In One and Three Quarters, Langdya – or Pitambar, as his father stubbornly called him – had been in Class 7 for about three years when I, the reader, first met him. His grades were as dismal as ever, and the weight of his father’s unrelenting expectations bore down on him. A man hardened by unfulfilled dreams, Langdya’s father demanded scholastic success from his son, a boy who seemed destined to fail. Fearing his father’s wrath, Langdya changed the zero on his marksheet to a thirty, in what seemed like a simple act of survival. Yet, this small deception set off a domino of events that would change his life in ways he couldn’t possibly have imagined.
Survival of the fittest
Langdya discovers an illicit affair between the school principal and the music teacher. With this secret, he inadvertently becomes a “fixer”, navigating through a landscape of moral ambiguity. From blackmailing to leveraging political connections, Langdya evolves into a cunning player in the system; his escapades in Harangul don’t stop. As Langdya’s cunning grows, so does the scope of his ambitions. His exploits in the village lead him to Mumbai, the political and cultural hub of India. Langdya’s sharp wit and survival instincts serve him well in the world of politics. He learns to navigate its power structures with the same resourcefulness that helped him survive his father’s beatings and the school principal’s manipulations. Bojewar captures this transition with a satirical lens, exposing the absurdities and hypocrisies of both rural and urban life.
There are elements of magical realism so seamlessly woven into the narrative, and it seems natural for there to be a group of talking cats, who chronicle the life of the people who live in Harangul. Landgya befriends one of these cats, a tomcat called Latthya. The tomcat acts almost as Langdya’s shadow – an observer of his mischief and moral dilemmas. The cat’s presence adds mystique to the narrative, serving as both a companion and a reflection of Langdya’s cunning. Their bond feels otherworldly, emphasising the story’s fable-like quality while anchoring Langdya’s humanity amidst his morally ambiguous journey.
The language used in the novel by Shrikant Bojewar, translated by Vikrant Pande, is as colourful as the characters it portrays. Bojewar’s prose is colloquial, peppered with obscenities that shock but enrich the authenticity of the narrative. Far from being jarring, the rawness pulls the reader into Harangul, making them a participant in its chaos. The translation captures this spirit beautifully, ensuring that the humour, irony, and poignancy of Bojewar’s writing remain intact. Bojewar’s use of humour is biting, often teetering on the edge of the grotesque, as he highlights the contradictions in people’s actions and beliefs. For instance, the portrayal of Ajabrao drunkenly serenading Lord Vitthala juxtaposes spiritual devotion with comic absurdity, underscoring the disconnect between ideals and reality.
A story of profound humanity
At its heart, One and Three Quarters is a commentary on post-Independence India – a country grappling with the contradictions of tradition and modernity, rural simplicity and urban complexity, ambition and corruption. Langdya’s journey from a limping schoolboy to a political player mirrors the compromises and moral ambiguities that define the lives of countless individuals navigating a flawed system.
What makes Langdya’s story so compelling is its profound humanity. He is no saint, nor is he a villain. His actions are driven by the same desires and fears that shape us all – survival, ambition, and a desire for respect. In his world, morality bends like a thin bamboo in the wind, adapting to the pressures of circumstance. And yet, as a reader, you cannot help but root for him. Langdya’s resourcefulness, his determination, and even his flaws make him a deeply relatable protagonist.
Shrikant Bojewar wrote this story in 2006 and it mirrors the era’s societal and political contradictions, focusing on how individuals navigated the complex interplay of tradition and modernity. The novel captures the struggles of villages like Harangul, where education is underfunded, social hierarchies are rigid, and survival demands bending the rules. Langdya’s rise from a schoolboy to a political manipulator reflects the broader societal shift as individuals navigated the challenges of a burgeoning democracy plagued by corruption and inequality.
It is one of those books that once read, simply doesn’t leave your mind. I still find myself reflecting on it. One and Three Quarters is more than just a tale of a boy’s rise to power. It is a fable for a fractured society, told with wit, irony, and a touch of magic.
One and Three Quarters, Shrikant Bojewar, translated from the Marathi by Vikrant Pande, Eka/Westland.
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