Midnight's Children (1981) by Salman Rushdie
There are books and then there are Masterpieces, like Midnight’s Children. The thing that attracted me most was the unusual name, which I couldn’t comprehend till I read the novel, Children who were born on Midnight. But the important thing is “Which” particular Midnight.
There comes the answer: “14th August, 1947”, when the “Tryst with Destiny” was delivered.
The thing which I like about the work of Salman Rushdie is the amount of research he does, for his work. There are other writers like Robin Cook, who do such extensive research for their work, but the way Rushdie mixes the Facts with the Fiction, is amazing. Best thing about the book is the way in which Mr. Rushdie has fictionalized these events. The book describes the political/social condition of India, Pakistan and East-Pakistan (Bangladesh) from 1915 till 81. Various events which changed the Destiny of Sub-continent, primarily related to India.
Our hero, Salim Sinai, was born on the stroke of Midnight on 14th August 1947, when Partition of Hindustan into India & Pakistan took place. He shares his birthday with 581 more children, the MCC club, (582 is the no of Members of Parliament in India). Prior to this there is a mention of his Grandfather, Adam Aziz, who was witness to Massacre at Jalianwala bag (1919).
Then there is the story of his parents, how they got married and then the wrath of Riots after the partition and how his father paid the communal parties, (obviously Hindu fanatics) to save his business. Then the story shifts to Bombay and we come to know about “Partition of the state of Bombay” and how Marathis and Gujaratis fought for that forsaken Island.
Meanwhile our hero, Salim faces harsh realities and complexities of his family life (His Father Ahmed and his secretaries plus his obsession with Djins, his Mother Amina and her relations with her ex-husband Nasir, plus his Sister Brass Monkey) and their families (His Grandmother whatitsname Naseem, His no-longer-successful uncle Hanif and His promiscuous wife) plus his neighborhood (All the families of Methwold state).
When Salim was still in Bombay, India-China war of 1961 started (an un-biased version) and then there are stories, Battle of Thag-la-ridge and how Indian government first started the war, and then tried to save their face by launching the 'Ornaments for Armaments' campaign. Then Salim’s Aaya reveals to Ahmed and Amina that Salim is not their child, and she had exchanged him with Williy-Winkie’s child.
So here the story takes a new turn and Salim went to Pakistan and then there he becomes the witness of Military coupe by Gen. Ayub Khan. Few years after this the Indo-Pak war broke out. But our hero is not bothered with all this and he is fighting his own war against feelings of Incest. When the war is over so is Salim’s family. His Mother and Father were killed and his sister left him forever and he wakes up in East-Pakistan (Bangladesh).
Here he becomes witness to the brutalities of Gen Tikka Khan and Yahya Khan and how these Generals arrested Mujib-ur-Rehman, the founder of Bangladesh. After India intervened and Bangladesh became free, on 25th March 1971, with the efforts of Sam Manekshaw. So Salim return to his Mother-land.
In Delhi he got married to Parvati-the-witch, another member of MCC. Here he becomes witness to the Emergency and hence to all the Good/Bad effects of Emergency applied by Indira Gandhi (The Widow) and her labia-lip son Sanjay Gandhi. And finally returns to Bombay and the story ends.
I have tried to mention whatever I could recall, and there are lots of things which I have missed out.
There are few Historical characters and facts, which I really want to verify:
- Role of Krishna Menon in Indo-China war of ‘61
- Idiosyncrasies of Mountbatten’s
- Sam Manekshaw’s role in ’65 and 71’ war
- Gen Yahya khan and Tikka Khan’s
- Ayub khan and Military coupe in Pakistan
- Mujib-ur-Rehman and his conflicts with Julfikar Ali Bhutto and Ayub Khan
Other than these historical events, there are amazing descriptions of Kashmir, Bombay, Karachi, Delhi and Sundarbans.
I was really engrossed while reading such vivid descriptions of life, in almost every form you can think of. Please do read this amazing piece of Literature, as I have given you enough reasons for this.
Extracts from the book:
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In St Thomas's Cathedral, Miss Mary Pereira is learning about the colour of God.
'Blue,' the young priest said earnestly. 'All available evidence, my daughter, suggests that Our Lord Christ Jesus was the most beauteous crystal shade of pale sky blue.'
The little woman behind the wooden latticed window of the confessional fell silent for a moment. An anxious, cogitating silence. Then: 'But how, Father? People are not blue. No people are blue in the whole big world!'
Bewilderment of little woman, matched by perplexity of the priest ... because this is not how she's supposed to react. The Bishop had said, 'Problems with recent converts ... when they ask about color they're almost always that ... important to build bridges, my son. Remember,' thus spoke the Bishop, 'God is love; and the Hindu love-god, Krishna, is always depicted with blue skin. Tell them blue; it will be a sort of bridge between the faiths; gently does it, you follow; and besides blue is a neutral sort of colour, avoids the usual Color problems, gets you away from black and white:
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Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems - but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems more and more incredible.
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In my India, Gandhi will continue to die at the wrong time.
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Most of what matters in your life takes place in your absence.
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I no longer want to be anything except what who I am. Who what am I? My answer: I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I've gone which would not have happened if I had not come. Nor am I particularly exceptional in this matter; each 'I', every one of the now-six-hundred-million-plus of us, contains a similar multitude. I repeat for the last time: to understand me, you'll have to swallow a world.
--> Mishra
