The streets of the ancient Chola empire come alive around you in the very first chapter of Empire, not just through the sights and sounds, but also through conversations, the aroma and texture of the food described, and the bustle of the marketplace.
But the real life of this empire are the strong, outspoken female characters Devi Yesodharan creates. The feisty women fight a system that gives them no real agency. The more vulnerable among them have to carry a knife on their person for self-defence; even royal women are at the mercy of their husbands. Needless to say, it is a thoroughly patriarchal society where influential fathers can order titles and glory on a platter for their sons; where education is almost never within the reach of the poor; where the upper classes stress on propriety and express their disgust for the disadvantaged at one breath; and where homosexual relations are an open secret. Yes, there is homosexuality in the 11th century India of Yesodharan’s imagination.
In spite of the rigid feudal structure or perhaps because of it, rebels thrive. They blithely ignore rules that don’t work for them. For instance, Anantha, the male ‘lead’, loves dogs and keeps them in his home despite their perceived impurity, compromising with his neighbours to have his way. Anantha is a character of sound intentions — he is perpetually in conflict with society because of his idealism. Yesodharan brings in a host of characters — some are there just to add to the atmosphere while some have a greater role to play in furthering the plot. However, the most rounded and convincing character is of the protagonist, Aremis.
Aremis is a female prisoner of war trained to become a soldier. She lashes out at a system which is loath to accept strong women like her. In voicing her anger she brings out the entrenched hypocrisies of a society that boasts of being liberal and cosmopolitan — being the capital of one of the greatest empires of the times — but is actually built on exclusion and inequality. It is difficult not to like Aremis as she wonders why male guards aren’t expected to smile politely like her or rolls her eyes while saying, “Please don’t ask how it’s done among women.”
But Aremis cannot hold up the plot, which begins to lose steam towards the end. Intended to be a tale of palace intrigues and battles, Empire ends up being a story of Aremis and Anantha. A palace mystery that dominates the first half of the book, and is built up carefully chapter by chapter, lies half-forgotten in the second half. It is suddenly resurrected to give way to a game-changing revelation before going into hibernation again.
Yesodharan’s chosen narrative structure could be one of reasons for why that particular mystery peters out. The narration flits between the first-person voices of Aremis and Anantha — one picks up where the other left — to merge towards the end, as these characters’ fates collide. That must have compelled the author to abandon the palace intrigue: you can’t track different conflicts brewing in different locations if you make the characters covering them board the same ship (literally).
The abandoned plotline will probably be addressed in a sequel (many of the conflicts are left unresolved). However, one cannot help but feel disappointed at the long —albeit enjoyable — build-up to what seems like an anti-climax at the end. Even books that are part of a series need to have some conclusion of their own. This one doesn’t even have a cliff-hanger.
The narrative style lets Aremis down too. We do not get to hear her voice in what should have been a pivotal moment of personal reconciliation. Natesan is Aremis’s first love — readers would have liked to know how their reunion went from Aremis’s point of view. But it’s just mentioned in passing, in someone else’s narrative.
Meandering storyline aside, Empire is a well-written page-turner and a potential saga. It has prophecies, battles, planned assassinations, intrigues, and a slight dose of humour. But it still needs a sequel to save it.
Empire, Devi Yesodharan, Juggernaut, ₹599.
