I have had a whale of a time reading Khushwant Singh’s novel The Company of Women. He is without an iota of doubt the enfant terrible of South Asian literature. I cannot for the life of me recall any other South Asian author whose every work possesses the same degree of readability as his. Having served as a diplomat, politician, editor of notable publications and academic, it was in writing that he found his true interest and niche. Consequently, his pen produced no fewer than a hundred books. It is a marvel in itself that he managed to sell every book he wrote.
The novel The Company of Women is divided into three sections: the secret life of Mohan Kumar, the memoirs of Mohan Kumar, and the last days of Mohan Kumar. The first section opens with Mohan Kumar, the central character around whom and whose philandering inclinations the story revolves, as he ruminates over his separation from his wife after twelve years of marriage. His wife Sonu, the daughter of Rai Bahadur Lala Achint Ram who owns sugar mills and “considerable” real estate in Delhi, leaves him on account of the bitter experience of marriage and takes along their two children. The day which gives Mohan a free ticket to indulge in debauchery, hedonic activities and to be ruled by his desires suddenly turns into a sombre one. Khushwant writes, “Their squabbles had often irritated him. Now he missed them. The house suddenly had far too many rooms, and the night too many hours. He was weary.”
Following a few days of separation, Mohan enjoys being carefree and divides his time shuttling between home and office. It is just a matter of time and he soon starts yearning for the warmth of companionship. To avoid a second marriage, which comes with a number of terms and conditions, he seeks a live-in companion and places an advertisement in the popular dailies of India, outlining the dividends the prospective companion will receive. In the advertisement, Mohan boasts about himself and writes, “Forty-year-old product of an Ivy League College (USA).” Aware that Sonu reads the matrimonial sections of the newspapers, he proceeds with the idea and naturally receives the first response from her in her recognisable handwriting. All that she writes is “Bastard,” and it is enough to dampen his zeal by a few degrees, though not altogether. Before he receives other letters in response to the advertisement, he does not spare his house’s jamadarni, Dhanno, and spends weeks indulging in a private liaison with her. He then receives a plethora of letters, one of which is from a professor of English in Rewari. She is Saroojni Bhardwaj and, just like Mohan, is spouseless and seeking a similar companionship. She comes over to Mohan’s house, Ranjit Villa, named after his son, and what follows can easily be anticipated.
Khushwant Singh is without an iota of doubt the enfant terrible of South Asian literature. I cannot for the life of me recall any other South Asian author whose every work possesses the same degree of readability
The second section is comprised of the memoirs of Mohan Kumar. It sets out to describe how Mohan moves from Delhi to the US to study at Princeton University and how he loses his innocence and crosses the threshold into manhood. It is through Jessica Browne that he comes to know the true meaning of pleasure, but it does not last long. The second woman to enter his life is Yasmeen, whom he meets while attending comparative religion classes at the Department of Religion and Philosophy at Princeton. They spend much of their time discussing their cultures and the religious differences that are evident and widely prevalent. He expresses his sentiments thus: “But I thought of her often. Every time I met a Muslim, man or woman, she came back to my mind. Every time anyone brought up the subject of Indo-Pak relations or the continuing tension over Kashmir, I was reminded of Yasmeen Wanchoo.”
After spending six years in the US, Mohan returns to India to spend the rest of his life with his Pitaji (father), build himself a good career, and get married. He finishes his degree with Summa Cum Laude and looks forward to a prosperous life. His father smothers him with affection and wishes to see him settled in life. Hence, he finds Mohan a rishta (marriage proposal) with Sonu and does all that is required to get them married. With the passage of time, Mohan becomes a successful businessman and buys a separate mansion for himself and his family.
Over the course of their marriage, Mohan and Sonu do not live a happy life. Even the birth of children does not ignite affection between them. Of the two children, Mohan’s Pitaji is devoted to his son’s son, Ranjit, and this is greatly disliked by Sonu. Soon, Mohan’s father begins to feel that he is no longer desired in the house and opts to live in the Haridwar ashram. It is in the ashram that he breathes his last, leaving Mohan shattered and overwhelmed with grief. Encapsulating Mohan’s feelings, Khushwant writes, “As the sun was setting we drove into the ashram. I was conducted to my father's room. In the centre of the charpoy on which he had slept a few days earlier was a brass pot containing his ashes It had garlands of marigold flowers twined round it. I took it in my arms and again broke down. I heard myself wailing: Hai pitaji! Where have you gone without me? You did not even give me the chance to be with you when the end came!" For days, he remains silent and blames Sonu for his father’s decision to leave their home. Nothing helps to subside the bitterness, and they eventually part ways.
The other women who come into Mohan’s life are Mary Joseph, the nurse of his son Ranjit; Molly Gomes, a physiotherapist from Goa and Susanthika Goonatillike, a diplomat in the Sri Lankan High Commission. Their stay with him spans from weeks to months, ending in promises to write to each other often.
The last section deals with the life-threatening ailment that Mohan suffers from. The last woman to remain in contact with him is a prostitute he meets in Mumbai during a business-related trip. Most apparently, he contracts AIDS from that woman and begins to experience the symptoms after six months. Dr Malhotra, a reputed physician in Delhi, treats Mohan and helps him lead a comparatively healthy life for two years. Eventually, to avoid the shame of having died of AIDS, Mohan takes his own life.
For those who have not exposed themselves to any such piece of literature before, the ribald and risqué nature of the events portrayed in the novel might make them feel a tad uncomfortable. The protagonist’s overindulgence in intimate activities may take some readers by surprise, but Khushwant Singh’s rhythmic language carries the narrative forward with elegance and is bound to keep readers thoroughly engaged. Khushwant Singh is indeed a master weaver of words and emotions, and his works continue to hold sway over readers long after he is gone.