Customer Reviews

Chasing the Monsoon: A Modern Pilgrimage Through India

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A wonderfully droll and lively account of a deeply personal adventure to realize a singularly unique obsession. I loved it. Anyone who has ever experienced the collective madness and loopy high spirits that overtakes people who are about to contend with an overwhelming natural event in their lives (ie: approaching blizzard), especially one that isn't likely to kill them or be destroy their lives (ie: hurricane or earthquake), can appreciate this book and the wonderful characters brought so warmly to light.. Is there a people anywhere that isn't obsessed with weather? I think not. Is there any other weather system of so fundemaentally benign an aspect as the monsoon? I think not. Is there one that affects so many people on such a huge scale? I think not. Isn't there room for a great book here? I think so, and this is it. My compliments to Mr. Frater.

_Chasing the Monsoon_ by Alexander Frater was an enjoyable travel book, one that I read in just a few days. The author's intention, as one might guess from the title, was to follow the progress of the summer monsoon through India, beginning in the southernmost tip of the subcontinent, Cape Comorin, and following its progress up the west coast through Trivandrum, Calicut, Goa, and Bombay, then jetting over to Delhi, and then to experience the eastern arm of the monsoon (there are two arms, one in the east of India, one in the west) in Calcutta and in two places near Bangladesh, Shillong and Cherrapunji (there was a map illustrating his route).

Frater began the book discussing his childhood in the New Hebrides, a group of islands in the South Pacific jointly administered at one time by both France and the United Kingdom, how growing up his missionary father helped instill in him a fascination for weather. His father had talked about one of the rainiest spots on Earth, Cherrapunji, India, which was known at the height of the monsoon season in July to get as much as 75 feet of rain, though more often in the 30 to 40 foot range, receiving as much as 40 inches in one day. Though Frater's father never visited Cherrapunji and lost interest in meteorology due to mounting family financial problems and the Second World War, Alexander himself never completely lost interest in the weather.

After relating how he finally decided to follow the monsoon in the summer of 1987 and if possible visit Cherrapunji, he detailed his pilgrimage throughout India. Though Frater did discuss some of the science of the monsoon and in particular the history of its study (noting such famous researchers as H.F. Blandford, who beginning in 1875 became the first of a line of India-based climatologists who studied the monsoon and Sir John Eliot, his successor, often called the "father of monsoon studies"), the book is more a travel than a popular science book, detailing what Frater saw in India and in particular local reactions to the monsoon (or its unfortunate absence in drought-stricken parts of the country).

Throughout most of India, the onset of the monsoon rains, the "burst," was eagerly anticipated, the arrival of life-giving rains and cooler weather celebrated for centuries in art, poetry, and song. Frater visited remarkable pavilions, palaces, gardens, and fountains where the very wealthy had in the past had sought to recreated the cooling rains of the monsoon during times of heat and aridity.

Though many cities and regions have unofficial dates when the monsoon is supposed to begin - for instance around June 5 in Goa - the actual advance of the rains is unpredictable, subject to much discussion and even heated debate on the street, with many people hanging on every word of travelers to areas already experiencing monsoon rains, meteorologists, and even astrologers. I must say I was rather surprised that the monsoon traveled slowly enough through India that Frater for the most part was able to keep ahead of it, as while the first burst over Cape Comorin occurs generally around June 1, it is nearly July 1 before it reaches Delhi (if it reaches it at all; Frater chronicled how the monsoon rains had failed to arrive in recent years). Overall Frater did an excellent job of conveying the tense atmosphere of expectation among those waiting for the rains and the sense of relief and jubilation once they had arrived.

When the rains did arrive there was often great rejoicing with almost unofficial holidays in many parts of the country. Even in businesses that did not close had workers from cashiers and waiters up to expensively dressed businessmen and women running outside to cavort in the rain. Adults and children played in the rains, planned parties celebrating it, and even not unlike Frater himself planned trips to see it (the author wrote of oil-rich wealthy Middle Easterners flying on their private jets to India to witness such vast amounts of rain for themselves).

