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.

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.

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.

The central conflict in Desai's Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard is the struggle between nature and civilization. Throughout the novel, Desai makes powerful observations about the issues that arise from human encroachment on the natural world. At the beginning of the story, Mr. Chawla reads a newspaper that offers various explanations for the drought plaguing Shahkot. With the monsoons delayed, the community fears for their crops and livelihoods, and they seek comfort by concocting reasons for the monsoons' absence. They search for something or someone to blame, filling the void of anxiety created by this natural, inexplicable phenomenon.

Similarly, when Sampath escapes to the guava orchard, he initially experiences a sense of liberation and joy in his thoughts and interactions with others. He feels free from humanity's inclination to categorize and analyze, and even the disorderly monkeys become calm as they perch in the trees. However, nature cannot remain untouched by human interference for long. As crowds of devotees gather and the orchard begins to resemble a bustling city, the monkeys revert to their disruptive behavior, searching for alcohol and terrorizing the pilgrims and Sampath himself. It seems that the monkeys symbolize nature's anger in response to human defilement. Nature has come full circle, and humanity must confront the repercussions of its domineering treatment of the environment.

Among Desai's contemporaries are Manil Suri and her mother, Anita Desai. Additionally, several stories highlight Indian culture and the challenges of assimilating other cultures into the Indian cultural landscape.

The Death of Vishnu (2001), the debut novel by Manil Suri, narrates the tale of Vishnu, a handyman who is dying on the staircase he inhabits. Meanwhile, his neighbors, the Pathaks and the Asranis, bicker over who will pay for an ambulance. As the story unfolds through the various floors of the apartment building, readers discover the histories of the residents, from Mr. Jalal's intense quest for spiritual meaning to Vinod Taneja's sorrow over his deceased wife, and the humorous elopement of Kavita Asrani, who imagines herself as the star of a Hindi film.

The Glass Palace (2001), a remarkable novel by Amitav Ghosh, whom the acclaimed novelist Peter Matthiessen has praised as "an exceptional writer." This epic tale of love and conflict begins with the fall of Burma's kingdom and the spark of a profound romance. It follows the journey of Rajkumar, a poor boy who builds an empire in the Burmese teak forests during the British invasion of 1885, and explores the story of a people, a fortune, and a family through his eyes.

Arundhati Roy, an award-winning Indian screenwriter, dazzles readers with her evocative wordplay in her debut novel. The God of Small Things (1997) primarily tells the story of young twins Rahel and Estha and their family. However, the book feels like a myriad of stories interwoven together. Written in a refreshingly new English influenced by Indian culture and language, it captivates readers with its unique narrative style.

No discussion of related titles to Desai would be complete without mentioning the incomparable Salman Rushdie, who was a strong advocate for Desai's first novel. In 1990, he published Haroun and the Sea of Stories, a fairy tale that serves as an allegory for the fight between tyranny and free speech. The story follows Haroun, a twelve-year-old boy whose father, the city's greatest storyteller, loses his storytelling gift. Once deemed an "ocean of notions," his father is now mockingly called "the Shah of Blahs." Haroun embarks on a quest to restore his father's creativity, facing and overcoming epic adversaries in the form of fairy tale characters.

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.