Recently, Guardian published a piece by Julian Barnes, where he has changed the ending of Madame Bovary. Taking off from there, a journalist friend of mine has written in her weekly column that she would like to change the ending of Ramayana, where Sita refuses to undergo the trial by fire and leaves Ram instead.
That got me thinking. If we had the chance, the ending of which work of literature would we change? And why? Eric Segal's Love Story, in which Jenny would conquer her illness and the couple would live happily ever after? But would that be as memorable as it is now? Would Romeo and Juliet be as popular had they lived? Maybe, Juliet would find Romeo too impulsive and leave him after a year. Maybe Romeo would fall for Juliet's attractive cousin who has this thing for balcony romances.
What'll happen if Dr Zhivago left his wife to live with Lara? Humdrum exitence of everyday couples don't make for great literature. Unrequited love does. It arouses the sob-aholic in us, the eternal yearning (and sighing) for things beyond our reach.
After Scarlett O Hara lost Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, Alexandra Ripley tried to repair the injustice (so most of us thought) with Scarlett, the sequel. But while we had fervently prayed that Rhett would forgive Scarlett and return, what a damp squib that prayer turned out to be in writing. Scarlett was wish-fulfillment, but darn it! the book was so disappointing that we almost wished that we didn't wish!
So, friends, what books would you change the endings of? Would you like Robinson Crusoe never to return to civilised society, but build an alternate civilisation on the desert island? Would you prefer Mowgli to realise Shere Khan's plight and actually counsel Baloo and Bagheera on the importance of saving the tiger?
Do write in. This would make one helluva interesting never-ending story!
Of parenthood, angst, and travels
7 comments:
Since we are talking about fictional narratives here, and if we don't rely too much on 'chances and coincidences' to get to the desired ending, an author is pretty much bound by what she starts with in the exposition bit. As in game theory, the initial chapter of such a narrative would provide infinite combinations of future events (think of the possible chess moves at the beginning of a game) and would offer the writer a thousand billion options to choose from. '
But the author has a 'vision' and that's why she 'chooses' a particular end. Here, however, the logic goes slightly awry, especially when we have authors who claim that the 'story' has a life of its own and the characters 'determine' their own future in teh narrative.
Now, where do I come in? Shall I impose 'my' vision on the given narrative to direct it to a different end than the one given by the author? However, I am too busy now to think about it.
Ahem, Mitul has just now discovered that "I am a complete jerk', perhaps an euphemism for a 'spoilsport', and has threatened to delete this post if it doesn't have any concrete suggestion. I am afraid.
Ummm, ummm, hmmm....
How about all the movies in which stupid heroes win only with the help of the scriptwriter? well, I am talking about Ramayan here.Umm, well, a certain Mr. M. M. Dutt has already hogged the credit for this completely original thought I had. But I am one better than him. How about Sita marrying Ravan and happily producing mulatto babies (Sita was Aryan, wasn't she? WAF, White Aryan Female) who perefectly demonstrate Mendell's principles of Phenotype and Genotype (remember the all white rat, all black rat, and two dappled rats—all offsprings of a white and a black mouse?)
What would have King Janak done if his grandkids were named Lavasur and Kushasur? Or imagine Ram moving on and getting married again. Imagine Ram and Sita going to the same restaurant one night with their latest spouses. Imagine Ram/Sita singing , "Mera kuchh saman rakkha hai..." soulfully to indicate the emotional/mnemonic residue in the relationship. Imagine Ram saying," We are good friends still, but there were irreconciliable differences." I magine Ravan, the horny bastard he was, flirting with Ram's new wife. Imagine the discomfort of Hanuman in that gathering, not least because of his Simian appearance. Imagine!
The mind just boggles at the endless possibilities, Dipu! Imagine Kushasura bearing an uncanny resemblance to Hanuman. Imagine Ravan demanding a paternity test. Imagine Sita saying, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!" and walking out.
Truly, Dipu's prowess in digressing is amazing...it throws up endless possibilities! As for me, I would take up the other Indian epic for a change of ending. I would definitely like Yudhistir to go to Hell and maybe one of the others (Arjun?) to make it to heaven. Yudhistir is the most spineless SOB found in literature and he has no right to hog so much of screenspace, let alone be shoved down the audience's throat as the 'real hero'. Arjun went and killed all those people, won Draupadi, played an eunuch and picked up a few wives on the way. He's more of a real hero. Of course, before I decide who goes where, I would like to know the definition of Heaven and Hell. If heaven is a place for goody-two-shoes, maybe Yudhistir deserves it and Arjun is better off 'sinning' in Hell!
I'd never let "The Woman" trump Mr. Holmes.
But Rohan, don't you remember A Scandal in Bohemia for Holmes's defeat at the hands of Irene Adler? I feel Doyle wanted Holmes to be beaten at his own game sometimes: an astute adversary makes for engrossing read. What do you think?
Strangely, the only endings I can think of wanting to change are those of Silsila and Don's terrible suitcase-catching sequence.
Am clueless though why the mind has blanked out in the way it has. Possibly because given my 16-minute, six-days-a-week reading ritual (Shyambazar to Maidan on the tube, Monday to Saturday), I usually forget the beginning of a book by the time I get to its end and, soon after even that is a blur.
I am reading a biography of the Beatles now and even though I am nowhere close to its ending, I know I wouldn't like the part where they split. On the other hand, maybe, because they did go their own ways, the songs still endure. Moreover, just imagine a world without Imagine. So can't say I would like to change that either.
Read a book on the life of Garrincha before that and how I wished he hadn't been wasted by alcohol at 49. But then again, it is such a tragic flaw that makes him such an endearing figure.
I guess unless an ending really jars, which would make it a bad book, a bad play or a bad film, I am okay with whatever the author/director thinks. For that would mean their logic is in sync with mine and that's why I like the book, play, film in the first place.
DHIMAN
Sorry for the delay in commenting, Mitz. But I'd blanked out. Like others on this page, I hardly read these days. And for that, I feel true shame.
But yes, when I read Daddy Long Legs, I was as charmed by the simple, entertaining (and refreshingly politically incorrect) storytelling, as I was disappointed by the end.
I would not let Judy fall in love with her secret benefactor. No, for me, in my teens and now, that twist in the tale did not gel.
And hey, Dhiman, not a word against Don, ok? I’m already sore about remaking classics.
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