Additionally, people associated the monsoon with cures for a variety of ailments. The "monsoon cure," which could be anything from specific diets to being massaged in special oils to meditation with the onset of the rains, was big business, particularly in western India.

So important were the rains in providing a relief from the heat, watering crops, filling wells, and regenerating lakes and rivers, that much like with the monsoon cures an entire industry existed to ensure the arrival of the rains, ranging from ceremonial well diving to crackpot inventors to cloud-seeding with aircraft to singing ancient songs called ragas, composed especially to bring on the monsoonal rains.

Not everyone welcomed the monsoon. Frater detailed the great difficulties of officials in Calcutta in handling the floods brought about by the monsoon, and hinted at but didn't go into detail about the massive floods in Bangladesh the rains often brought. Fishermen and sailors often couldn't work in the high seas, cyclones, and driving rain during the height of the monsoon and pilots often had great difficulty flying in monsoon weather. Back when India was a British possession some Englishmen became depressed, alcoholic, or even committed suicide due to the rains.

A portion of the book detailed Frater's attempts to get permission from Delhi to visit Cherrapunji, as it was located in a region subject to anti-immigrant riots and fighting (something he might have gone a little bit more into). As foreign travel and even travel by Indians themselves to that area was tightly controlled, Frater had to navigate the intricate, complex, positively Byzantine corridors of Indian bureaucracy. This theme seems to be a common element of Indian travel writing, a topic addressed also in _An Area of Darkness_ by V.S. Naipaul and _The Search for the Pink-headed Duck_ by Rory Nugent.

Though I would have liked a bit more science and maybe some photos, overall I enjoyed the book.

Few books on India can easily hope to undertake and accomplish the monumental task of depicting this complex society. This book is no exception. By taking the lens of the monsoon -- and the beliefs and practices which surround it in India - this book has adopted a wonderful device to depict a wide swathe of this country. Entertaining and thoughtful, this is certainly one of the more informative travelogues on India.

Frater's style takes just the reader with him and shares the experience, ideas and emotions on a personal level. The concept of chasing water is unique enough but his style of writing is like a personal letter. I could smell the rain before it fell, I felt drenched, could smell the spices, feel crammed in buses, felt scared in the 'plane, was elated at the climax. Alexander Frater conveys images in such an open, frank manner that I believe him. He's like a traveller reporting in letters of experiences, sights and smells. I felt I knew him and wanted to know more of how he thought. This is a writer of such simplicity without any artifice that I want to be more a part of his world through his writings. Definitely a "must read" of travel books!

A very affectionate book, low-key but very vivid. It is of course, like all travel books, ultimately about the author, and in this case about the loss of his father, but he doesn't harp on it too much. He seems to have taken a great delight in all aspects of India, which travellers exhausted by touts and hustlers can only marvel at. A loving book, and a must-read for anyone going to india, monsoon or not.

In writing "Chasing the Monsoon: A Modern Pilgrimage through India" Alexander Frater weaves external observations his personal memories into a cohesive, entertaining account of his myriad experiences following the monsoon up and across the Indian subcontinent. Despite a plethora of details about the science and meteorology, accounts of his attempts to secure the blessings of a cumbersome Indian government's bureaucracy, his social interactions with people at all levels of Indian society, excruciating car trips, and recollections of his and his family's experiences living on islands in the Pacific, the book is neither dry nor dull.

Mr. Prater braids these various story lines into a seamless retelling of his experiences. His attention to detail-whether describing a worn-out hotel, recounting an overheard conversation about the virtues of various types of mangoes, or capturing the sensual experience of being engulfed by the monsoon-is quite remarkable. Though the story is highly personal, Mr. Frater does not impose himself upon the reader in such a manner as to detract from his travelogue. I'm glad he fully documented his experience and further appreciate his tidy way of bringing matters full circle.

The most improbable of all "journeys"..... to chase a monsoon through India. But how lyrical and memorable this trip is. This is a story not just of Frater, but of the people of India he comes in contact with during this voyage, and an explanation of how the monsoon affects each of them. This is one of the VERY few books I have ever read more than once. Another great read about a journey is South Wind by Norman Douglas.

