Bricks in the Wall: A Review of Kiran Nagarkar’s Seven 6’s are 43

Bricks in the Wall: A Review of Kiran Nagarkar’s Seven 6’s are 43

The thing that I love most about Coetzee, Banville, and Hemingway’s works, at least the one I have read, is the clarity with which they represent a man in an existential crisis. Although Seven 6’s are 43 lacks the coherence and panache of such authors, it is nevertheless a bold start for topics less explored in Indian fiction. Seven 6’s are 43 explores the feeling of individual isolation that is an integral part of the human condition. The added attraction for me in this book was that all this was done in the context of the indian society. In my opinion, the society which has shaped an individual has a great psychological impact on that particular individual’s feeling of isolation.

The main protagonist is extremely realistic in the sense of a stream-of-consciousness novel. Over the course of the book he talks of a plethora of issues unceremoniously switching from one to the other. From a small child’s fear that someone would take his father away, to a lovelorn and aching heart, to loneliness, to honor, suffering pain poverty sex happiness satisfaction corruption. This is parallel to our own thinking pattern. Just as we randomly switch thinking about one topic or another unless we consciously sit down and force ourselves to think about a particular thing.

The first time I read Seven 6’s are 43, I was startled by the appearance of certain words and phrases in the English translation. Balloon, pinprick, child, dream, numb, comfortable. It got me thinking: how many books exist which have all the words to make up the vocabulary of the song Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd. Not many I suppose. Then I came back to reality and remembered that Seven 6’s are 43 was written in 1974 but Comfortably Numb was released in 1979. The book was originally in Marathi anyway but I can’t help but wonder if this song had any effect on the translator Shubha Slee.

The reason I mention this particular song is that the album and the movie which contains it, The Wall by Pink Floyd is a masterpiece concerned with the issue of an individual’s isolation.

“All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.”

These lines from another song in the album refers to the metaphorical wall that isolates him from the rest of humanity and the movie traces its origins in the form of the origins of the individual bricks of the walls. Pink’s father’s death when he was still a child, passing down of senseless traditions and customs from one generation to another in the society (“Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you... ,Of course mama's gonna help build the wall”)  and the stringent education that aims to obliterate all individuality and grind students into a homogeneous uniform pulp.

One baffling feature of the book is that the narrative freely and smoothly flows from First person to Second Person to Third Person in the book. Although a bit difficult to read at first, it serves a very particular purpose. Whenever Kushank refers to one of his lovers, the narrative switches to the second person. In the whole of the novel he mentions some four or five different women with whom he was involved at one time or another. By the end it becomes difficult to tell how many, initially he mentions their names but by the end there are no longer any names and they all merge into one another. I think this is a particularly significant and suggestive narrative style.  Perhaps he is trying to club all his lovers into a singular cohesive entity, the “You”, and separate himself, the “I” from it. Perhaps to get across the feeling of separation felt by him. In this I unequivocally agree with the narrator. The mindless effort of people to make sure that they “belong”. Clubs, Associations, Institutions, Castes, Classes, and perhaps the ultimate betrayal Marriage. People work hard all their lives just to make sure that they don’t end up dying alone when in fact Is it even possible not to die alone? Do married couples who love each other enough get appointments so that they can die together? Of course not.

“You see people. In groups, in countries, in societies. Indians, Englishmen, Spaniards, Germans, Chinese, and then Caucasians, Semites, Mongolians…I see only human beings. As individuals. Isolated, occasionally in groups.”

The narrator also mentions the lies we tell us and our told by adults as children so that we can feel better.

“If Prachinti had been taken to hospital ten months earlier, she might have lived another couple of years. But we mustn’t cry over the past must we? No, of course not.”

And earlier when his mother died. Probably when he was a teenager,

“..“This happens we all have to go one day. Today, tomorrow its god’s will.” And so on. Stroking my back with their hands. “She’s happy. She’s with god. We are all but pilgrims in this world.”..”

We are never told the nature of Prachinti’s or Kushank’s mother’s illness but Kushank’s bitterness is evident in the phrases he used to describe their condition. Needles and tubes hanging out of her arms, fingers, nose. Anyone who can satisfy himself or herself with the explanation that the dead are happy in god’s arms is obviously well versed in the art of ignorance. And then Ignorance is surely bliss. Kushank mentions that it took him thirteen days to realize that his mother was dead. I remember when I read Surely You Are Joking, Mr. Feynman, a sort of autobiography of Richard Feynman the celebrated physicist. He said that it took him a year after her death to fully realize that his wife was dead. At the time I thought this delay in knowledge and full fledged experience of death was nonsense. Perhaps some kind of exaggeration at best. Now I know that the experience of death is not a single shot one. It comes through in waves. Over a long period of time. Perhaps because the mind knows that such a realization and its consequences are strong enough to turn a person into a incoherent, blabbering, paralyzed idiot. What is to be done? Is death conditioning the answer as in Brave New World? Should all little children be taken to terminal wards each week to get them used to death? Yes, that must be it! Desensitize them to all emotions and feelings! Brilliant!

One particular notable detail in the book was that every time the word "god" came up, it was used with a lower-case "g" unless it came in the beginning of a sentence. Because the book is originally in Marathi, I believe this is a result of the translator's interpretation of the book. I remember when I was in the third standard, there was a subject "Value Education". One whole hour each week instilling values into children. My teacher proudly showcased her expertise with the English language by remarking that the word "God" wherever it appeared in our writing was supposed to be capitalized. And the reason? we asked her innocently, impressionable little souls that we were. And lo and behold! the reason was revealed to us as being thus: Children, as you already know God is all powerful and omnipresent and omnipotent and so on and so forth. And so, to show respect for the Almighty we always capitalize the word "God". 

But what I want to know now is this: Is religion anything more than a man-made apparatus to keep the populace in check? Put fear into their minds so they don't question us. Tell them about heaven and hell so that they don't think too much. No, no we wouldn't want them thinking too much now, would we?

The novel raises more questions than it answers. Questions about people's behavior, about your own behavior, about society, about death, about suffering, and most importantly about trying to delude ourselves that we are not alone. Together with my wife, my husband, my friend, my brother, my sister. But I think that asking questions is a good start. It makes you think. The book is no grand treatise on the meaning of life but it does, modestly, pensively, indirectly, probe that question now and then. Seven 6's are 43 is a very selfish book. It hungrily demands attention as it takes you through Kushank's mind: at times clear and logical, at times wandering around thinking about honor and self respect and what not. I enjoyed reading it not just once but quite a few times but it may not be for you if you can't stand 214 pages of dark and brooding. 

Anshuman Dubey