Good writing? Where's the proof?

I have always approached any installment of Penguin's First Proof series with dread. One can't be held responsible for the feeling, simply because that's how most people would react to a compilation described as 'rich proof that variety continues to thrive in Indian writing

I have always approached any installment of Penguin's First Proof series with dread. One can't be held responsible for the feeling, simply because that's how most people would react to a compilation described as 'rich proof that variety continues to thrive in Indian writing!' (exclamation mark not mine). And yet, like Henry Molaisonu00a0-- the much-studied brain science patient who could form no new memoriesu00a0-- I refuse to learn my lesson.



And so it was with the latest edition, which promised essays, memoirs, ethnographies (um, qualitative research used in the social sciences) and profiles. Also promised were 'exciting first-time writers' and 'familiar names writing in new genres'.

To ease any potential pain in the pit of my stomach, I first opted for non-fiction; specifically, Mayank Shekhar's thoughts on 'Bollywood: Where the Twain Meet'. Struggling to keep my lunch down, I proceeded to try and understand how Hindi cinema was a 'rare instance' of 'globalisation' that didn't mean 'Western domination alone.' Shekhar's views were devoid of substance and academic heft, the basics of grammar were of no importance to him, and he clearly didn't think the use of the word 'twain' incongruous in any way.

After watching a few soap commercials on television, which I actually found more edifying, I tried again. Someone called Chatura Rao had put together three profiles in By The Ganga One Winter.

These, she pointed out, were among many a 'shy story' that had 'looked at her out of the corner of its eye and tried to hurry on' until she had 'stopped it and forced a hello.' Rao was clearly smoking something I needed a whiff off. And oh, her contribution was awful.

What I did like (and the word 'like' is used half-heartedly) was D Rege's short story Stinku00a0-- rather verbose, but still unsentimental and surprisingly nuanced. Also, an essay titled Cabbie, where Anindita Ghose described an unusual relationship with a Pakistani taxi driver that blossomed and died while she studied in New York City.

Ultimately, First Proof: 6 left me numb, and with a troubling question: Was it actually 'rich proof' that genuinely good writers were being published elsewhere?

First Proof 6: The Penguin Book of New Writing from India, 217 pages.u00a0Available at leading bookstores for Rs 250

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