Mr. Alexander Frater has not only written a book about India, the onslaught of the monsoon, and the colourful and hospitable Indian people, but conveys to us the events of a deeply personal journey through an intricate mesh of heartfelt personal relations to the subcontinent itself as well as to his family and friends. 'Chasing the Monsoon'is a modern adventure to the 'wettest' place in the world - Cherrapunji, near Bangladesh - starting from Bombay, proceding south through Goa and Kerala, to finally turn back towards the north, while in the process resorting to various adventurous means of transportation. All through the book the common theme is of course the massive and spectacular rains embracing and rejuvinating the soil, lending new life to the parched landscapes, restarting the yearly cycle of organic life and death. Mr. Frater cleverly and poetically shows us the vital and perennial bond between the Indian psyche and the monsoon itself, and at the same time lets the enourmous downpours refresh and replenish his own inner world, such that the reader witnesses as gradual transformation fuelled by the power of the monsoon itself. It is a greatly insightful book, reminding us of how outside events are mirrored in the soul of man, and will affect us deeply, if we allow them to, and are attentive to the movements of the heart. For all of us with an interest and love for India and its people, it is highly recommended, especially since the monsoon is largely - and regrettably - unexplored by Indian travellers.

One of the true joys of reading is finding a book that involves a person's "offbeat" interests, and how, if s/he does not just dream, but pursues them, and then can render that pursuit into a lively and well-written story, we are all so much the richer for it. Such a book is Mr. Frater's "Chasing the Monsoon," which had numerous unlikely cause and effect relationships, a la, the proverbial butterfly wings beating in China. But how many stories are not that way?

The story starts in the "condominium" of the New Hebrides, in the South Pacific, which was jointly administered by the British and the French prior to the Second World War. It is here that Mr. Frater spends his childhood, clearly a "path less traveled" prior to the arrival of the winds of war. And it is here that his father instills in him an interest in meteorology, and speaks of going to Cherrapunji, in India, which he likens to "one of the Stations of the Cross," as a "pilgrimage." It is this town that holds the world's record for the highest amount of annual rainfall. (and also for a day - 35 inches!)

His father's desires lay dormant in the son, and are finally activated by an event that literally occurs in Kashgar, in China, where the author develops medial problems that lead to a waiting room in London, and conversations with fellow patients about the monsoon. Shortly thereafter, he is on his way to witness one of the grand spectacles of nature, one that make much of India inhabitable. He starts at the very southern tip of India, at the end of May, in the town of Trivandrum, where he reports the anticipation and excitement which accompanies the annual life-giving event. By the 9th of June he is on a plane north, to Bombay, to await the monsoon as it moves north. It is only around the first of July that it finally arrives in New Delhi.

Frater gives a straightforward scientific account of the metrological basis for the monsoon, including the evolution of the historical work completed on it. But it is reportage on India itself, with the monsoon as a backdrop that he truly shines. It is sensitive, witty portrait which depicts the uniqueness of India without condensation or excessive praise. In the background though is the "drama" of acquiring permission to visit Cherrapunji, which was once an acclaimed hill station during the Raj, but now is in a "troubled" tribal area that is usually closed to foreigners, naturally for their "safety." This drama pits Frater against the infamous Indian government bureaucracy. Does he win? A worthy question to be answered by the reader.

Overall, Frater has written a wonderful travel book as he lives out, and fulfills his obsession. Like Ved Mehta's "Portrait of India," it is enough to make you board the next plane, despite the bureaucracy that will await you.

Alex brings out the very essence of the spirit of the monsoons and it's place in India's existence (political, economic and social). His descriptive abilities are very, very good. He is economical in the use of the language, but I assure you that you will be able to smell the spices in the bazars he visits, a very entertaining and easy read. I have learned a lot about my country. This book has inspired me, and one day, I will retrace Frater's journey and chase the monsoons across the land they call India.