNU is a breathtaking debut.

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Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #595085 in Books
• Published on: 2002-02-04
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 352 pages

Amazon.co.uk Review

Not wanting to arouse Vishnu, in case he hadn't died yet, Mrs. Ashrani tiptoed down to the third step above the landing on which he lived, teakettle in hand.

So begins Manil Suri's The Death of Vishnu, a comically trenchant depiction of the inhabitants of a slum building in Bombay. This is a world of small things, of truculent housewives engaged in a war of mutual suspicion, of selfishness and ignorance and of the poverty of existence, both spiritual and material. With dexterity and acuity, Suri plunges the reader into the bounded world that his characters inhabit, with each story existing as a separate unit, occasionally interacting with another, reflecting the invidiously withdrawn way they share the house.

The inhabitants include dreamer Mr Jalal and his frustrated wife; Mrs Ashrani and her political intrigues; teenagers Kavrita and Sumil's sexual attraction and elopement: and Vinod's solitary existence, mourning the loss of his one love. Existing in displacement, outside these residents' lives, is the eponymous Vishnu, who, as the novel opens, lies dying on the landing of the stairs. He has lived there for many years, earning his leftover stale chapattis, tea and place to sleep through running errands (badly). The residents argue over who is responsible for calling an ambulance, for saving his life, and manoeuvre to absolve themselves from responsibility. As Vishnu slides closer to death, the reader travel's with him along the road to death, and the actions and thoughts of those who live in the house are revealed to Vishnu and the reader with a god-like omniscience. As his spirit journeys further and further away from his body, Vishnu begins to believe he is transcending to godhead. Fellow resident Mr Jalal believes so too; an implacable searcher for a meaning, a reason for life, he believes that he has finally found truth when he dreams of Vishnu's transformation. His despairing wife, however, tries with increasing desperation to hide her husband's apparent slide into madness from the neighbours.

Gradually, the intensity and heat of their emotions becomes magnified and the turmoil and conflict within the house heats up and boils over, turning stifled neighbourly relations into outright aggression, intolerance and abuse. Suri keeps this remarkable novel moving with alacrity, conveying the smallness of their lives through his often hilarious characterisations, which illuminate the absurdities of human nature divided by prejudice, moral hypocrisy and greed. --Alison Jardine

Review
'Beautifully captures with great tenderness and depth the eternal war between duty and desire. This is a love letter to Bombay and its people, a non-romantic love tinged with real insight and unsentimental observation Suri's characters smell of cardamom and clove and have bodies that ripen like plucked mangoes' SUNDAY EXPRESS 'A magnificent debut, rich with humour, compassion and insight into what it is like to inhabit the melting pot that is contemporary Bombay, rich in celebration of humanity' SCOTSMAN

The Times
'Quite wonderful ... arch, funny and criminally well written'

