Book Review: Rage of Marine Titans by Saurabh Pant

 

RAGE OF MARINE TITANS

The novella, 'Rage of Marine Titans' is set in the backdrop of the Russian Ukraine conflict of 2022, as the Preface itself suggests. We have witnessed, in some way or the other, the horrendous atrocities committed by mankind. One such instance is the power struggle of the Russian-Ukraine conflict that reached the pinnacle of a boiling point, disrupting order and making its way to gigantic chaos. Subsequently, the sequential order is overthrown by the dominant authority furthered not only by Russia's invasion but it is bolstered to a great extent by pro-Russian forces in Ukraine. 

The author, Saurabh Pant in 'Rage of Marine Titans' talks about the illusion of the glory of war. It reminds me of Wilfred Owen, a war poet who decidedly debunked the whole concept of war. The author presents vivid descriptions of the setting- the quietness, the numbness, the oxymoronic "silent whispers" is enveloped in an air of trepidation, waiting for something to happen- the eventual and inevitable doom that is about to dawn upon us. The stark contrast is presented, when he writes, "that road which once used to be home to happy faces, laughing, chanting or even drunk if good news became great, but now it seems to be all empty and lost in memories"--- the essence of which is contained till the end of story. The very attempt to measure the fleeting happiness is futile, for the "snoring giant" would wake up and invoke the darkness with it. 

The description of the cruelties of war runs in parallel with the storyline that begins with a guard gunning a man down, thinking him to be Mersnev's son and secret agent. The irony creeps in, as the pronouncement of the inhumanities of war is presented through the portrayal of this guard who goes on to laugh about it, and highlights what war is, that which the story's thematic perspective leads us to: "...this is war, either live or die". The novella makes us travel through the twilight sorrow, darkened by the perception of war and the conception of it. And in between the perception and conception falls a huge shadow where families are compelled to be "crushed beneath its giant toes" and the war-mongers are nothing but pugnacious creatures, glorying in their sadistic puppet-games, and the puppets are those people who have become lifeless, hungry children who are now robbed of their childhood joys. They are waiting for something that never comes, waiting for their "silence whispers" to be reciprocated but their Godot is nothing but Blake's Urizen who would rather drink the sacrificial blood from the infernal chalices.