Krishna Sudhir captures the imagination of those who require a respite from life with his novel “Prince of Typgar: Nujran and the Monks of Meirar.” In his story, the author fuses together a bildungsroman narrative with elements of magic realism, a vision of the present and the future defined by scientific and technological advancements, and the best and the worst of contemporary political dynamics.
At the center of the novel is the teenaged character of Prince Nujran who from the time of his birth, is portrayed as the apple of his parents’ eyes. Nujran’s father is Rababi, king of Typgar, a kingdom on the fictional planet of Syzegis. Roone, Rababi’s devoted queen, dotes on Nujran throughout his childhood. The love and attention both king and queen shower upon Nujran are legitimate causes for his becoming a benignly “spoiled” adolescent.
In time, Nujran will learn to face the fact that he will have to grow up eventually and confront the hard realities of the outside world, a world which his parents have sheltered him as a child against. Nujran after all, is heir to the throne of Typgar and when he answers his royal calling, he has to be ready to follow in his highly-respected father’s large footsteps.
Despite acknowledging his birthright and all the responsibility that it entails, Nujran struggles to fully put his childhood behind him which he must do in order to optimally embrace adulthood. As Sudhir writes, “it was clear that [Nujran] did have his limitations, having grown up protected behind the palace walls. He was a self-centered prince, used to having his way, and he had never truly been tested in any material sense.”
If only the prince’s socio-political context were simpler than what he initially was cognizant of. Even with a mere glance into “Prince of Typgar,” one can perceive a portrait of a kingdom at a critical juncture in its history. The progressive monarch Rababi is at odds with Hoanan, a vociferous and volatile leader who, intentional or not on the author’s part, is an echo of the large, real-life figure of one Donald Trump.
King and polemicist are opposites in every way. Rababi is a conscientious and level-headed ruler who drives the momentum to sustain Typgar not only as a stable and heterogeneous kingdom domestically, but one with a cosmopolitan and international orientation. Hoanan on the other hand, is a fiery, diametric, even a violent figure. Sudhir depicts him as a “loner,” a hard-talking, anti-immigrant “populist” anxious to debunk Rababi’s policies.
In another possible allusion to the current American president, Hoanan is prone to relying on fake news to gain a political advantage. One of the novel’s characters says that Hoanan “never let facts get in the way of a good story.” King Rababi’s ambitious and temperamental foil is a “master of invective, never hesitating to lash out and disparage the administration.” Hoanan’s ceaseless enmity for the sovereign and consuming desire for power would lead to an attempted putsch.
It is in this dangerous and contentious political climate that Prince Nujran is compelled to interiorize the forms and substance of royal succession for the sake of his country. With his epistemological mentor Amsibh by his side, Nujran successfully navigates the trials and tribulations that Typgar is subjected to and proceeds to fulfill his destiny. For as Sudhir writes, no less than the “universe was crying out to him to map out his mission.”
“Prince of Typgar” seamlessly intertwines several dissimilar spheres as diverse as futurism, political conspiracy, a coming-of-age evolution, affairs of the heart, unforeseen contingencies, the blurring of the line between imagination and reality, and public and personal challenges that are taxing for any young man to face, let alone a prince and a future king. This combination of disparate themes and genres, synthesized with Sudhir’s concise and refined writing style, makes for an enjoyable and yet educational page turner for both young and mature readers alike.
ALLEN GABORRO
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