The Lowland is a story of two brothers – close enough in age (15 months) to be twins and yet so far apart in character and personality that what motivates and drives each, places them physically on different continents very soon into the book (page 34). The narrative offers a journey through history – the birth of the Naxalite movement in Calcutta; lessons in geography – from the streets of Tollygunge to the relative vast expanse of Rhode Island. But mostly it is a story of the fifteen-month older Subhash who is quiet and dutifully obedient and his charismatic and rebellious risk-taking younger brother Udayan. In a few swift strokes, the author touches upon how alike they are (“when either name was called, both were conditioned to answer”, “their voices were nearly indistinguishable”, “similar enough in build to draw from a single pile of clothes”, “their complexions were identical, their double-jointed fingers, the sharp cut of their features, the wavy texture of their hair”). And yet the glaring differences – Udayan was “blind to self-constraints” just as Subhash “strove to minimize his existence”; Subhash stayed in clear view watching his mother cook, helping his father in the garden while Udayan “hid compulsively, under the bed, behind the doors, in the crate…” There is no doubt who the favorite son is – Subhash’s parents never have to “worry about him and yet they did not favor him.” So, it becomes “his mission to obey them, given that it wasn’t possible to surprise or impress them. That was what Udayan did.”
It is the stay-at-home quiet Subhash, who applies to a PhD program in America and flies the coop. When told, Udayan accuses Subhash of thinking only of himself and predicts that he will never come back. Udayan is consumed by the Naxalite cause and sees nothing selfish about “wanting to make a difference”. After Subhash leaves for America, the reader mainly learns about Udayan through his sporadic letters to Subhash and after he is killed, through Udayan’s widow Gauri. Even in his letters, Udayan is cautious – after the first couple where he urges Subhash to destroy after reading, his tone changes to football scores and neighborhood gossip – until Subash wonders what Udayan “might be masking”. For his part, Subhash shares nothing of his affair with the American Holly or indeed much else except for how the coastal landscape in Rhode Island – “the water and the grass” – make him “think of the lowland” in Tollygunge – the lowland that becomes the playing field for the brothers during their childhood and that eventually is visible from their reconstructed home when it becomes the scene of Udayan’s untimely death.
Out of character, it is Subhash who goes against his parents’ wishes – marries his brother’s pregnant widow, brings her to America and raises Udayan’s daughter as his own. He is portrayed as an innately decent man, but a reader may yet suspect his motives for marrying Gauri – after all he can’t “deny the attraction” he feels for her and an underlying current throughout the narrative is one where Subhash is always comparing/competing against his brother – even after he’s dead. Though Subhash stakes claim to most of the story-space, he is quiet to the point of being self-effacing and it always Udayan and then later Gauri who dominate with their strong personalities. Bela – Udayan’s daughter that Subhash devotes his entire adult life to, struggles with her own issues when she is abandoned by her mother and withdraws from the emotional world – including from that of the “father-uncle” she adores, leaving Subhash both alone and lonely. All those (eleven) years ago, before Bela was born, Subhash’s mother did warn him about Gauri – “She could go somewhere to continue her studies. She might prefer it. She’s too withdrawn, too aloof to be a mother.” How prophetic that proves to be in retrospect – she really sums up Gauri in a nutshell (“Mothers are always right – you should have listened to her”, I want to be able to tell Subhash).
Back and forth – the glaring differences – between India and America – are pointed out. Subhash enjoys the “freedom to eat with his fingers” when he returns home the first time. “The news that there was nowhere to have clothes tailored in Rhode Island, that American clothing was all ready-made, had come to his parents as a surprise.” When Subhash first takes Gauri shopping, “no one offered to help them” – unlike in India where Subhash is urged to “Come have a look. Have a cup of tea” when he buys a shawl for his mother and Gauri. Watching the news in Rhode Island, Gauri notes that it “was always the news of America” and not much else about the rest of the world. (“That hasn’t changed at all”, I tell myself) The space and the foliage in America – “At times, even now, Subhash could not fathom the extremes of his life: coming from a city with so little space for humans, arriving in a place where there was still so much of it to spare.”
The evocative prose of Jhumpa Lahiri – if I had to pick a favorite sentence in the entire book, it would be the one describing Subhash’s third Autumn in Rhode Island – “Once more the leaves of the trees lost their chlorophyll, replaced by the shades he had left behind: vivid hues of cayenne and turmeric and ginger pounded fresh every morning in the kitchen, to season the food his mother prepared.” And another description – that could have been beautiful, is terrifying in its macabre darkness – “water hyacinths shrouded the surface like a moth-eaten cloak” – after all, they do form a shroud for Udayan, do they not?!
There are anomalies big and small – after their registered marriage, Subhash takes Gauri “to apply for her passport, and then to the American consulate for her visa” – how can you apply for a visa without a passport??? Bela grows up to become like her father – in wanting to “make the world a better place”. Except her cause is a relatively peaceful one – she is devoted to the environment, agriculture and is periodically sending Subhash apples and pears from different farms. Whenever she comes to visit, “she would go to the health food store to buy: amaranth flakes, chunks of carob, herbal teas, butter made from almonds, milk derived from rice”. Yet in spite of all indications that she is vegan, she still has “two helpings of the lamb and rice” that Subhash makes. Gauri turns out to be as unconventional as her discerning mother-in-law observes, but a same-sex encounter – that puts her in a separate niche of her own. Maybe not so out of character, but a little shocking when it does happen. But the anomaly/omission that leaves me completely baffled, is that there is no mention of 9/11 even though all three – Subhash, Gauri *and* Bela – live in America. Moreover, Subhash’s pick-up/drop-off airport is Boston Logan, the take-off point for one of the planes that hit the Twin Towers. While it is not relevant to their personal stories and does not dramatically alter/shape their lives – still??? Even a page – or just a paragraph – a mere acknowledgement – would have made the story whole and complete. For an author who pours so much detail and care and thought into her characters, their evolving stories, historical facts etc., this small missing piece leaves a huge hole – the people the reader starts relating to and empathizing with, are reduced to being just characters in a book.