Manil Suri’s novel is like a ‘masala movie’ — a Bombay mix of genres, spicy, often subtle, often corny, and distinctly addictive. It is difficult to pin down its overriding flavour. A reviewer on the back cover notes that ‘Manil Suri has been likened to Narayan, Coetzee, Chekhov and Flaubert’; but there are twinkly sprinklings of Armistead Maupin and Frank L. Baum, and a strong dash of apocalyptic thriller.
The City of Devi is the third and most flamboyant of a trilogy, each volume named after a Hindu deity. After The Death of Vishnu and The Age of Shiva, readers who know the Hindu trimurti might have expected Brahma the Creator to complete the trinity. As one of the characters in the novel argues, however, ‘creation comes from the womb’ (though surely birth via a lotus flower from the male navel has distinct advantages over a method I have found to be painful, messy and dangerously inefficient); and the proposed substitute is ‘the mother goddess, Devi.’ And Mumba-devi is the patron deity of Mumbai, Suri’s own mother city, which is central to this novel.
It is a city which, at the beginning of the novel, is threatened with nuclear annihilation in four days’ time. Religious tensions have been inflamed by a Bollywood hit, Super-devi, a mixture of Slumdog Millionaire and Superman. Opportunistic extremists are exploiting bloodthirsty Hindu and Muslim mobs; relations between India and Pakistan have reached meltdown; cyber-attacks and terrorist bombs have destroyed communication by internet and phone; rumours and violence proliferate.
In the remnants of Crawford Market, Sarita is set upon buying the last pomegranate in Mumbai, which ‘instinct’ tells her she needs for her ‘quest’ to find her missing husband, Karun, who has disappeared from a scientific conference.
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