Conversations about how difficult it is to write a satire may likely centre on the fine line between sharp wit and didacticism. Sarojesh Mukherjee’s “The Ascent: An Occasional Diary” prods the academic who knows this all too well, having delved (almost with critical precision) into texts like Rape of the Lock and Gulliver’s Travels. Mukherjee’s acclaimed previous work, The Life and Times of David Hare, is a serious historical text. Read alongside The Ascent, it displays Mukherjee’s writerly about-face, prompting the reader to wonder how he straddles these two seemingly non-overlapping worlds—of sophisticated academic seriousness and sharp-witted humour.

The book cover immediately draws the reader in. It shows two men ascending a flight of stairs that blends into a haze. They can be seen gesticulating in imperious abandon, followed by a gun-toting, sunglasses-flaunting gentleman at their heels, watching over them while looking his formidable best. This richly symbolic image offers a perfect prelude to the roller coaster ride the reader is poised to embark on.

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Politics and satire have long-standing relationships. “The Ascent” brilliantly reinvokes this relationship with a generous dose of humour, nonchalance, brilliant wordplay, and delicious use of the contemporary that seamlessly reaches out to the universal. The plot could have straightaway enhanced the plausibility of a Bollywood rags-to-riches political comic romance. Mukherjee’s conscientiously nuanced approach brings in the right mix of all these and much more.

One revels in awe at Mukherjee’s ability to map out a broad trajectory of the personal and the political as the personal seamlessly morphs into the political. Satires generally wear their politics almost unabashedly on their sleeves; “The Ascent” too displays a self-assured self-reflexiveness. More so for the intimacy forged between the reader and the writer through journaled diary entries. One is driven to fits of laughter, certainly not bereft of self-scrutiny, as the protagonist, the narrator, a real estate developer, unwittingly gets mired in the world of dirty deeds and shady schemes. In its (un)savoury details, the developer-politician nexus is captured with a delightful insouciance that is riotously funny, ebullient, and thought-provoking. Mukherjee is at his savage best, for instance, in the following interaction that the protagonist has with his prospective client, where he is taking a dig at medicos who thrive on their patient’s vulnerability:

“As I asked when his family members would all be available to sign some blueprints, he hurled a volley: he apparently had grounds to believe that his flu was not of the garden-variety kind….rather he had strong reasons to suspect…that it was a rare Chinese virus which was going around undetected by his clueless doctors that existed solely to give him antibiotics that got stronger at every prescription…(41)

Taking the readers on a joyride through the lanes and bylanes of the city of joy, Mukherjee deftly has his fingers on the city’s pulse. Details ranging from the organisation of Durga Puja to the evacuation of tenants, marriage and romance, and deaths caused by adulterated liquor outline the bittersweet components of Kolkata’s bustling dynamics.

There is nothing that escapes the writer’s eye: the garrulous, unfriendly neighbouring lady who can be any real estate honcho’s nightmare, murder, councillors and ministers, the permission of building owners, the party, the politics and the self-obsessed politicians, rally fever, and the performances around it, all of which are helmed by the rise (and the rise) of a nobody into a highly important somebody.

Mukherjee’s charming use of hyphenated words is one of the many seemingly innocuous traits that turn out to be subtly strategic. Rambunctiously sprinkled to accentuate the comedic register, they stand out for their innovativeness, their imaginative precision and their enchanting, incisive immediacy. Some of the hyphenated words outlast the reading experience, for instance, sympathy-laced saliva, wand-wave people, shrill, para-piercing voice, and look-the-other-way Foolice.

‘Foolice’, an ingenious portmanteau for Police and foolish, is one of the many delightfully clever devices deployed by Mukherjee.

Our protagonist encounters and eventually navigates the opportunities and challenges thrown at him, armed as he is with his quirky insights. His initial inhibitions, at times overtly articulated and at others contemplatively mulled over, come across as compelling internal monologues.

What one comes across is a remarkable display of comedic caricature. A finger that points at oneself as it outlines others. With his tongue in his cheek and his deeply probing gaze, Mukherjee unfurls the dark underbelly of the real estate business. He wields his magical wand, effortlessly hilarious, to unleash havoc on his unsuspecting readers as he disarms them to the extent they hardly realise that they are the ones being held under scrutiny.

Mukherjee brings in references from a vast temporal spectrum ranging from Machiavelli’s “The Prince” to The Dunkirk evacuation in a mock-serious manner, adding historical and political density to the first-person perspective. Moments of self-reflection, peppered with vulnerability abound, which further adds an authentically insightful framework to the robust transitions the narrator experiences in a matter of months. The briskly paced narrative bustles with a boisterous energy;  lucid, captivating and infectiously conversational.

The episodic nature of diary entries allows for quick comedic setups and punchlines. It reminds us of The Diary of a Nobody (1892) by George and Weedon Grossmith. The protagonist, Charles Pooter, is a middle-class clerk with modest ambitions and an inflated sense of his own importance. Through his diary entries, Pooter documents the minutiae of his daily life, including trivial domestic concerns, social faux pas, and his often comically exaggerated indignation at perceived slights. The humour arises from the contrast between Pooter’s self-importance and the banality of his life.

Comedy humanises complex issues and invites reflection through relatability and levity. Satire is a literary device that uses wit, irony, exaggeration, and ridicule to criticise political and social issues. It is inherently tied to politics, as it seeks to expose flaws in governance, societal norms, and human behaviour. Writers use satire to challenge authority, question societal values, and inspire change, all while entertaining the audience.

“The Ascent” is a gripping read, a deserving addition to the rich legacy of satire readers have enjoyed over the years. It is thought-provoking, funny, serious, exuberant, and restrained all at once. Interestingly, it discusses power and power dynamics without taking itself too seriously.

The reviewer is assistant professor of English, Diamond Harbour Women’s University 

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The Ascent: An Occasional Diary

By Sarojesh Mukherjee

Virasat Art Publication, 2024

113 pages, Rs 300/-