In 1992, with the Hindu-Muslim riots gently brewing in the backdrop, an unlikely camaraderie blossoms between two misfits; when Masher, a curious teenager suffering from a speech disorder and having perennially endured bullying in school, encounters Raem Andrew, a diffident and reclusive 21-year-old troubled by an awkward gait and endowed with non-native racial features. Their lives turn upside down when a bunch of ‘magical pills’ enter their lives, fuelling their dreams only to disfigure it over time.
Twenty years later, their lives collide with Reymerg D’Souza, a militant atheist-cum-media tycoon, who has genocidal plans for the religious.
The characters of this powerful debut novel linger within you like a haunting song from the past. Debutant novelist Mayur S. Sarfare surely has his fingers firmly placed on the human pulse. A tale told with such vivacity, about life, loss, love and change.
A visual journey through two parallel timelines, The Tonic, is set against a significant event in Indian history, where time plays a pivotal role in shaping the lives and beliefs of two teenagers, and a ‘magic pill’. This element of fantasy has a curious grip on the story, keeping the reader wondering, what would come up next!
As the story meanders through the minds of the teenagers and how their limitations impact their adult life, the reader has some nail-biting moments wondering ‘what next’ as the tables turn with the ‘magic pill’, heightening the anticipation about events to unfurl.
Every character in The Tonic has a certain kind of relatability, a sort of déjà vu, reminding the reader of perhaps someone they may have met. Maybe someone like Avantika Das, the ‘not-one-to-give-up’, feisty investigative journalist, or an Uncle Sam, who introduces the ‘magic pill’ to Masher, or Rheya, ‘the-crazy-about-dance-girl’. And this gets the reader more involved in a plotline that moves with such precision.
And this is what sets The Tonic apart from the jungle of books on stuffed shelves. The believability of the characters, the uncontaminated language and the fluidity in the storyline confirms the writer’s commitment to the ‘art of storytelling’. The essence of this novel lies in its intensity and profundity. This is not the kind of book that would leave you thrilled after flipping through the first few pages, but it’s a book that grows over you.
And long after it’s a wrap, the characters and their journey linger within you like a haunting song from the past.
The reviewer is a mass media professor at UPG College, University of Mumbai.