Neti, Neti | Not This, Not This

by Anjum Hasan

Twenty-five-year-old Sophie Das has moved from Shillong to Bangalore in search of work, fun and liberty. Neti, Neti follows Sophie and her free-spirited friends through offices, pubs, call centres, night streets, shopping malls, rock concerts, and the homes of Bangalore’s newly rich, as Sophie starts to feel more and more alienated in the money-mad city. A horrific murder sends her back to her hometown, where her Hamlet-quoting father and increasingly religious mother are chasing their separate dreams.
Will Sophie be able to pull back from the brink and find herself a home?

Genres: Fiction

288 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Anjum Hasan is an Indian poet and novelist. She was born in Shillong, Meghalaya and currently lives in Bangalore, India. She has also contributed poems, articles and short stories to various national and international publications.

Anjum is Books Editor, The Caravan.

Reviews

[Amy · Rating 2 out of 5]

The angst of young, newly affluent India + every tragedy the author could think of to throw at his main character = a very depressing novel. The writing's not bad, though, and the author's descriptions make the setting very real.

[Manu · Rating 3 out of 5]

Before anything else, the summary on the back of the book - the same one you read above does not really do justice to what the book is about. That's just a perspective. Though indeed, it is about Sophie, a girl from Shillong who came to Bangalore to work with a book publishing company and ended up in a US-based company that outsources the subtitling of DVDs and her increasing sense of being out-of-place in the growing metropolis, I thought it did dwell a lot on what the idea of home is to a person, and how time and situations change the idea and affect this relationship.

The other facet of the book is how the author uses Sophie's Shillong origin to portray just how different the North East is from the rest of the country. So this becomes a layer that goes beyond the stereotyped small to big town transition angst.

The paradox, however is that Sophie is someone many people can identify with - someone who contemplates what this entire game of living is all about. And it is through these eyes that the author zips through the age old debates of culture/modernisation, young/old, east/west etc, the cliches of the modern Indian metro - malls, new age spiritual gurus, midnight parties in high rise apartments, work relationships, pubs, the influx of quick money, changing lifestyles and so on, and the drama in the daily grind. The disenchantment with her new and old 'homes' is something I could completely relate to.

Anjum Hasan is a prose artist. While I've not been to Shillong, the way she has captured Bangalore makes me feel that when I land up in Shillong, I'll get a sense of deja vu. When you add to this some superb wit, and a penchant for subtlety, you get a book that's quite easily worth a read.

I read in a few reviews that Sophie's character is from Hasan's earlier work "Lunatic In My head". Couple that with the fact that she has opted for quite an unconventional ending, and I begin to hope that there is another book in the making, in which Sophie gets out of her disillusionment. That'll be a journey worth waiting for.

[Deepti · Rating 4 out of 5]

I took ages to get through this book. Not because I found it tedious, but because I had to stop and think so much at every page. I could see myself in Sophie Das - asking questions with no real answers, trying desperately to pull together the threads of my life while acknowledging somewhere in my mind that this very chaos is what my drama is. I could see my family is Sophie's - all together but each alone, everyone treating everyone else with that mixture of fear and suspicion hidden behind the affection. And most of all, I could understand Sophie's mixture of frustration and confusion at trying to understand the town that is your home.
I love Bangalore, and I found myself arguing in an angry rebuttal at Sophie's descriptions of it. I've been to Shillong, and I found myself wishing people from the NE would stop celebrating this one little town so much. Not that I hated Anjum Hasan for it - I liked it. Hasan brought up questions most people never dare to ask themselves about where they are from and where they are going. Mostly about where they actually want to end up. There is no doubt that Hasan knows both places well, loves one dearly, and is, like Sophie, trying to find something to love about the other. Some of her metaphors, descriptions and similes hit home so clearly that I was blown away. This is what Indian writing in English should be like. This is the kind of writer I would like to be.
However, I did find it a bit disappointing that Anjum Hasan falls upon regular city-disillusionment rhetoric in her writing. The themes she deals with are not new to IWE, and I think as a promising writer she should explore others as well.

[Aditi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Liked it, didn't love it.I've read Lunatic in my Head as well, and they both work as intimate novels about the protagonist but aren't particularly moving books. In Neti, Neti Sophie moves from Shillong to Bangalore but has to deal with unresolved issues at home, with love, with work and the city. The book works well (surprisingly) as an account of the way young people live in the city, and the Dylan incident in Shillong would have made a strong short story by itself.

