Roar

The title does not lie – this story never lets up in expressing its fury about the position of women in modern India, particularly those from the lower castes. Its main character seventeen year old Rizu, herself from a comfortably off home, witnesses the murder of her loving and innocent servant-companion Jaya, accused of being a witch. As it is, witch trials accounted for 2500 deaths carried out between 1995 and 2009, with many more after that. Jaya in this instance is blamed for an outbreak of sorcery engineered by Rizu’s rich one-time friend Sonu but now bitter enemy after boyfriend trouble between them. With Rizu threatened by a local witch doctor, her father fatally shifts the blame to Jaya to save his family.

Unable to live with this guilt, Rizu runs away and joins a militant feminine group loosely based on the exploits of Phoolan Devi, once notorious as India’s Bandit Queen. By this time she has given up hope of getting social change through slow court processes, turning to arson and even assassination instead. But in time she repents, with her old enemy Sonu now cooperating in building schools for the poorest children.

This turbulent tale is narrated in a series of first person confessionals all conducted in blank verse, occasionally interrupted by rhyming couplets. The only criticism is that this powerful story opens with a somewhat woozy prologue. The publishers would be well advised to add a note to the effect that many customers might want to fast forward to page 16, when the main narrative starts. For this is a book too good to risk missing because of its slow start. For the rest of the time it is gripping, remorseless and profoundly moving. It more than deserves to be read.