The bright colors fade rapidly

The first book of Naipaul's that read was about the old country.  His old country too, in a way.  India: A Wounded Civilization.

I was blown away by that book.  It was the first one that I read that was merciless in its criticism of India.  It was brutal.  And, as I recall, Naipaul claimed that the country of India as we know it will forever behave wounded because of one reason: Hinduism and all the related hierarchical relationships and structures.

It was also clear that he had a special place for India, the land from which his people had moved to the Caribbean.  But, that special place did not mean that he overlooked anything, nor did he sugarcoat the millions of things that he critiqued.

Later, when my brother was working in Mauritius, I read The Overcrowded Barracoon.  I wrote to my brother that perhaps he, too, would be interested to read it.  I never heard from him about the book, and I assumed he either did not or he didn't care to.

Now, 35 years after first leaving the old country, I am only slightly older than the age Naipaul was when The Enigma of Arrival was published.  There are so many ways I am able to relate to his experiences, and I am glad that he has the facility with words to express them in ways that I would never be able to.

Naipaul writes about visiting Trinidad after being away for a few years in the UK.  True to his style, Naipaul does not shy away from frank and harsh observations about the island and its people, even as he romanticizes about the island and its people.

I read the following paragraph.  And then I re-read it to make sure that I understood him:

"India" in place of the "island" sums up my feelings about the old country.  It does not take long before I feel the restlessness and the anxiety to move on.  To move back home.

The book, which is an autobiography, fiction, and poetry all combined together seamlessly, is bleak.  Very bleak.  There is plenty of grief.  Very little kindness.  And no love.  I suppose that's what Naipaul wanted to convey in his contemplation on how we view ourselves, perhaps even fool ourselves, in order to fit into a world that almost always is not to our exact preference. 

Our arrival on this planet, the lands we move to and the lives that we lead, are all enigmas worth understanding.