[Joseph Rai · Rating 3 out of 5]

Small town girls and boys step into city life with an eye on unrestricted freedom, soaring success, cool friends to party with and lots of money. They also probably enter the metropolis with a vague feeling to permanently abandon the old life for good.

It is no different for twenty-five-year old Sophie Das when she leaves the quaint hill station Shillong for Bangalore of some years back. But soon she gets a reality check.

Those who’ve had to tackle their ever nagging and nosy landlord living right across the street or in the same building will understand better what you get in terms of the unrestricted freedom you had hoped for.

Therefore frequent face-offs with her landlord over petty matters, the tediousness of work and the harsh life of the city begin to get the better of her.

Even her decent boyfriend Swami and her handful of friends fail to keep her sanity intact. In fact they confuse her.

So Sophie decides to take a break and visit her home town for sometime even as she is aware that home has its own set of problems.

There is an interesting sequence on the much awaited visit by Bob Dylan to the hill station, and the political state of Shillong, giving a glimpse into the culture and lifestyle of the region.

The underlying theme of the novel of Sophie debating over whether she should cling to her roots and give up the idea of Bangalore altogether is dealt well. So will she leave the city? Would you too eventually if you are from a small town and working/studying in a metropolis?

The novelist Anjum Hasan, with a smooth prose and a host of brilliant lines, succeeds quite well in describing the life of a young working professional in the city. Mall visits, pub hopping and parties at rich friend’s house episodes are believable. However, a well rounded picture of the various aspects of Bangalore does not come out so vividly. But yes a lot of you there from the northeastern region should be able to relate to the book and love it.

[Anangsha Alammyan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Neti, Neti follows the journey of Sophie Das - a 25-year-old from Shillong living in Bangalore - as she bumbles on through life, making mistakes, learning from them, losing friends and gaining lessons all along. As a woman from the North-Eastern part of India, I could relate to a lot of descriptions in the book and could feel Sophie's sense of claustrophobia as she stars at the buildings all around her in the sprawling city of Bangalore.

This is a delightful read. I found myself highlighting several of the passages because of the sheer beauty of the prose. The characters - though people you could meet on a daily basis - were full of intricacies with rich back-stories to flesh them up.

I had thought Arundhati Roy was going to be my favourite Indian author, but Anjum Hasan comes a close second. Looking forward to reading more books from the author. Highly recommend.

[Eden ཐིiཋྀ ⭒ .ﾟ*.ﾟ · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jag brukar läsa ut böcker på ett par dagar, men det är oftast YA böcker och liknande, medan böcker som riktar sig till vuxna eller t.ex. faktaböcker och biografier brukar ta lite längre tid. Det tog ändå en vecka för mig att läsa denna, vilket är mer tid än ungdomsböcker, men mindre tid än faktaböcker. Jag skulle säga att detta är en bok som i tanken är skriven för vuxna, eller åtminstone äldre och de böckerna brukar ha en annan takt och skrivsätt, och jag är inte riktigt van vid det så därför tog det lite längre tid.

Tyckte om boken lagom bra. Historien, eller rättare sagt sammanfattningen av historien väckte egentligen inte jättemycket intresse för mig att läsa den, det var när jag kom till den sista meningen "en varm skildring av rotlöshet och jakten på någon sorts mening med livet" (och att den utspelar sig i Indien, vilket jag på sistone blivit väldigt intresserad av) som jag kände att jag ville läsa den. Jag gillar alltid böcker som på något sätt kan sätta ord på rastlösheten, meningslösheten jag känner över livet, och denna gör det. Det var flera gånger författaren, Anjum, satte ord på hur jag känner.
Jag gillar också att huvudkaraktären, Sophie, tänker väldigt likt mig. Jag har svårt för att bara följa med strömmen, och göra "det jag ska göra" utan att övertänka och reflektera över allting, tänka på sakerna under ytan. Några gånger gillade jag inte Sophie så mycket pga. hur hon ofta ville att andra skulle vara lite som hon ville och när personerna var sina egna personer och inte som Sophie ville att de skulle vara så kunde hon vara otrevlig. Men det är en sak jag kan förstå, när man inte känner att någon alls tänker på samma sätt som en eller ser på världen som en själv, så kan man bli irriterad på att andra människor är som dem är. I feel ya.

