No words raise alarm flags that say “desperate attempt to be crossover” or “was Indian in previous birth” than “Karma”. Then the blurb talks about “vast landscape”. I do not wish to be subjected to yet another foreigner “experiencing India” or an NRI discovering her roots...
The novel Stealing Karma is set in the Savannah. When you’ve seen the Savannah — and I am glad I did — you’ll understand why authors who write about Africa cannot stop mentioning the word “expanse”. No words can explain the sheer vastness of the Savannah. The possibility of seeing 120 miles ahead is not easy to explain.
What does this have to do with the book, you say? Stealing Karma does just that. It is insightful and intimate. I admit vastness and intimacy seems to be contradictory. Maybe that is why Coleridge quoted at the start is your clue: “Looking at one’s soul through a telescope.” The author manages to make something as simple as watching your child sleep into a huge experience. Sample this:
“Shanti lay there, her thin body shivering. It broke Mira’s heart to see her struggle. Perhaps this was just something that happened to all mothers. All you want is for your children to be happy, but the gods don’t always listen to you.
The thing about Mira was that she could not be clever. She had no explanations other than the most simple, no reasons to offer Shanti, nothing to repair the breach that had grown between them. Not even an attempt to veil the walls they’d built around each other.”
This is a story about the relationship between a mother and daughter. And that would be an understatement. Aneesha Capur weaves in the setting so beautifully and sensitively that you need solitude (so no one would see you being overwhelmed by a book), several cups of tea (when you are eavesdropping into someone’s life, tea is a huge support) and frangipani flowers in a bowl (not really necessary, because the book is fragrant with imagery) to sigh into.
It would be easy to quote from the book and the instance of the mother watching her daughter sleep is not really any important turning point in the narrative, but it is one of the many pointers into the luminous quality of the tale. It sheds a warm sunset like light on all events: Mira being seduced by Toby with the turban, Mira’s cooking with guilt, Mira’s uneasy connections with people from the community, the easy yet complicated connect with her servant.
It’s not that it is tedious, but just that the book stays with you through the day. It is not exactly a one-sitting book. It compels you to dwell on the words. And in a world that is sinking with mostly flippant chick-lit and easy urban tales narrated by clever chaps, this book is a welcome change. You will find yourself putting a finger on the page and hugging the book. You will find yourself sighing into its events, even staring out of your window because the author has observed minutely and expressed beautifully thoughts that have crossed your head.
Find time to enjoy this book. It is a book that pleases parts of you that you thought were made insensitive by the quantity you will find stuffed in our bookstores today.

Manisha Lakhe is the author of The Betelnut Killers