Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard
Indian literature has traveled a remarkable journey from being represented by sacred texts influencing select Western readers to a thriving part of global literary culture. This transformation was significantly marked by Salman Rushdie's "Midnight's Children" in 1980, which paved the way for numerous Indian authors who followed. Among them, Kiran Desai's debut novel, "Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard," emerged during a period of heightened interest, offering a refreshingly vibrant addition to Indian writing in English.
The Evolution of Indian Literature in the West
Historically, Indian literature in the West was embodied in the grand, mystical texts that captivated writers like Henry David Thoreau and, through him, Mohandas K. Gandhi. Rabindranath Tagore's Nobel Prize win in 1913, propelled by W.B. Yeats' fascination with Tagore's work, marked a rare moment of Western literary acknowledgment. Yet, for many years post-independence, the significant literary voices from India were few and largely defined by Western authors depicting colonial experiences, such as Rudyard Kipling and E. M. Forster.
The literary landscape began to change dramatically with Salman Rushdie’s "Midnight’s Children," which challenged the stagnant provincialism creeping into British fiction. This novel not only revitalized British literature but also opened the floodgates for a new era of Indian authors who introduced rich narratives and dynamic styles. Rushdie’s success laid the foundation for writers like Bharati Mukherjee, Rohinton Mistry, Vikram Seth, and Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, who gained significant attention in the West.
A Surge of Interest and Success
The approach of India’s fiftieth independence anniversary further boosted interest. Indian literature was featured prominently in magazines such as Granta and The New Yorker. Arundhati Roy’s "The God of Small Things" achieved both critical acclaim and commercial success, securing the Booker Prize and enjoying prolonged best-seller status. This success spotlighted the marketability of Indian literature, setting a stage for Kiran Desai’s "Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard," which also capitalized on Desai’s appeal and media presence.
The novel was presented with an eye-catching dust jacket featuring a quintessentially Indian illustration by John Martinez and was introduced with enthusiastic endorsements from notable authors. Salman Rushdie praised it as proof of India's continued vibrant engagement with the English language, while others like Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni highlighted its radiant narrative and evocative charm. Such endorsements, however, may have set expectations that the novel struggled to fulfill, suggesting more about the fleeting market dynamics than Desai's inherent skill.
Narrative Style and Themes in "Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard"
Unlike Rushdie’s works, rooted in real locales, Desai carves out a fictive space akin to R.K. Narayan's Malgudi. Shahkot, a vivid yet ambiguous town, serves as the backdrop for the novel's humorous and whimsical narrative. Here, amidst a severe drought and societal intricacies, a peculiar character named Kulfi, who is pregnant and craving extravagant foods, gives birth to Sampath, whose birth coincides with a transformative monsoon.
Sampath grows up embodying his mother’s quest for more than mundane respectability, yet unlike her, he lacks the imagination and vigor. His life is a series of farcical events, culminating in a scandalous striptease at a wedding that forces him to flee to a guava orchard. There, mistaken for a holy man due to his insights gleaned from reading others' mail, Sampath unwittingly becomes a spiritual sensation.
A Satirical Reflection of Society
The orchard becomes a bustling hub as pilgrims visit to seek Sampath’s counsel, and commerce flourishes around his newfound status. The narrative cleverly satirizes the interplay between spirituality and commerce, with Sampath’s father exploiting his son's fame for financial gain. The story takes a comedic turn with the arrival of monkeys, whose drunken antics in the orchard disrupt...
(This entire section contains 812 words.)
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the newfound peace, mirroring the chaos of Sampath’s internal and external worlds.
Sampath’s yearning for true peace and escape reflects a deeper philosophical quest, humorously layered with the Hindu concept of breaking free from life's cyclical nature. Meanwhile, other characters like his sister Pinky and a fervent atheist spy add to the novel's complexity, leading to a climactic, comedic resolution where Sampath seemingly transforms into a guava, whisked away by monkeys.
Desai's Literary Approach and Legacy
Desai's narrative style is reminiscent of a folktale, characterized by its simplicity and whimsy. Her work, though playful, draws inevitable comparisons to other literary giants, echoing the influence of predecessors while carving a distinct, youthful path. The novel’s caricature-like characters and elaborate similes contribute to its unique texture, evoking the vibrancy of Mughal art.
Despite its charm, the novel occasionally meanders, prompting questions on whether its substance matches its stylistic flair. Nonetheless, "Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard" remains an important contribution to Indian literature in English, highlighting Desai's potential and the novel's role in sustaining Western interest in Indian narratives. It offers a delightful departure from conventional Anglo-American realism, promising a bright future for its author and the broader spectrum of Indian writing.
Setting
Desai contrasts two primary settings in Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard to highlight both the mundane and magical aspects of her characters' lives. Simultaneously, the author weaves together the elements of setting and character in a way that they mutually influence and bring each other to life.