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Customer Reviews

Intriguing amalgamation of the dysfunctional and the divine
Vishnu, the drunken dogsbody in a Bombay apartment block, is not in a good state when we first encounter him: he lies sprawled on the stone stairs, in a pool of his own vomit and having soiled himself. Not wanting to stir him, 'in case he hadn't died yet', his neighbour Mrs. Asrani deliberates whether to leave him his morning tea or not. Hardly an auspicious start for our hero.
Vishnu's life, however, has already been led; and Suri consciously weaves his often comic depiction of the present-day lives of those in the flat with the dying memories of this character. His name initially appears ironic as we learn of his destructive lifestyle, infatuation with a prostitute, and helpless dependence on others. But as Vishnu's last grip on life ebbs from him, he becomes transformed into a wraith, and is faced with the daunting possibility that he might be Kalki, the final avatar of the god Vishnu, 'destined to cut the thread of time and purify all of mankind'. Of course, no-one can see him in this incarnation; no-one, that is, except the religious sceptic Mr Jalal from upstairs - whose reputation for heresy within the flat microcosm is further compounded, when he tries to preach of a Hindu vision to Hindis on the day his son has ran away with the Asrani's daughter...
Despite the lucidity of its prose, The Death of Vishnu is a complex work. Virtually devoid of social or political criticism, and datable only via references to Bollywood movies, it combines a Big Brother-esque claustrophobia with a dark humour that enhances the uncertainty and need for faith in the community. Religion comes across as something all-pervading but necessarily enigmatic: Mr Jalal, who 'had always assumed it was a flaw in people, a human failing.....to believe in something beyond the ordinary', becomes a messianic visionary prepared to martyr himself for beliefs he had always dismissed as worthless. His wife, devout as a result of her upbringing and resolutely orthodox, cannot differentiate between religious fervour or lunacy in her husband, since she is blinded by the Koran's non-adaptability. Whereas Vishnu, given his exploits, would seem the least likely candidate for divine favour. Suri seems to be making the point that religion is what we make of it.
Somewhat tantalisingly, there is little resolution in the story: the many characters are brought to life fragmentarily through their arguments, memories or anecdotes, but only to the extent that they become models of frailty in Suri's crumbling universe. They are peripheral in the sense that we are only give enough to identify with them loosely, and their fates remain largely opaque. Except Vishnu, of course? Well.....I won't spoil it.
The Death of Vishnu will certainly be popular with admirers of Indian writers such as R. K. Narayan and Amit Chaudhuri; although for those not studying theology it might be useful to have a copy of The Bhagavad-Gita to hand while reading it (I did). Where the book fails slightly - in its faltering centralisation and occasionally flaccid characters, it impresses with a mélange of farce, melancholy and dream-narrative through which a satisfying chaos out of the human and the divine is fashioned.

A warm, funny, and manageable novel of India.
If you, like me, find yourself needing to gear up emotionally before reading an Indian novel, due to the stupendous scale of the misery you may find, you are in for a huge--and very wonderful--surprise here. Despite the off-putting title, this is a very funny novel. It is also very thoughtful, thought-provoking, and beautifully constructed. A Mumbai apartment building serves as the setting, a true microcosm of life in Mumbai at large, but a limited enough context for the reader to be able to see the problems as soluble and to appreciate the day-to-day lives of its inhabitants.

Vishnu, an alcoholic who inhabits the stairwell on the ground floor, dreams of his mother, his love for Padmini, a prostitute, and the Hindi myths which have given color and meaning to his life, as he lies dying. But he is a colossal problem for his petty and contentious neighbors--Mrs. Pathak tries to figure out how he can be cleaned up or hidden before her gossipy friends come for a card party, Mrs. Asrani hates waste and wonders whether she really needs to leave tea for him after all, Mr. Asrani and Mr. Pathak argue about who will pay for the ambulance to take Vishnu away. While life among these residents of the first floor is centered on the most basic aspects of life, the residents of the upper floors have the financial resources to be able to worry about "higher" concerns. The Jalal family, on the second floor, are Muslims at odds with the Hindi society in which they live, Mrs. Jalal devout, while Mr. Jalal is still searching for answers. On the top floor is Mr. Taneja, whose ascetic life takes on new meaning when he does good works, finds a swami, and discovers the peace of meditation. The symbolism of the floors takes on additional meaning through Vishnu's visions.

In many ways this resembles a grand chorus from a huge and wonderful comic opera, with all the inhabitants of the building singing at once. And underneath all the voices wailing about their personal concerns is the insistent bass of Vishnu as he prepares to die. Dealing with the most basic aspects of religion, love, and human kindness in a city setting which challenges its inhabitants to the limit, Suri creates a warm, funny, and very human drama of a every man?s search for meaning in life. Mary Whipple

The Memories of India flood back....
I have just completed this gem of a book. The echoes of Arudhati Roy and even the insightful social commentry of Rushdie were evident.
I must say that much of the Hindu sybolism would be lost if the reader has not come across nor understands the basic concepts of the Hindu faith. Also some of the names of Hindi amenities, foods and things would are confussing. As a second generation Indian who has visited India, these things were apparent to me, but may not be to many other people.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would reccomend it to anyone. I ended up reading this book in only a few days...pardon the cliche but I could not put it down.