Constant that is conflict

Constant that is conflict

The masterpiece from the 2022 Booker Prize-winning team examines clashes that turn friends into foes
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The premise of Geetanjali Shree’s 1998 book, which has been translated into English by Daisy Rockwell as Our City, That Year, is something we’ve heard often, in both fact and fiction. The us vs them debate, however, still needs to be assertively retold to remain in the country’s consciousness. The book is bold, direct and political.

Shruti, a writer, is married to Hanif. Hanif and Sharad are friends, such that the vegetable seller assumes them to be brothers. They teach history at a university. Shruti and Hanif live in Sharad’s home, where they enjoy the madhumalti vine that has risen on their balcony, and the jovial company of Daddu, Sharad’s dad. The three comprise the ‘liberal us’, the ‘secular us’, and the ‘intellectual us’.

As they roam around, documenting a city torn by communal riots, there is another character—an unknown narrator, only identified as “I”, who chronicles how the world within them changes.

Near the university is a swelling Ashram, breeding a cult of Devi devotees, with their cry of Jai Jagadambe that is less about religion and more about asserting majoritarianism. Although Shree doesn’t implicitly refer to the Babri Mosque, there’s a “neutered mosque-temple” in the city. There’s also a bridge dividing this side from that.

Amid the widening chasm, Hanif and Sharad set an example. “So which of us is Hindu and which is Muslim?” asks Hanif, asserting there isn’t any difference. However, as the frenzy of communal fervour takes over the city, the equation of friendship and brotherhood starts to change.

The churn isn’t abrupt. “The problem is with them, with those who are not us, and not you; it’s those people, the ones on the other side of the bridge, the ones that riot: those people,” Hanif is told at the university by a professor, as the communal divide becomes pronounced.

“Everything has become Hindu-Muslim, every colour, every word, every salaam-namaskar, achkan-dhoti, even green and yellow,” Shree writes. She fleshes out the contraction of vocabulary in minute details. Here, the inner conflicts of individuals, stirred by the conflict outside, warrant a reading that is slow and deep.

Shruti cannot find words to pen what is happening around her, so she ends up writing love stories. Hanif, once assertive, grows reclusive as the incessant Islamophobic rhetoric numbs him. Sharad, meanwhile, increasingly assesses his identity as a Hindu.

The book is brilliant in more ways than one. It brings forth the limitations of being an intellectual. Sharad ponders, “If they... twist and break... the past... for their own communalist views... do we not... do the same.”

Although written in the wake of the Babri Masjid demolition, the book isn’t about a singular event. Rather, it dives deep into what happens in the build-up of such an event, and how communal forces further their agenda through speeches, books and pamphlets.

It also brilliantly elucidates how the seeds of tension in the present are sown in the past. “In our home we kept china dishes just for Muslim guests! And none of us was offended by any of it,” Daddu comments. Sharad ponders upon an incident from his childhood, when for a school function, he had to act in an adaptation of Premchand’s Eidgah. “The group of children was to shout Allahu Akbar! But not all of us were willing to say that,” he says. And when Shruti retorts that “Allahu Akbar means God is great,” Sharad says, “We feared this god.”

The writing style that Shree employs here is disjointed, but that’s not a bad thing. The book doesn’t have chapters, and the scene shifts from Shruti and Hanif enjoying the sight of madhumalti to vitriolic rhetoric coming out of the ashram, and Sharad getting perturbed by Hanif’s changed behaviour. The style reflects on the communal conflict, which itself is never linear—killings and rapes happen even as people go about their everyday tasks.

Our City, That Year is gripping, relevant and makes you notice the world around you more deeply. Complementing Shree’s work is Rockwell’s translation, where she keeps the language simple and effective. And together, this International Booker Prize-winning duo has created another masterpiece.

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The New Indian Express
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