The narrative begins in the city of Shahkot, India. Right from the outset, the town reflects the emotional state of its inhabitants: it is the peak of summer, and the town is enduring its longest drought in recent memory. Amidst the drought's "murky yellow haze," Kulfi Chawla, a young woman of twenty-one, is heavily pregnant. As her pregnancy progresses, the drought worsens; as the famine spreads, Kulfi's hunger becomes more insatiable. Desai seamlessly integrates the setting with the characters from the novel's beginning, as illustrated by her portrayal of Kulfi's pregnancy: "Kulfi, in these months, was so enormously large, she seemed to be claiming all the earth's energy for herself, sapping it dry, leaving it withered, shriveled and yellow." In this desolate environment, the townspeople observe their impoverished state and resent Kulfi and her relentless appetite.
Shahkot represents a microcosm of governmental bureaucracy and serves as a symbol of the collective's encroachment on individual freedom. This infringement is most evident in the central location of the bazaar, the marketplace for merchants and shoppers. As the town's hub, the bazaar functions as the unofficial arbiter of manners and social status. It is a highly public community because people must conduct their daily transactions in this central shopping area, where gossip is the norm, and it is socially acceptable to ask direct questions about others' family matters. Pinky Chawla, the Chawla family's daughter, is preoccupied with the townspeople's opinions of her and becomes emotionally distressed when her father insists that her behavior of dressing to attract attention and then complaining about being noticed is inappropriate. He subsequently forces her to dress modestly when going to the bazaar, which, as a young lady, embarrasses her greatly. She believes, as do many others in the town, that one's social standing is determined by outward appearances.
At the heart of the town is the post office, "like so many government buildings, painted yellow." Sampath Chawla has been employed at the post office for a while and rides his bicycle to work every day, passing under the barbed-wire fence that the government erected around the postal building to give it a sense of official importance.
Unsurprisingly, the barbed-wire fence is not entirely intact, as the residents of Shahkot, never ones to respect such futile efforts, had quickly set about dismantling this unfortunate barrier. All around their homes, in their gardens and courtyards, they suddenly discovered a need for wire.
The urban landscape starkly contrasts the officious and self-referential nature of the Indian government with the inertia of human tendencies: whatever is established will soon be dismantled. Anything that disrupts the normal flow of life for citizens will quickly be relegated to its proper place in the hierarchy, far below the daily needs of the people. By the novel's conclusion, the government officer, the CMO, has assigned himself a "much needed" vacation and plans to depart, with a convoy of cars and luggage, from Shahkot on the same day that two other government officials, the District Collector and the Brigadier, have mobilized troops to capture the drunken monkeys disturbing the townspeople. All these individuals, along with several onlookers, become entangled in the town's winding streets, unable to accomplish their objectives. The rigid regulations of the governmental bodies backfire, and the claustrophobic city streets amplify their failure to plan with any strategic success.
In stark contrast to the city setting is Desai's portrayal of the guava orchard, and specifically, the guava tree that Sampath Chawla climbs to escape the urban environment. The orchard is lush, brimming with fruit, and ideal for finding peace. Sampath intentionally sought out this tree, and in fleeing civilization, he found refuge in a fruit-bearing, sheltering tree that provided him with a newfound sense of tranquility and simplicity. All the bureaucratic complexities of the city faded away, at least until the city encroached upon the base of the tree.
How beautiful it was here, how exactly as it should be. This orchard matched something he had imagined all his life: myriad green-skinned globes growing sweet-sour and marvelous upon a hillside with enough trees to fill the eye and enough fruit to scent the air. ... And these trees were not so big, or so thick with leaves, or so crowded together, as to obscure the sky, which showed clean through the branches.
In sharp contrast to the claustrophobia of the post office and the city streets, the guava orchard offers a harmonious blend of shade and openness, prosperity and simplicity. However, after only a few days of tranquility, Sampath's family arrives under the tree to demand his return to town, and soon, crowds begin to gather. As Sampath becomes known as "Baba"—a guru—pilgrims start to flock to the orchard to hear his words of wisdom. A makeshift town springs up, complete with a bargaining atmosphere, heaps of trash, and bickering. It isn't long before the government intervenes, and the orchard soon resembles a city. As the orchard-city burgeons, peace vanishes, and eventually, Sampath abandons the orchard altogether, leaving behind a ripe, elongated guava fruit.
Literary Qualities
One of the most striking literary techniques Desai uses is hyperbole. She magnifies every event in the novel, infusing them with nearly magical descriptions. A boy, disillusioned with his regimented life, decides to escape. Instead of running to another city, he climbs a guava tree and chooses to remain there. His stay transforms into a state of sainthood because he read people's mail while working at the post office and thus can speak to them about their personal matters. When Kulfi is pregnant with Sampath, her hunger isn't just intense; it's ravenous, and she becomes utterly fixated on food. When she can no longer bribe market sellers for enough food, she starts drawing the food she craves all over her house walls.
