Deflated, the young man buys a wada and ceases and desists from making further innuendoes.
She replies coolly that she has a son his age and that she sells wadas to pay for the boy's school fees. When a new hawker, a woman, arrives at the gate of the school, one of the boys asks her whether her wadas are hot. Their conversation is ripe and ribald, peppered with words that suggest incest and lewd suggestions of all kinds. His father works in the city as most of the town does, except for Nikam Kaka who works in the municipality.Īt the heart of Mukund Joshi's world is his school, his new love Shirodkar, and his mates who rejoice in names like Surya and Phawdya.
(And so are they all extraordinary young men, in a long tradition that stretches back to Holden Caulfield.) He lives with his father, and mother, and extraordinarily sanctimonious elder sister, Ambabai, in a town just outside the great city, from which various intimations of excitement come. I didn't think a fourteen-year-old experiencing the pangs of new love would be able to hold me over nearly 400 pages but Mukund Joshi is an extraordinary young man. Milind Bokil's Shala, translated by Vikrant Pandit, is a tour de force.
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