Not a very prolific writer, Bhaichand Patel’s books about high living standards and movie stars are wildly read. ‘Across the River’ is his second attempt at fiction after more than ten years. Patel showed courage in choosing a theme of a politically incorrect romance between a Muslim girl living a precarious existence in Old Delhi and a Gujarati Hindu factory magnate across the river in East Delhi.


Patel includes quite a few characters in his slim novel, allowing it to race forward smoothly with plenty of unlikely twists. The female lead Seema Chowdhry was rejected several times without a hijab and was mistaken for a Hindu when she went for a job interview without a headscarf. The starting point is when Seema’s true identity as a Muslim is revealed, long after a romance has developed with the businessman’s son.


The plot had the potential for intensity, but Patel takes the easy way out of almost every confrontational situation. The vehemently opposed industrial magnate conveniently dies when Mohan and Seema’s relationship is at a razor’s edge. The Gujarati girl whose parents wanted Mohan to marry promptly confesses that she is in love with someone else. Before Seema’s identity as a Muslim is revealed, she impresses Mohan’s parents by beating him in a tennis match. Only then, three-quarters of the way through the novel, do we learn that Seema is also an accomplished athlete.


Her Muslim uncle, who flew into a rage upon learning of Seema’s affair, incongruously melts down and becomes conciliatory after traveling all the way from Old Delhi to Noida to corner Mohan’s father. Far too often, Patel has gone full circle in his overzealousness to advance the plot.


Where he shines is in his portrayal of the rise of the Gujarati family over the decades, as well as the messiness that accompanies business and politics, especially during the License-Permit Raj. But that’s not unusual. It is a story well known to the people of Delhi and best exemplified by that of Lala Shri Ram from the same streets of Old Delhi.


Despite staying in Delhi, Patel has clearly limited himself to the cool parts, where he is known for throwing high-voltage parties. Otherwise, he would have known that there are no queues for buses in Delhi, especially when it rains. Or that Old Delhi is much more than a window seen through a spider web of threads. The neat ending where all the young people who populate the novel find their soulmates is too improbable for today’s times.



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