Isn’t it a pity that what we call a love story is almost always about romance, though it is only one of the many forms of love that human beings experience? What shape might a love story take if it chose to explore the ups and downs of a friendship rather than the conflict between romantic partners? How would it speak to people who have known and felt acutely the grief of losing a beloved friend but never found the space to process it fully, given the absence of songs, rituals and a vocabulary to help articulate it?
Annie Zaidi’s latest novel, The Comeback, makes one reflect on these questions as one gets deeply involved in the bromance between Jaun and Asghar that sours overnight and so badly that the latter does not want to see, hear or have anything to do with the former. Jaun is an actor who has just tasted the kind of success that he cannot handle. He shoots his mouth off in an interview, and ends up revealing a childhood secret that makes Asghar lose his job. Asghar is livid but he refuses to talk about his feelings. His wife Zubi and his mother Shakeela make up for his silence.
The premise is uncomplicated and the treatment is first-rate. The story is told from Jaun’s point of view. The author provides a ring-side view of the emotional turmoil that Jaun goes through after hurting his friend unintentionally, and his many attempts at making amends. In doing so, Zaidi also draws a convincing picture of how heterosexual men who deeply care about each other in a platonic way have such limited ways of being open and vulnerable about how they feel. Asghar shuts down completely and Jaun has no idea how to reach him.
The nature of their intimacy is established on the very first page of the book. Jaun, who has started calling himself John after moving to Mumbai to make it big in Bollywood, says, “I used to get drunk a few times a year and call him, raving and ranting about how I was passed over yet again, the injustice of it, and how I was sick of everyone, mostly myself.” At this point, Asghar is a patient listener, but his character undergoes a major transformation through the course of the novel. That is exciting to witness, especially because it involves a dramatic transition from his job as a reluctant banker to his first and most abiding love: theatre.
This is a novel waiting to be adapted into a movie, and hopefully a musical. Jaun has two love interests—Nazo and Sejal; there is ample scope for romantic songs. In fact, the novel is slightly reminiscent of the film Aaja Nachle (2007) that Jaideep Sahni wrote. Dia (played by Madhuri Dixit in the film) returns to her hometown Shamli and puts up a play with locals, many of whom have never acted before. Asghar does the same in his hometown, Baansa, which is not too far from Lucknow, when he is thrown out of his job after Jaun’s misstep.
In the acknowledgements, Zaidi notes that the novel’s genesis lies in her own experience of being “part of a community of producers, directors, actors, and writers in Mumbai”. No wonder the worldbuilding is so accurate and absorbing. She also wants readers to know that “passionate and talented theatre-makers are not just based in metropolises”, and this is done most affectionately in those parts of the novel that are set in Baansa. The happy end is a bit predictable, which is not a problem, but one wonders why it is so rushed.
The author seems aware of this, so she gets Jaun—the narrator—to say, “I suppose I ought to say that all’s well that ends well. Best that this story is wound up now because if you go on telling any story for too long, it always ends in tears.” Thankfully, these are happy tears.
About The Author
The reviewer is a writer, educator and researcher based in Mumbai
More Columns
The Pahalgam Attack: Pakistan’s bid to distract attention from troubles at home Saleem Pandit
Mossad unearths 'proof' of opposition's links with anti-Adani campaign Open
PM Modi vows to pursue Pahalgam terrorists, backers to the ends of the earth Ullekh NP