The Hundred Names of Darkness

By John Cheeran
The most celebrated cats in India live in Delhi. Don’t mistake, they are not the black cats who guard India’s political elite. The days of black cats are any way numbered since Aam Aadmi Party has formed the government in Delhi and its leader Arvind Kejriwal has promised to end the VIP culture. If the VIP culture ends, the black cats have to look for someplace else.
Or they can send an SMS through their whiskers to the most celebrated cats, the Nizamuddin cats, seeking support. They are the ones with more than nine lives and colourful tails.
In a wonderful sequel to The Wildings, Nilanjana Roy writes about the upheaval in the lives of Nizamuddin cats, who are forced to abandon their alleys as the big feet encroach upon their space. The Hundred Names of Darkness (Published by Aleph, 313 pages, Rs 495) is much more than about the cat’s whiskers. It’s about us, the big feet.
A struggle for survival is always a gripping read, even if it is not exactly a dogfight. The big feet tend to enjoy Dickensian drama. The painful retreat of Mara, the sender of Nizamuddin, and her friends from the alleys of Nizamuddin to ‘greener’ pastures surely brings a pause to the steps of the big feet. (For now, Roy has not found a cat who wants to read Shakespeare. They are still interested in fish and chips and occasional bandicoot.)  
Roy’s success lies in convincing the big feet that the lives of Mara, Southpaw, Hulo and Beraal are not different from theirs. As much as the big feet worry about parenting, and issues such as Section 377, cats and cheels too have their own dilemmas. The struggle of Hatch the cheel to live up to his father’s expectation should interest any of the big feet. Hatch, whom his father Tooth calls a freak, makes this telling comment – “Just because we have done it for generations doesn’t mean we have to keep doing it.”  That is some food for thought for the big feet. And much more important than conquering fear -- fear of the unknown—is the need to remember who you are, cautions Roy.      
Much of the charm of The Hundred Names of Darkness is in Roy’s brilliance in inversing the big feet’s world. It amuses you no end while coming face to face with a Delhi dog named Doginder and a peacock aptly called Thomas Mor. When Roy writes “a laughing crocodile of schoolboys” and “the ants maintained a dignified silence” you keep reading. The writing is on the wall, and it is really cool.  Sample this: “The tomcat stretched out his whiskers, wanting to understand, unable to make head or tail of what they were saying; their talk was as meaningless as water rushing from an open tap over the cobbled stones of the alleys inside Nizamuddin.”
And make no mistake. This is not a book for your kids. This is just for you. Enjoy.