The line that separates fact from fiction may appear obvious to some and not so to the others. In the case of Arnunava Varman, the “teller of tales”, obfuscation of reality is deliberate and voluntary. It rattles his friend and confidante Tapan, who is unable to figure out why Arunava trespasses guiltlessly into the realm of fiction. The Teller of Tales, in its quest for “truth”, meanders through whirlpools of stories created by Arnunava.
The novel, a first work of fiction by Bhaskar Ghose, spans the life of the two men, Arunava and Tapan, and their worlds, fictional and real.
Ghose had joined the Indian Administrative Service in 1960 and served for 36 years. His two prime characters are also civil servants who meet as junior officers posted in Bengal. Ghose recounts the “curious” chain of events that led him to write a novel following his two works of non-fiction: Doordashan Days and The Service of the State: The IAS reconsidered.
After his second book, Ghose says, he discussed with his editor, how a significant part of the national heritage, the circuit houses, had faded away in history. The circuit houses were made in the time of the British when they had only few judges went on their circuit through the districts and hold courts, he says.
A number of circuit houses have been built on extremely picturesque locations and are of architectural and historic value. There were also anecdotes floating around relating to these circuit houses. “Stories of failed romances or wandering ghosts… One could always dig around and ask people and could come up with interesting results,” he adds. However, Ghose says he realised that a book on this subject was not workable due to requirements of travel and photographer etc. It was at that time that they thought that a novel could be worked upon using these anecdotes.
Arunava and Tapan meet for the first time in a circuit house in Cooch Behar “it had actually been the maharaja’s guest house for those not considered suitable to be kept at the royal palace.”
Their partnership of stories begins with Arunava narrating tales relating to their boss and his fondness for throwing parties. At a rest house in Rambhi,
Arunava tells a story of his encounter with the resident ghost. At a later meeting in Darjeeling, he relates how he had a false ghost alarm in a forest bungalow in Nilpara.
As the stories keep pouring in and their comradie grows, Tapan realises that there was very little that Arunava revealed about himself though he always had a story to cut into every discussion.
It becomes clear to Tapan that away from the world of babus and its stories, Arunava had his own sense of reality into which no one was admitted. A suspicious Tapan digs in to check the veracity of Arunava’s spectacular stories and is surprised with the results.
As cracks appear in Arunava’s tales, basis of reality come into question. Ghose says he intended the story to disturb the accepted and stereotypical notions of truth.
When Tapan tries to corner his friend for telling him false tales, Arunava questions his ideas of fiction and reality and in turn forces the reader to introspect.
Ghose, who has been involved with theatre for nearly fifty years and has acted in and directed over forty plays uses the dual reality of theatre in his novel as well. Both Arunava and Tapan are also part of the theatre group “Delhi Player” and work together in plays. “I used theatre because it’s a part of this world of make-believe,” says Ghose.
Arunava justifies his fictionalised view of reality in terms of theatre, “When it happened, that was reality; there between Theseus and Hippolytos, between Hippolytos and Phaedra… the fact that we were actors on a stage and there were people sitting in the auditorium watching was just as real. Imagination was the prism between the two”.
Despite the obvious comparisons, Ghose says the novel is not autobiographical.
“As I began to write, the book overtook me and they became figures that were intensely real but not autobiographical. In the course of writing the characters begin to tell you which way they want to go. They just happened. It had nothing to do with me or my life,” he says.
The tales told by Arunava take a complex turn when real people from immediate surroundings come into picture and Tapan, disturbed by his friend’s constant lying, crosschecks facts and his pursuit of truth leads him to dark secrets of Arunava’s life. Loss, love and loneliness appear in the spate of the story and are handled with insight and discretion.
The author shows excellent understanding of human emotions which is the cornerstone of his novel.
Ghose says his first experiments with writing began at the early age of sixteen, when he had a readership of two: his younger sisters. “They would sit absolutely quiet and wait while I would be at my father’s typewriter and once I was done I would give the paper to one and she would read and pass it on to the other and wait again for the next sheet. We would keep at it for hours,” he says. Asked if he did not think of writing the story as a play, given his long association with theatre, he says, “I don’t think I can write a play for I wouldn’t be able to construct it. Even after all these years, I don’t understand how playwrights do it.”
The texture of the novel, however, is much like that of a play with quick and easy dialogue and well-carved scenes. Ghose admits it could be spin-off of his long years with theatre, “or perhaps an attempt to make it true to life,” he adds.

Ghose laughs off question about his next book but his bank of stories definitely looks stocked with a lot more.