Brown Pundits

I am cross-posting an essay I wrote about my favorite novel: A Suitable Boy.  This essay was originally published in 2012 

There are some works of literature that are like comfort food–ready for one to dip into whenever one is in need of a pick-me-up. For me, Vikram Seth’s 1993 magnum opus, A Suitable Boy, is one such work.  The characters–ranging from the anxious and melodramatic Mrs. Rupa Mehra to the crazy Chatterjee family to the beautiful Muslim courtesan Saaeda Bai Firozabadi– are like old friends whom one has missed after a long absence.  Every time I read the novel (and I have read it several times) I find new things to delight and ponder.

The novel begins with what in my opinion is one of the best openings in modern literature, one that immediately alludes to Jane Austen. Just as Pride and Prejudice  begins with the narrator stating “It is a truth universally acknowledged ,that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”,  A Suitable Boy opens with the sentence:  ” ‘You too will marry a boy I choose,’ said Mrs. Rupa Mehra firmly to her younger daughter.” With this sentence, Seth immediately lets the reader know what the book will be about: Mrs. Rupa Mehra’s search to find a suitable match for her daughter Lata. The novel opens at the wedding of Lata’s elder sister Savita. It will conclude with another wedding, that of Lata herself.

Though the plot ostensibly  revolves around getting Lata married off, the novel is really a portrait of 1950s India, similar to the “condition of England” novels of the mid- 19th century. These novels (such as Charles Dickens’ Bleak House) contain, apart from their fictional plots, a debate or discourse about the current state of the nation.  Just as Bleak House draws attention to the problems of the London slums and the need for reform of the Chancery courts, A Suitable Boy includes plot lines devoted to issues of land reform and religious communalism. Seth also includes several other aspects of Indian culture in the novel, such as the tradition of courtesans, Urdu poetry, and Hindustani Classical Music.

All these issues are addressed through the four families who make up the cast of characters, all of whom are related to each other through marriage or friendship. The novel opens at the wedding of Savita Mehra with Pran Kapoor, an English professor who is the son of Mahesh Kapoor, a politician in the Indian National Congress, and the Minister of Revenue in the (fictional) North Indian state of Purva Pradesh. One of Mahesh Kapoor’s most important legislative goals is the passing of the Zamindari Abolition Act, which will result in the dissolution of the large estates of the landed aristocracy known as zamindars. This act will have negative consequences for Kapoor’s friend, The Nawab Sahib of Baitar, who is a member of this hereditary class.  Similarly, Seth brings in a description of the life of a courtesan by creating a plot line involving a doomed romance between Mahesh Kapoor’s younger son, Maan, and Saeeda Bai Firozabadi.  The issue of religious communalism is brought into the novel by focusing on a conflict over a mosque which was supposedly built over a temple (clearly inspired from the Babri Mosque issue in Ayodhya). There are also sections describing rioting between Hindus and Muslims that occurs when a Muharram procession happens to cross a performance of the Ramlila. Several critics have argued that Seth uses these incidents to make a plea for secularism and against religious fanaticism. For example, Seth includes a scene set in the Alamgiri Mosque after Friday Prayer. For the past few months, a Shiva Temple has begun to be constructed next to the mosque, much to the dismay of the local Muslim community. After a particularly fiery sermon by the local Imam, a riot takes place. The narrator describes the scene as follows:

No one knew how the men who were gathering in the narrow alleys of the Muslim neighborhood that lay on one side of Chowk became a mob. One moment they were walking individually or in small groups through the alleys towards the mosque for evening prayer, then they had coalesced into larger clusters, excitedly discussing the ominous signals they had heard. After the midday sermon most were in no mood to listen to any voice of moderation. A couple of the more eager members of the Alamgiri Masjid Hifazaat Committee made a few crowd-rousing remarks, a few local hotheads and toughs stirred themselves and those around them into a state of rage, the crowd increased in size as the alleys joined into larger alleys, its density and speed and sense of indistinct determination increased, and it was no longer a collection but a thing-wounded and enraged, and wanting nothing less than to wound and enrage. There were cries of ‘Allah-u-Akbar’ which could be heard all the way to the police station. A few of those who joined the crowd had sticks in their hands. One or two even had knives. Now it was not the mosque they were headed for but the partly constructed temple just next to it. It was from here that the blasphemy had originated, it was this that must be destroyed.  (Seth 251)

This scene ends with the police shooting at the mob, resulting in several deaths and injuries. A similar incident occurs later in the novel, a stampede at the “Pul Mela” on the banks of the Ganges (based on the Kumbh Mela celebrated in Allahabad every six years). The narrator writes:

Within fifteen minutes more than a thousand people were dead…. It was still not clear what had happened.

Dipankar had been among the spectators on the other side of the main route. He watched with horror the carnage that was taking place less than fifty feet away but–with the nagas between him and the ramp–there was nothing he could do. Anyway, there was nothing he could have done except get killed or injured. He did not recognize anyone on the ramp, so tightly packed was the crowd. It was a hellish scene, like humanity gone mad, each element indistinguishable from the other, all bent on a kind of collective suicide (796-797).

Through such episodes of communal clashes, Seth makes a plea for secularism, and more generally against passion and for rationality. Continue reading Reflections: Vikram Seth’s ‘A Suitable Boy’- An Epic Portrait of 1950s India