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The Rise of the Dawn: A novel by Shruti Chandra Gupta

The Rise of the Dawn tells the story of a young man who becomes a social handicap because of his need to avoid his past. His dead sister, tyrannical father and loving mother find a way to reach him; through dreams. After years of living in isolation, it is the love of two women that helps him awaken the strength to confront and accept his past.

The novel explores the trinity of past, present and future; the swing of banality and high drama; and the eternal conflict between what is and what should be.

Here is an extract from the novel:

“While Devan was brooding at Saleem’s, the combination of Mithu’s imaginative mind and loose tongue was coloring people’s minds. Like an author mirrors life into his works, Mithu designed the pieces of his story in such a way that fiction mixed in facts like salt in water, so that nobody could separate the salt and make the water clean again.

So many things were happening simultaneously. He was sitting at Saleem’s thinking what to do; Mithu was injecting stories into the minds of people; Mina was hopeful of the future; Pyarelal was thinking of talking to Leela Lochan about a marriage; Mrs. Lochan, oblivious of it all, was happily living in a world she preferred to live in; Jowaki was hurt, but hopeful; and Devan was sitting at Saleem’s thinking what to do. All these people, who would make a difference to his life, all their thoughts were coming together to create his destiny. And his thoughts were intertwined in theirs so that he was making their destinies; Jowaki’s, Leela Lochan’s, Mrs. Lochan’s, Mina’s, Shailendra’s (whom he had never met), Bhupendra Katyal’s and others whom he did not even know. All of them were also creating destinies of numerous others and in turn getting theirs created by someone else. Devan was deeply contemplating which path to choose while Mithu was creating for him the only path he would have.

People who heard it were shocked. Their ears twitched, their eyes became wide and scandalized. Their tongues wagged in secrecy. Their minds imagined the story, extending and subtracting the parts they liked or disliked. And thus it moved on. The whole caravan of the story moved on, changing its shape as it passed through lanes and streets and houses, so that by the end, it was no longer a caravan. It had changed into a monster, a formless monster nobody had ever seen or heard of. It scared them. The story of Mina and Devan; the story of their love making; of Devan’s betrayal of his host, the good and kind Leela Lochan; of Devan’s treachery in return for his kindness; of his seducing the daughter when the house was empty; his designs on the daughter and her property; this outsider’s attack on the honor of the natives of the hills; this monster seducing our daughters and wives; this incarnation of evil; this filthy man taking away our culture; this enemy of our people. We cannot tolerate it, we cannot see our daughters being raped by outsiders, we cannot let evil remain in our town. If we don’t kill this monster, others like him will germinate in Chakori. Our mothers and daughters will be turned into whores. The story moved around the town lighting fire in all hearts, so that by the end of the week the whole town was ablaze.

Meanwhile, Devan had decided to ask Leela Lochan for Mina’s hand, as he thought it was the most honorable way out of the predicament in which he found himself. In less than a week, he had turned into a bearded and weary man. He decided it was to be today. For the occasion, which had turned into a life and death matter for him, he got dressed. He took out the new sweater and muffler he had bought from Binaki. He shaved his beard, took a bath and combed his hair neatly. Deserting his loose flip-flap pants, he chose the more appropriate straight pants. By the end of it, he looked like a gentleman, to whom a father could think about giving away his daughter’s hand.

As soon as the clock stuck four, he walked downstairs with the words held up in his mouth. He opened the door and saw Leela Lochan’s blood red face. He thought he was in a bad mood, so he walked up to his chair and sat down. Leela Lochan rushed towards him, picked him up by his collars and shook him so hard that he thought his teeth would fall off.
‘You son of a pig! I will kill you with my bare hands. I will rip off your flesh from your bones,’ he screamed, shaking with rage.
Devan could have defended himself from the attack if he knew what was the reason for the wrath. It was queer that he was the only one who didn’t know the story in which he was the villain. He thought Leela Lochan was having a fit.
‘Mina! Bring the syringes!’ he screamed, gripping his strong hands.
It was like oil on fire. Leela Lochan loosened his hand from Devan’s grip and slapped him hard on the face. Devan was mad with rage.
‘Get this maniac out of here,’ he screamed.
Mina held her father tightly, begging him to leave Devan, but she couldn’t move him an inch.
‘Ma! Ma! Mummy, please!’ she cried out.
Mrs. Lochan slowly got up and took her revenge. She slapped her husband with all her might and stared him down so daringly that Leela Lochan calmed down a little, loosening his grip on Devan. As if her part in the drama was over, she laconically sank into her seat and turned her face away.”