Review of a short story

From hazy memory: I recently read a story that went like this. A Brahmin priest in India throws his son out of the house for marrying a "lower caste" woman. The thrown out son and his wife go to USA, change their names to American ones and have a son. On dying, the couple want burial and not cremation. (note: they have not become Christians or anything, only thoroughly Westernized as a reaction to the injustice meted out to them.) The grand/son is given an urn with earth and not ashes in it, after both his parents are killed off in an accident simultaneously, and he carries out their last wishes. He (the grandson) is living in with an American woman. The grandson ponders  a lot and finally informs the parents of his father of his father's and mother's untimely demise. It's obvious why they think of the father's parents to inform - because of the quarrel - but not why they do not think of the mother's parents. THE MOTHER'S PARENTS DO NOT COUNT, OF COURSE.  This is also connected to their fleeing not to her house but to USA on being turned out. The father's parents come over (to the USA) to do the last rites. After grudgingly letting the 'white' woman attend the rite the priest, shocked by the urn with earth in it, while ready at last to do the rite for the daughter in law too, finally becomes the one who has the last word. If only he (my son) had obeyed me, he (the priest) laments and we are supposed to feel deeply for him and ponder on the supposed depths of profundity in the story which is ambiguous, with multiple points of view (3 generations, and Oedipal), secular, liberal, democratic etc., except for 'non Brahmins' like me who could not care less who the hell marries whom. This is because its text is seemingly tolerant but the subtext is be a Brahmin, and you are the cat's whiskers and if not you are some stray dead rat the cat brought in on a rainy day, put across very subtly or ignorantly by the author, the Catch-22 of a situation the story cannot tide over, making it of no significance to me in comparison with stories by writers/masters like Chekhov in Lady with a Dog for instance who are actually humanist and not biased, and only limited in their art by everyone's inescapable circumstances of having been born into a particular time and space, in their story-telling. The story fails in the choice of point of view which is subjective, and not objective. I am not being facetious or reductionist or essentialist here.Titled 'Burial' (of the old way of life?), or something like that- if I remember rightly, as my memory - I repeat - is hazy, and written in typical American creative writing courses manner, (I may have the details in the story also wrong, by the way) the story is penned in copy book style/fashion by Mahendra Rathod but is ideologically pretty lame and taught me only one thing. India, USA, UK and Israel will always talk of equality and equity but never have or grant it to the untouchables in their societies, as it profits the ones who are in power to not let them have it. This is, of course, also the sentiment behind the do away with reservation campaign. So too, with brown babus and their colonial cringe over people who go to USA and UK and make it, and then stay there or come back. Lesser choices are making it in Canada, Australia or NZ or Europe.They also look down on sensibly used 'Indian' varieties of English. These are the ones Fanon referred to as people having black skin, but wearing white masks, sarcastically. The sarcasm being that one cannot change the colour of one's skin, after all, however much one looks down on others with the same colour of skin or on other human beings. It is, or seems to be, unfortunately/contradictorily much worse in many other countries!

Where the story lacks is in that while the theme may be very touching to the writer, it is not as powerful as it would have been if written from the point of view of the mother of the narrator as inter-caste marriage and its repercussions might have mattered as a shocking issue once upon a time but today if it is to really make a difference it has to go deeper, much deeper, to make sense to a Western audience or be liked by an Indian audience and not as here into the minor intricacies of this situation that actually reveals even in the 'positive' characters in the story gender bias and purblindness to the harsh reality of casteism, pointing out only its superficial wound and a band aid of a salve, finally.


There is hope only in the ordinary people.

PS: I like being inexact.