Reading ‘Radha: Wrath of the Maeju’ is akin to taking a lesson on the history of Newa culture, all the while being immersed in fantastical elements seamlessly woven into this mythological fiction. ‘Radha’ echoes the essence of the fantasy novels that defined my childhood—adventurous, imaginative, humorous, and, most importantly, incredibly enjoyable. However, it distinguishes itself by placing Newa culture and myths at the story’s core.

The protagonist, Radha, follows the typical main character pattern found in many fantasy novels but with a unique twist. As a former Kumari, she is poised to transition to the next phase of her life, seeking a more ordinary existence. Yet, in true fantasy fashion, you know that’s not going to happen.

Rishi Amatya’s deep appreciation for the Patan Heritage infuses his words with a potency that enhances his world-building. A significant portion of ‘Radha’ revolves around Amatya’s exploration of Mangal Bazaar, with its nooks and crevices steeped in the festivities of Newa culture—integral to the novel’s magical themes. As Radha, Dhiraj, Pradeep and Amogh navigate the blurred lines between myths and realities, gods and evils, Amatya’s simple prose constructs a vibrant world of tantra, dyayahs, and siddhis, crafting a detailed universe of the otherworldly without leaving readers in limbo.

Radha is eager to embrace a normal life after her time as the Kumari of Patan. Joined by her uncle, Pradip, and brother, Dhiraj, she looks forward to exploring Patan without the weight of goddess responsibilities. However, an earthquake disrupts Patan, shattering her hopes for normalcy. Now, mythical beings roam free, the boundaries between worlds are disintegrating and a tantra practitioner seeks immortality through unconventional means.

Radha’s story is straightforward, and the familiarity with tales of magical deities is evident in its predictability. Yet, what distinguishes a good writer is the ability to infuse excitement into a story following a common trajectory, and Amatya’s writing understands this well. He achieves this by gradually revealing fragments of the larger picture—there appears to be an ominous presence on the loose, ‘Maeju’, but who is she? One of the main characters, Pradip, seems to have more knowledge than he discloses—what’s that all about? Equally significant is the integration of Newa myths and stories, posing questions such as, “What role does the Kumari play in maintaining the world's balance?”

Mythological fiction and fantasy are intriguing genres. My reading journey commenced with the Percy Jackson series—an exploration of Greek mythologies featuring gods, demigods, mythical creatures and the underworld. Over the years, fantastic literature has gained continual popularity, with numerous authors placing local folklores and mythologies at the heart of their novels. Examples include ‘Aru Shah and the End of Time’, a series entwining a young girl with the Pandavas of the Mahabharata; ‘Gods of Jade and Shadow’, a tale immersed in Mayan myths and folklore; and ‘The Wrath and the Dawn’, a romantic retelling of one thousand and one nights. Many of these books have become bestsellers—‘Aru Shah’ earned widespread acclaim and has been optioned for a TV adaptation, while ‘The Wrath and the Dawn’ was a New York Times bestseller and Amazon’s best book of 2015.

However, ‘Radha’ is not without its flaws. Issues with characterisation and perspectives arise, with many characters lacking distinct voices. Without the writer’s guidance, it would be challenging to distinguish between Radha, a fourteen-year-old, and Amogh, in his late 20s, as Amogh appears as clueless and childlike as the younger characters.

At times, the book’s humorous tone adds a light touch to the story (which is, indeed, quite light overall). It’s amusing when the book doesn’t take itself too seriously, particularly with the recurring joke of Kawa and Khya scaring the characters, followed by the exclamation ‘Yamma’, injecting lively comic moments into the narrative. However, there are instances when it doesn’t quite work, especially with the dialogues written for ‘Maeju’. She is portrayed as a one-dimensional, good-for-nothing character and her jovial threats to kill off the main characters come across as more awkward than funny.

Yet, there’s something undeniably comforting about reading the book—perhaps it’s the cheerful innocence of the characters Radha and Dhiraj, both children trying to navigate the danger they face. Dhiraj’s singular focus on dancing during the Karthik Pyakha is heartwarming and mirrors the carefree nature of children who are unburdened by the complexities of the world. I appreciate that ‘Radha’ doesn’t take on a darker tone because there’s a certain fulfilment in reading about children simply being children—they are motivated by their happiness and love, as is the case in ‘Radha’.

Radha is the kind of book I wish I had encountered during my younger years, amid the numerous Greek, Roman, and Hindu retellings I explored. Maybe then, I would have delved into my own heritage and culture, just as I did with Greek mythologies. Nepali literature is expanding its horizons, and with English-language Nepali writers, passionate about their cultural history, such as Amatya, it contributes positively to Nepali literature on a global scale.

Radha: Wrath of the Maeju

Author: Rishi Amatya

Year: 2023

Publisher: Safu Publications