It was on the wings of his skillful prose that the new Ramayan came into being. The Prince of Ayodhya, the first book in the series, is peopled with a very human king and four princes, a bold Kaushalya and a Kaikeyi unfettered by the norms of our times.
If the mythical Jatayu glides through the pages weaving in and out of the narrative with its plaintive cry, “Ra-van-a!”, so too does Banker underline the retelling with his contemporary language and imagery that brings to immediate recall Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.
“Many critics have drawn this comparison,” says Banker, “But the fantasy that Tolkien is so famous for, has been a part of Indian literature so many thousands of years before.” A fantasy that Banker recreates for a “21st century” audience, drawing from “all the versions of the Ramayan”, from Valmiki’s to Tulsidas and even Kamban. It could be seen as an ambitious project, but the man who sees himself as a writer first, has already completed the seven books that make the series; and can’t wait to begin the Mahabharat, that is his next project. “If the Ramayan has made seven books and over a million words, the next project is working out to be two and a half times over!” says he.
For as the Bombay-based Ashok Banker says, he had a very private motive – to tell himself the story! The stories that he ached to read as a child, the stories he sought – the very stories he wishes to make available for his children to read when they grow up. “There are so many tales waiting to be told,” says he.
The author who was forced to begin working at age 17 admits to having no fixed ambition but says that all he wished to do then was write. But ‘Life intervened’ as this career plan was cut short by personal tragedy. “My mother was psychotic,” he recalls, “Her family abandoned her – and so had my father, many years before.” With the responsibility of eking out a living and taking care of his mother, Banker chose the only way out – a regular job. “I had a choice between opting for a trainee job at The Times of India for a monthly pay of Rs250,” he smiles, “And a copywriter’s job that offered me Rs800. No guesses as to which one I took.”
Ashok juggled the needs of reality with his craving to write – and admits, “I was a hack. It was a toss up – do I take up a call center job, work at nights and write out my Great Piece of Literature during the day… or do I take up a whole lot of writing jobs that I may not like but that would keep me going…?” About fifteen years later, after his mother’s death in 1990, Ashok began to explore the world of writing – beginning with three crime novels, children’s books. But, “I didn’t find what I really wanted to do.” Soon followed a couple of autobiographical novels, Vertigo and Byculla Boy, both of which described his `coming to terms’ with his mother’s condition.
The man who wanted to write stories, `real stories and not literary masterworks’, has found his peace – the Ramayan, just one among the tales he wants to tell, is already wrapped up. “I have done something that is new and original,” he laughs, “Despite the fact that I am merely retelling a tale that was told thousands of years ago.”
The first has already caught the limelight, Prince of Ayodhya having sold out the first two editions and into its third. And the self-confessed “private person” whose life is all about writing and family, plans to retreat into his “writing hole” once the media shindig around the book is over.
But for readers enthralled with the scope of promise that Prince of Ayodhya offers – it is certainly a brave new book – the fun has just begun.
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