In several (a word here meaning: at least two) genres of Indian classical music, there’s this idea of certain ragas being associated with c...
In several (a word here meaning: at least two) genres of Indian classical music, there’s this idea of certain ragas being associated with certain times of the day. If that notion had a literary counterpart, House Next to the Factory would undoubtedly be a collection of evening stories. They all have a soft, melancholic, dusky quality to them.
They are not big on strenuous action or sweeping romance (neither lusty vigour nor vigorous lust, if you will). This is more of a hill station collection (hill stations are in fact the setting for one of them). A chai-biscuit kind of collection. Masala chai, maybe. But still.
This isn’t a complaint in and of itself – not every movie needs to be a Salman Khan starrer, after all (most movies are not, but I digress), and I did read the whole thing in one sitting, for which its shortness deserves only partial credit. A story doesn’t need to be rich in plot / themes / character / writing, so long as it can find something to be rich in. If I had a complaint, it would be that the chai could stand to be a little stronger, that’s all.
Muted sadness
The factory in the title appears to be...
