There is much to recommend Yatra: An unfinished novel by Harikrishna Deka, translated from Assamese by Navamalati Neog Chakraborty. The book is a thinking man’s treatise on the life, way of life and situation of man as a human being compared to another, culturally distant, different in innumerable ways. Is there something profoundly human that transcends culture, belief and indoctrination? How are connections made in a world of essentially unconnected individuals? How do we assimilate tribals, the radical left, the government apparatus, idealism and realities on the ground in the confusing mix that is democratic India?

Much of the book is musings and abstract theories. Some of it is wordplay on themes that crop up in this rudimentary plot. In its dullness and prolixity, the writing style and the way divisions are portrayed seem dated. And yes, there are a few characters who tell their stories to further the freewheeling writing style about rifts, exploitation and the common Indian taking on the government machinery. Some of it is unintentionally amusing, considering that the author was DGP in real life and was firmly on the side of the governments, failings and all.

At the center of this web of disjointed thoughts and observations is the main character, a teacher and writer. This writer is sent a letter from another writer/traveler who tells the story of an undiscovered tribe deep in the mountain jungle.

“They were such a backward race, so different from mine. They belong to the Stone Age in their existence… They have put an end to any urge to advance. That was my conclusion as I watched them day after day… Their life would then be unbearable, and the ruinous aspect I saw before my eyes would surely be, together with all the other desolate aspects, the final aggravation that would leave them on the shores of starvation and oppression. Their existence could be completely extinguished.”

And yes, the traveler is provided with a woman as a consolation, in the hackneyed old cliche of sexual surrender to the outsider.

These letters make up a large part of this work. Despite these us-versus-them views towards the tribal peoples, the traveler has his heart in the right place. He wants to save the population from destruction by the mining giants.

A major character in the story is Mahendra, an idealistic former student who now works for the underprivileged. In a way, he is the maker and conscience of this sparse cast. The author meets him quite by chance when he encounters a roadblock by protesters on his way to a book event in Lakhimpur. This form of activism lands Mahendra in jail. Through a brief interaction, our author learns that the other author has obtained his contact details through the mediation of the former. Now he is keen to meet his correspondent.

Circumstances push Satarupa to choose journalism. She meets a local man who reminds her of a character from her childhood and for this reason she names him Jaggu. To her horror, she learns that Jaggu’s daughter Lacchmi was raped by the son of local ruler and politician Mahajan. While the girl is determined to fight him in court, her father would rather accept the financial compensation as it could change her life. When Jaggu suffers a severe asthma attack, he is presumed dead because the poor have no access to medical help. But Jaggu is not his real name and no one cares what it really is.

Choosing an author as the protagonist and continuing the narrative through correspondence between two authors enriches the discourse, because authors belong both nowhere and everywhere, and we learn to see the world through their works. With their stunted morals, they are just as vulnerable as the poorest in our society whose stories they want to tell. Perhaps this is all, as the title suggests, an unfinished journey.