A SEARCH FOR HOME

Karnali Blues by Buddhisagar. Translated by M. Hutt, Penguin India (2022), New Delhi, pp422.

Karnali Blues is a coming-of age novel, originally written in Nepali by Buddhisagar. Partly inspired by the author’s own life, it tells the story of Brisha Bahadur, a young boy growing up in rural Nepal. Narrated from his perspective, the book traces Brisha’s journey through childhood and adolescence, chronicling both joyous and challenging moments as his family navigates the hardships of life in the Karnali region. At the heart of the novel lies a tender portrayal of the genuine love and bond between a father and son. Unlike many narratives that focus on a parent’s affection for their child, Karnali Blues shifts the focus, focusing on the unwavering care and quiet devotion that Brisha receives from his father. The father’s consistent presence and sacrifices offer a quiet strength throughout the narrative. This dynamic is reminiscent of Douglas Stuart’s Shuggie Bain, where young Shuggie is forced to grow up too quickly to care for his struggling alcoholic mother. In contrast, Brisha is the recipient of care. His father bears the weight of provision, shielding his son as much as possible. Eventually, Brisha, leaves rural Nepal to pursue higher education in Kathmandu, a turning point that marks his transition into adulthood.

The novel, deeply rooted in Nepali culture, emphatically captures the milieu and idiosyncrasies of the society. A striking example is the emotional complexity around  Brisha’s sister who elopes, only to return and mend her relationship with her parents. This episode is portrayed with nuance and sensitivity. The narrative also touches on the academic pressures children face and how societal expectations around success can push young people towards drastic decisions-one of Brisha’s friends joins the Maoists, shaped by such stress. There are also moments that reflect the everyday cruelty of society, such as mocking people for their physical features, all of which are presented with a quiet, reflective tone that avoids sensationalism. As you turn the pages, you’re transported back to a place of childhood innocence-vulnerable yet quietly resilient.

Migration is a recurring pattern throughout the novel. Brisha’s family is constantly on the move, chasing the hope of better economic conditions. His father begins with a small medical clinic, but with the opening of new transportation routes and the changing landscape, the family is repeatedly uprooted-from Matera to Katasé, and finally to Kalikot. Eventually, Brisha himself leaves for Kathmandu, leaving his aging parents behind. Migration here is not simply geographic, it’s existential. The family never quite finds stability, always chasing the promise of a better life, only to be thwarted by factors beyond their control. A sense of fatalism hangs over the narrative. Yet within that uncertainty, small, meaningful moments shine: gestures of love, quiet perseverance and the shared strength of a family doing its best.

One of the most distinctive features of Karnali Blues is its faithful preservation of Nepali onomatopoeia, the sounds of everyday life written as it is heard. These sounds are not translated but retained in their original form, creating a visceral connection to the language and landscape. Birds flying in the open air go bhurrrra (pg 1). A radio crackles as the father tunes it-ghyaar ghyaar (pg 34). An unfriendly neighbour spits in the yard-thu thu (pg 46). Lightning strikes with a chadadada dhyangg, awakening a boy from sleep (pg 220). The noise of a TV when the interference and signal get lost goes jhirrrra jhirrrra (pg 236). The final cough of a dying man in a hospital echoes ahung, ahung, ahung (pg 291). The sewing machine makes its rhythmic khatkhatkhat (pg 352). The sounds ground the story in its Nepali setting, and give it an immersive texture that is hard to replicate in translation.

Though the book is rooted in the Karnali region, its emotional core revolves around the search for home. Brisha’s memories are marked by accidentally starting a fire and leaking roofs during the monsoon rains in Matera, cold winters in Kalikot, and the anxiety of change in Katasé. Yet, a true sense of home always feels out of reach. Perhaps this distance is linked to the instability of his father’s livelihood-the medical shop, which prospers, declines and eventually collapses. Through Brisha’s eyes, we witness the economic precariousness many Nepali children grow up with. The novel captures the emotional and physical toll of poverty on childhood, emphasising both the risks children face and their ability to endure. It stands as a poignant reflection on the socio-economic challenges that shape rural life in Nepal.

Michael Hutt’s scrupulous reading of the original and excellent translation make this book unmissable. Hutt’s lucid translation remains faithful to the original while maintaining an ease that appeals to both younger and mature readers. The translation maintains the rhythm and simplicity of the original, making it a pleasure to read even for younger readers. Having read Nepali literature through high school, I found Karnali Blues refreshing. Unlike the heavily Sanskritized novels that were part of our curriculum, where characters often spoke in stiff, formal tones, this novel embraces the everyday speech of real people. Its accessibility makes the characters come alive as warm, sincere, and unmistakably relatable.

The novel unfolds in a linear narrative structure, following Brisha’s life from childhood to early adulthood, which allows the reader to grow alongside him and witness his emotional development in real time. Set against the backdrop of a remote region, Karnali Blues follows the ups and downs of a single family, yet it gestures toward something much larger. The novel reflects on the broader human condition: we may not choose the structures of the social and cultural lives we live within, but we do shape our lives through the choices we make within them. The novel captures the rawness of life as we find it-the messiness, the tenderness, the pain and the persistent flicker of hope. Karnali Blues is not just a story of a boy or a region, it is a meditation on love, loss, and the quiet courage it takes to keep moving when nothing stays the same.