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Cobalt Blue is that rare sapphire of a book that sparkles ever so gently, even in translation. Let's agree that the best of French, Russian, and bhasha languages for Indians would have been lost to us English-medium-schooled people if it were not for translations. Ergo, it's useless to crib about books in translation unless the translation is inadequate. For the rest of us, it's gift of finding voices from another land that speak of familiar truths in different colours.
A Konakastha Brahmin family in Pune, bound by rites, rituals and middle class propriety, lets in a paying guest. PG is like a metaphor for the other, nameless and rootless, bringing with him aspects of freedom and abandon. He plays the guitar, paints, has spent some time in Paris and is ready to explore the limits of a sexual framework without boundaries. His individualism, his ability to stay disconnected and represent a certain freedom away from bourgeois social limitations is irresistible. The siblings of the Joshi family are drawn to him, fall in love with him, have their hearts broken and come to terms with loneliness and of learning to tread newer paths by themselves.
PG is a metaphor for opening our lives from our social confines to new experiences; of trusting the unknown despite the fear of betrayal and danger; and, in hindsight, realising the pain was worth it for the enrichment it brings.
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The language in Cobalt Blue is mature, affectionate and intimate, spoken from the heart of those who have lost their love. In lengthy monologues the brother and sister recall their brief association, the freedom and exhilaration they found in this attractive young man who wrecked their hearts to let them find their own paths, thus framing the story in personal voices.
Cobalt Blue addresses many aspects of the middle-class Indian family, gender and the silence of suffering with grace and dignity. Kundalkar also seems to hint that the grief of loving and losing is harder on the invisible community of homosexuals within the confines of middle- class morals. And families react with varying degrees of suspicion. So the brother is above suspicion even if he spends an inordinate amount of time in PG's room, rearranging his furniture and going on long rides with him.
His sexual intimacy with PG happens without drama. Kundalkar, who came out to his parents early on, and had a stint in Paris studying filmmaking, displays the grief of both the man and woman in their social contexts. It's symbolic that unlike young lads who would otherwise hang out on the street, the two young men here have their affair within the confines of their room. The girl, on the other hand, hangs out with the boy outside art galleries and open spaces, her courtship enjoying social sanction from the world outside.
The broken-hearted sister, who is independent and with a love for the outdoors otherwise, openly expresses her grief at being abandoned by PG. She has consultations with a psychiatrist from outside the family circle. Within the home, the family rallies around and the matriarchs offer support and consolation and help her live independently.
In contrast, the chaos is heightened for the brother who suffers the grief of losing his love with no coping mechanisms from the family or from well-meaning gay groups. The family is certainly not going to be sympathetic to his sexual otherness. His coming-out would mean grief doubly for the family and his sister and his social ostracism would only magnify his loneliness. While his sister lives in a flat in the same city away from the family home as a single, independent woman, the brother leaves the city to be a filmmaker.
Cobalt Blue is doubly blessed. The book is an ode to beauty, loss and love told with restraint and sensitivity; and for those who don't know Marathi, the translation, an able job by novelist Jerry Pinto, is a bonus.
Cobalt Blue
Author: Sachin Kundalkar
Translated by: Jerry Pinto
Publisher: Penguin
Pages: 240
Price: Rs 339