Några citat som jag känner sätter ord på något jag känner väldigt bra:

"Hur kunde det vara så att en flaska Coca cola, ett par sandaler, nagellack i en viss färg, en ny anteckningsbok med rena vita sidor en gång i tiden hade varit saker som var så fyllda med dolda känslor att de kunde lindra all sorts lidande - känslan av att långsamt avlida av tristess, tron att man saknade personlighet, övertygelsen om att man skulle dö utan att bli älskad, rädslan av att ingen förstod? Saker hade en gång haft essenser som de sakta gav ifrån sig, som fyllde långa, tomma dagar och gjorde tiden uthärdlig. När de nu hade förökat sig - alla dessa saker hon längtade efter under sin barndom - var det som om de hade inneslutits i sina hårda, stängda skal och inte var mer än det de kunde användas till" s. 77.

"Det där är den lätta vägen ut. Du borde tänka på det här. Kanske har vi alla sett så många filmer att det är inbyggt i våra hjärnor - tanken att det finns ett tillfälle då allt löser sig. Kanske finns det inget sånt tillfälle. Fattar du? Kanske är det illusionen vi jagar och så gråter vi när vi ser den på bioduken." s. 124

"Och Sophie som stod där och blinkade greps plötsligt av en stark känsla av förvirring. *Vilka var de här människorna och varför var hon här?* För ett ögonblick hade hon ingen aning." s. 125. Så här kan jag också känna vissa stunder när jag umgås med vänner, eller är i skolan, eller i affären, eller till och med min familj, när de lever sina liv och har vardagliga samtal, så undrar jag varför jag är där. Vilka de är. Vem jag är.

"Det var den typen av svar Sophie letade efter - sanningen om människors känslor, logiken bakom människors motiv. ... och insåg att hennes strävan sett likadan ut när hon var arton, när hon var tolv, när hon var åtta och började förstå att vuxna människor aldrig la märkte till någonting." s. 155

"Hon såg inte sina barndomsfantasier återspegla sig när hon såg ut den här gången, utan bara vad som verkligen var där - kalla rosa och gröna lådhus i betong som hade byggts av folk som inte brydde sig om Skönhet, folk som kanske för en eftermiddag skulle uppskatta de vita forsarna i Elephant falls, eller Umiamsjöns gröna vidd, men som för det mesta inte tänkte på vad de såg utanför sina fönster." s. 202

"... även om Sophie inte lyckades komma in på ett utländskt universitet, även om herr Das aldrig skulle bli professor, även om Muku var obotlig, så fanns det alltid en frukost som skulle lagas varje morgon, en skola att åka till, knapparna som skulle sys i, inköpslistorna som skulle skrivas, teveprogrammen att se på..." s. 224

"Det är det som är problemet med hjärndöda människor, tänkte Sophie. De antar att alla andra också är hjärndöda". s. 276

[Vaidya · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘When will it all end?’

And from somewhere in the jumble of non sequiturs that was her mind, Killer Queen drew out a miraculously logical answer. ‘It will end on the last page’.

“Neti, Neti” expands to “Na-iti, Na-iti”, the Sanskrit for “Not this, not this” literally. More semantically it is meant to mean “Neither this, nor that”. Metaphorically, it is Sophie Das’ search for Home – her own Shillong and the bigger and glitzier Bangalore. Which one will it be? Where will she fit in? Where can she fit in?

Feeling lost, having been kicked out of one’s own childhood, struggling to settle into the mirage that adulthood is. The story of everyone in his/her 20s. Can you go back to your Home when adulthood doesn’t work for you? That job that you did not like, or was kicked out from? That relationship that did not work out? Will that “home” still be there for you? Will it still be “home” for that matter?

This is a bildungsroman, tracing the growing up of Sophie Das, the same Sophie we see in Lunatic in my head as an 8 year old, troubled and confused over her parents, who are dealing with their own crises. There was Firdaus, who was the Sophie Das of NN, Aman, struggling to figure out what comes next after college. Indifferent, absent parents.

And there was Shillong. A small town, standing in the background, which everyone hates, and wants to leave, but struggling to get used to anywhere else. “It’s hot and dusty in the plains. And they call us Chinese.” They come straight back Home.

And there is Bangalore in NN, the stand-in for the big, bad city that lures you in with its promises of riches, of its happily ever afters with cars, apartments, movies and a Life. Except that it’s a chase all over again. For the US, for the UK, for Australia. For a different Happily Ever After where you don’t have to struggle so much, or deal with the dust or traffic or the cops who speak their own language. Some promised land where you can belong. Or just a ceaseless aspiration for something better? Feels like your 20s?