When monkeys appear in the guava orchard, they don't just blend into the scene; they take over, discovering a stash of rum and instantly becoming relentless alcoholics, determined to find and drink every last drop of alcohol in the vicinity.
The absurdity of these scenes pulls the reader out of a realistic perspective, and with each event, the suspension of disbelief is renewed. This technique allows Desai to explore dreamlike imagery and let anything happen in the text. Sometimes, the overwhelming absurdity and unpredictability of the story make it somewhat predictable. As even the most bizarre occurrences become commonplace, Desai risks making the magical events almost self-predicting. For example, when the reader learns that the spy from the Atheist Society is inching closer to the pot in which Kulfi is preparing to cook a monkey, it becomes clear that he will end up in the pot himself. So, when he does, it is grotesque to imagine, but not at all surprising.
However, for the most part, the magical imagery allows the reader to relax the constraints of what is possible within the book's events, adding a powerful element to her writing.
Desai excels at crafting dialogue, and she leverages this talent brilliantly in Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard. She enriches the dialogue with local idioms, vividly portraying life in a small Indian city. The hypocrisy of social norms and the absurdity of bureaucratic red tape are revealed through the characters' language and conversations.
After Sampath's grandmother, Ammaji, gets her new dentures, she buys an ice cream cone and immediately gets her teeth stuck in the frozen treat. A Circus Monkey hanging around the bazaar mistakes them for a bag of peanuts and runs off with them. Ammaji chases after the monkey, yelling:
"Give them back. They’re of no use to you, you foolish donkey."
"Foolish monkey, maji," corrected Hungry Hop, halting abruptly, taken aback by her confusing such distinctly different animals. "He's a monkey, not a donkey."
"Monkey-donkey," yelled Ammaji. "Don't just stand there. Go after him."
And off Hungry Hop goes, remembering his duty, and retrieves the dentures from the monkey.
Bureaucratic absurdity comes to a head at the novel’s conclusion, when various departments are mobilized in the early hours of the morning for the Brigadier and District Collector's plan to capture the inebriated monkeys. The Brigadier orders his troops to march through the city to the orchard, only to collide with a heap of suitcases and bedrolls scattered along the street. Spotting the Chief Medical Officer among the luggage, the Brigadier shouts:
"What are you doing, fatso?" . . .
The CMO turned pale. "Are you addressing me?" he asked with dignity. "If so, I suggest you hold your tongue until you know the state of my health!"
"Move," bellowed the Brigadier. "Move, move, move yourself and your blasted belongings. Now!" . . .
"Due to health issues, I’ve been compelled to take vacation leave in Dasauli. Occasionally, in times of stress—"
"Just move," roared the Brigadier, his face purple with rage. "Move your hundreds of damned suitcases."
"Oh dear," remarked the DC, observing the commotion, "and I personally approved that vacation leave. I suppose it was my fault."
Even when governmental entities collaborate, they can't seem to align their agendas and schedules. Chaos appears to be the only constant in Shahkot.
Vivid descriptions enrich the novel with texture. The Brigadier is described as "dark as a monsoon cloud." When Kulfi prepares meals for Sampath, her passion extends into the cooking process itself.
A single grain of one ingredient, a bud of another, a moist fingertip dipped lightly into a small vial and then into the bubbling pot; a thimbleful, a matchbox full, a coconut shell full of dark crimson and deep violet, of dusty yellow spice, the entire concoction simmered sometimes for a day or two . . . The meats were tenderized to silk, so spiced and aromatic they overwhelmed the senses; the sauces were infused with mysterious hints and dark undertones, grounding you one moment, pulling you under the next.
Desai’s writing tends toward the poetic when describing the town. At night, a car passes through the streets:
A passing car sent its searchlight-glare erratically and fluidly over the sides of the buildings and into the trees, revealing not the colors, the daylight solidity of things, but a world of dark gaps carved from an empty skin of light.
Then, as daylight emerges, the writing becomes more critical:
Sampath observed as the shadows receded, revealing Shahkot once more, whole and unscathed, with its overflowing trash heaps and intricate network of streets. Gradually, he noticed the tangle of wires spilling from the top of the electricity pole and the grimy, stained walls of the towering houses around him, featuring complex rooftops and verandas. These houses were adorned with a jumble of television antennas, drying lines, courtyards cluttered with bicycles, and ragged plants, along with all the trappings of large, boisterous families.
For Further Reference
Rushdie, S., and E. West, eds. The Vintage Book of Indian Writing: 1947-1997. London: Vintage, 1997. This anthology compiles works by Indian authors and those of Indian heritage.
Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. London: Chatto & Windus, 1993. This scholarly work explores the emergence and maintenance of imperialism and its impact on Indian culture.
Related Web Sites
Dixon, Marton. "Pure Fiction Reviews Interviews... Kiran Desai." http://www.pcug.co.uk/~fiction/newrev/intervie/desai.htm Accessed October 21, 2002. Dixon converses with Desai regarding her literary influences and her writing methodology.