A worthy follow-up to Tomb of Sand

Geetanjali Shree’s latest novel captures the moral degradation and erosion of the secular compact in the 1990s, after the Babri Masjid demolition.

Vishva Hindu Parishad activists gather at the Kar Sevak Puram workshop where stone pillars, slabs are kept for the possible use in the construction of the Ram temple, while participating in ‘Dharam Sabha’, at Ayodhya on November 25, 2018.  | Photo Credit: Rajeev Bhatt

Geetanjali Shree acquired well-deserved international recognition when she was awarded the International Booker Prize in 2022 for her novel Tomb of Sand, translated by Daisy Rockwell from the Hindi original, Ret Samadhi. This novel has since entered the pantheon of the finest works of Partition literature. As a chronicler of the continuing afterlife of Partition, Shree has been able to generate new insights, often from a distinctive feminist point of view.

In Our City That Year, a recently published translation by Rockwell of Shree’s second novel, Hamara Shahar us Baras (1998), Shree’s knack of providing fresh perspectives on socio-historical events is evident again, albeit in a novel written two decades ago. While not as stylistically innovative as Tomb of Sand, this narrative about the rise of Hindu fundamentalism in the 1990s and the impact of the ideology on personal relations within a family living in a mofussil town in central India carries a definite punch. The unnamed narrator records in episodic form the effects of escalating communal violence and student machismo cast in the Hindutva idiom. A group of college teachers in the sociology department of a university adjacent to an ashram where such right-wing mobilisation reaches a fever pitch are especially affected.

Our City That Year

By Geetanjali Shree, translated by Daisy Rockwell

Penguin Hamish Hamilton

Pages: 432

Price: Rs.699

The sociology teachers Hanif (married to Shruti) and his close friend, Sharad, live together in Sharad’s family home on different floors, along with Sharad’s grandfather Daddu. This group of friends negotiate the cauldron of university politics and rising Hindu nationalist assertion with difficulty (given Hanif’s minority identity and anti-communal stance) while engaging in fierce arguments about what might constitute an appropriate position and course of action, whether in the classroom/seminar hall or outside the university environs, as public intellectuals.

Our City That Year is a translation by Daisy Rockwell of Geetanjali Shree’s second novel, Hamara Shahar us Baras (1998). | Photo Credit: By Special Arrangement

As an eccentric elder endowed with comic, at times near-mystical insights about life and living, Daddu comes to embody an off-centre alternative to the reductive ideological tendencies. However, he too eventually falls prey to the escalating communal violence taking hold of the public domain. In the concluding section, Daddu utters a string of invectives at a group of students who have come to attack Hanif on account of Hanif’s contrarian views, at which Daddu is beaten up and thrown into the bushes. Although he does not die, he retreats into self-enforced silence. The silencing of this spokesperson for the complex inheritance of syncretic civilisational ideals is perhaps the most tragic aspect of the narrative.

Witnessing, recording

In its criticism of the decline of secular culture in the wake of the Babri Masjid demolition, the novel asks significant questions about the deep insecurities underlying the rise in aggression against minorities in India. Also crucial to the novel is self-awareness about the difficulties of writing about rioting and violence. As an aspiring writer, Shruti seeks to find the right form to express the reality of communal bigotry and intimidation of minorities, especially in the face of attempts to silence dissenting thinkers, scholars, and authors. Her efforts often lapse into incompleteness, given the atmosphere of fear and the banal repetition of news about violence. It is this lacuna that the unnamed narrator seeks to fill as a copyist, amateur detective, and interpreter; her account, in effect, becomes a testimony to the unspeakable aspects of such traumatic historical events as they unfold in time.

While the university setting and the portrayal of concerned teachers under siege give a sense of the author’s interest in social science debates on communalism, it is the vivid capturing of the psychological impact of rising communal mobilisation and prejudice that remains with the reader. This is especially true of the depiction of the relationship between Shruti and Hanif, symbols of possibilities lost along the way. The narrative thus bears witness, even if in a fragmentary form, to the moral degradation and erosion of the secular compact in the 1990s.

Kudos to Daisy Rockwell, whose meticulous translation has enabled this important novel to find a readership in English, a worthy follow-up to Tomb of Sand.

Tarun K. Saint is an independent scholar and anthologist. His interests include the literature of Partition, science fiction, and detective fiction.