There is a restlessness about the way Hasan writes that makes you feel claustrophobic. Shillong, with its wetness, its coolness, and with its trapped residents. Some having moved in to escape their lives in the plains, now unable to leave. Those who grew up here without ever having a claim, the dhkaar. Then the locals who belong, but struggle to come to terms with the changing facades. “There is no hope here.”

Then there is Bangalore. Fast moving, stuck in a state of perennial movement, unable to stop. Cars, apartments, places to live, the next promotion. Things to constantly lure you on, to keep you on the treadmill. How do you stop? How do you get off? What happens when you do that?

Hasan’s description of Bangalore is chilly, sterile, like the glass buildings that dot the city. Yes, there is the tendency to pitch in as many tropes as possible. The traffic, the language issues, the taps running dry, the pseudo gurus. But there’s an interconnectedness that she tries to show, which fails to come off. In a city where you can go years before seeing someone you know on the street, it is hard to believe that the same characters keep bumping into each other and someone seems to know some other character through some connection. And most of them stand in for some bashing about the city.

But the alienation stands out. You’re on your own most of the time. There can be some help from your friends, but do not count on it all the time. It can be as claustrophobic as a small town and the only way to escape is to get on the treadmill and run with the rest.

There was C.K Meena’s Black lentil doughnuts, another excellent take on alienation in Bangalore, but eventually coming to terms with it, loving it and making one’s home here. But that was a different Bangalore, a small town of the 80s that we all loved, with the action in Cubbon Park or Queen’s Road, with Koshy’s and Church street as the hangouts. This is the one of the BPO-IT-BT revolution. Faster, glitzier, scarier. Action happening on Airport Road, or Indira nagar, with unnamed pubs in distant corners. But you still have to come to terms with it, and get to love it. What other option is there? Where people wrote books like “Bangalore Calling” and underlined the valueless, money driven nature of the city, Hasan’s Bangalore is a similar beast, but with a lot more sympathy for it. Do we make the City, or does the City make us?

I found the choice of Bangalore interesting. In many ways, this is a truly non-local city. Those who come from outside struggle to make sense of the city as much as those who lived here and grew up here. Only difference is that we, the latter, keep searching for the city we grew up in, in place, finding some hidden vestiges until time takes those too. Others go Home for their holidays and perform the same search in their changing towns. Where is the constancy one can hold on to and say “this is it, this is it”?

***

That feeling of being in your 20s, of feeling unmoored, looking back and seeing Home drift away, at once wanting to go back, and then also wanting to escape from what it all means. Going home again, to want to leave again. To want to develop roots elsewhere, while knowing that you left them elsewhere and can’t grow them back.

NN doesn’t end on the last page. Like life, the search for Home goes on. You just make your peace with what there is, and call it one. Until the next calling or the next shove.

LIMH ends with a degree of peace. A pause from the vagaries of life. Before they take off again. There is no ‘THE END’. Only an ‘Until next time’.

[Keerti R · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really, really enjoyed the reading experience of this novel. Something about seeing Bengaluru through the perspective of Sophie was quite satisfying. The content and depiction of "new-age" city life wasn't up my alley, but the writerly eye and focus was what pulled me through this novel. I can't wait to see what happens when Anjum Hasan moves her writerly concerns onto something larger, more meaningful, and ambitious.

Will certainly need to read more of her work. 4/5.

[Abhishek Ghosh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe 3.5?

[Moushumi Ghosh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Continuing the adventures of Sophie Das from "Lunatic in my Head", the book shifts base from Shillong to Bangalore. The ennui of being stuck in a place that does nothing to nourish the soul is described well. Sophie is a lost girl in a big city. But it's not the size but the insensitivity of the city that impresses itself like a fingerprint on her soul. Read if you like Hasan's "Lunatic in my Head."

[Asha]

The book i read and i have a copy with me is Neti Neti Not This Not That by L.C. Bekett not the one by Anjum Hasan, which i have not read. As i could not find the title and auther i had write this.
Please if anybody knows where to find the title on Amezon guide me .This is a great book.

[Divya Purandar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply Loved it! A must read for a Bangalorean! Loved her take on the city!

[Supriya · Rating 3 out of 5]

unusual book and explains well the perspectives of a young girl from the NorthEast living in Bangalore.

[gramakri · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story seems to be a realistic portrayal of Generation Ys in Bangalore.
Read more about this book at
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