Book
Review: "Karma Cola" by Gita Mehta
 (Penguin
- 193 pages)
Reviewer - Luke Brown
Sometimes a book is published
that is virtually unreviewable. Not because it is a mess, but rather
because one can not do it justice. Published in 1979 and still being
reprinted, Karma Cola is one such work. Recommended to me by someone
who had just left India, the subject of the book, I was handed a
passage to read. It detailed the story of an English aristocrat
who had heard about a guru in the mountains who was reported to
be able to turn urine into scented rose water. And so this Englishman
went out to find the guru and sampled his wares, which, it turned
out, smelt and tasted remarkably like urine.
Although the book is
widely known for its collection of stories of western disciples
seeking out mystical gurus and their tailor-made truths, it is its
study of how India discovered that they were quite hip after all
(in the eyes of some westerners) while they were turning to western
culture, makes it a must read. Although the times have changed since
it first came out, its biting and well-observed satire mixed with
Gita Mehta's electric writing style (on occasions reminding me of
Tom Wolfe) stand out. But I've said too much. Here is an early passage
from this most funny and insightful work that will give a taste
of where she is coming from and where her book is going:
"American mass-marketing
had penetrated so fast to the Indian interior that its experts were
invited by our government to popularize contraceptives with the
same panache. While population control and pop culture raced hand
in hand through the Indian countryside, we of the cities and the
universities were getting restless, too. But just when the accelerator
seemed within our reach, the unthinkable happened.
The kings of rock and roll abdicated.
To Ravi Shankar and the Maharishi.
As the sitar wiped out
the split-reed sax, and mantras began fouling the crystal clarity
of rock and roll lyrics, millions of wild-eyed Americans turned
their backs on all that amazing equipment and pointed at us screaming,
"You guys! You've got it!"
Well, talk about shabby tricks. We had been such patient wallflowers
and suddenly the dance was over. Nobody wanted to shimmy. They all
wanted to do the rope trick.
The lines were kept open in spite of the political static.
"Excuse me, operator, what did they say? What have we got?"
"Hello, India, my party is saying you have the Big Zero."
Mao had lost out to Maya. The revolution was dead.
So we tagged along with
the Americans one more time. Not because of right thought, right
speech, right action. But because of the rhythm section. Never before
had the Void been pursued with such optimism and such razzle dazzle.
Everyone suspected that whatever America wanted, America got.
Why not Nirvana?"
Reviewer: Luke Brown
Email: editor@polosbastards.com
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