Author: Vaishnavi Moturi

Countries progress in tandem with the actions and ideals set out by their governments, regardless of the integrity of the intent of such ideals. But when the government assumes control in the aftermath of a turbulent Independence and Partition, its actions often spark controversy as nation-building inherently tends to leave many behind in the interests of a few. A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry not only delivers a thorough primer on the Indian condition post-Partition but also maneuvers through a tumultuous whirlwind of multi-faced intentions, terribly unfortunate circumstances, and the power of friendship in the face of unceasing horrors.

Such a literary triumph was partially accomplished through a third-person omniscient point of view which while subtly switching perspectives and backstories from chapter to chapter also counterintuitively served to establish an undertone of absence as the reader was left yearning for the resolution of the characters’ ultimately unfulfilled destinies. Mistry’s usage of the third-person is a powerful narrative vehicle that exposes the disconnect between societal expectations and the characters' internal struggles, portraying the volatility of the human condition. Such a mosaic of diverse viewpoints further allows the reader to draw connections between otherwise disparate characters - who ultimately met as a draw of circumstance. Yet, regardless of the perspective of the reader, such motifs of endless tumults remain strikingly present in India’s society today, as government lethargy & corruption often persist, despite seemingly genuine intentions, in tempering the ambitions of millions of working-class Indians who aim to craft a life of meaning from nothing.

Authentically crafted, Mistry weaves together the lives of four individuals, each bound to their uniquely predestined trajectories and faced with the unforgiving realities of traversing a deeply divided nation in the hopes of a better, brighter future. Such unmistakable divisions traverse a taut parallel with the India of today which concurrently reflects the hopes of some and the fears of others as the Hindu Nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party kindles fears of religious extremism through often construed as inflammatory rhetoric that ends up alienating religious minorities or ethnic groups to whom such rhetoric feels isolating and even targeted. These divisions of society - essentially the caste system - are sowed not from the people themselves, but rather by the society that has structured the country in a way comparable to a lifelike maze, in which one has no choice but to make their way through it. The only real choice they have is an illusion of whether to go right or left, but escaping the maze itself is nothing but an unrealistic reverie. As Mistry succinctly stated, “Democracy is a see-saw between complete chaos and tolerable confusion” (Mistry 431). Thus, the democracy of India under the Emergency was as dynamic as it was chaotic, with unchecked turbulence as one possibility and “tolerable confusion” as another. Often, under the tortures of caste-based discrimination and societal divisions built to ensure a false premise of stability in a population of 600 million people, chaos prevailed - although government officials would inevitably go out of their way to portray a convincing facade of order (an order ultimately built upon the backs of the ethnic and religious minorities).

A Fine Balance traverses from Ishvar and Omprakash Darji, two lower-caste individuals (uncle and nephew) whose lives were indelibly marred by unimaginable caste violence tragedies and yet who still hold on to each other’s witty banter to find opportunity in the city, to Maneck Kolhah, a well-off college student battling his parents' expectations with his qualms about hostel life, and to Dina Dalal, a remarkably independent widow whose life was fraught with painful shocks, aiming to stave off dependence on her older brother — the novel expertly navigates the inherent divisions in Indian society through the lens of four ambitiously complex lives.

Dina Dalal, especially, exemplifies Mistrys’ thread of individual autonomy - particularly from people who have never and are traditionally never granted such autonomy in a traditional India - in the face of a society that seemingly appears to conspire against them at every turn. When Nusswan, Dina Dalal’s older, domineering brother frustratingly prods Dina into a second marriage, Dina stands firm, despite his “sledgehammer hints” that extol the virtues of numerous potential suitors”, unwilling to sacrifice her newfound independence for another man who likely would come to mirror Nusswan’s oppressive dynamics. “After four months of bachelor-entertaining”, Nusswan’s anger came out in full force, modeling his behavior in Dina’s youth when his anger would spill over and cause Dina to cower in fear. He begins his spiel in the manner of a sacrificing, kind host instead of the older brother that he is, declaring “I have been tactful, I have been kind, I have been reasonable. But which Raja’s son are you waiting for?.... Your whole life will be nothing. Be sensible” (Mistry 57). Perhaps Nusswann did indeed want nothing than the best for his younger sister, but to willfully ignore her wishes and the obvious fact that Dina was more than thriving on her own illustrates how in reality he cared more about how their family was perceived by the neighbors and family than the well-being of Dina. Mistry portrays Dina as an exception to many women of the time, who were often relegated to the role of homemaker and were denied opportunities for education either for financial or cultural reasons. Despite persistent pressures from her family to marry and settle, she forged her course, establishing a sewing business and renting out her apartment to provide for herself. Such an initiative was especially difficult in a society that was gradually conforming to Western ideals yet still tightly clung to traditional expectations to preserve traditional cultures in the face of a barrage of Westernization.

Beyond the four individuals, India itself, in A Fine Balance, is seen as a nation gone rogue, eerily resembling Huxley’s Brave New World, with laws that purportedly attempt to bridge the divides between rich and poor, yet, in reality, suppress basic individual freedoms and incite bribery and corruption in government-run facilities resulting in prescribed privilege for those with connections and power, and the destined destruction of the vast majority living in destitution. Big Brother materializes himself as Indira Gandhi, a godlike figure to be revered and humbled by, yet whose presence in A Fine Balance seems always to foreshadow anguish and torment. Editorials became closely monitored and all of a sudden, disparate opinions - which arguably form the foundation of the free press we have grown accustomed to - conglomerated into one unified stance supporting every and all actions the Prime Minister issued, even those undoubtedly unjust in the eyes of most people today. As one “groveling scribe” wrote, “Can the Prime Minister have incarnated at least some of the gods in herself? Beyond doubt, she possesses a dormant power, lying coiled at the base of her spine, the Kundalini Shakti which is now awakening and carrying her into transcendence” (Mistry 681). Such absurdly obsequious text would normally have no place in modern editorials which often pride themselves on perspectives backed by objective truths.

Despite the unrelenting dystopian backdrop, however, kindness is seen in the humanization of the numerous street beggars whose desires are intrinsically the same as anyone else’s and in the ability of fortunate individuals and impoverished tailors to put aside their differences and find compassion with each other. For instance, when the news of the death of a friendly beggar got to Om, Ishvar, and Maneck, their grief was palpable and they vowed to attend the cremation, unheeding the calls of others who warned of the negative perception of going to a beggar’s funeral. It shocked others to see Maneck, well-off and educated, especially so intent on attending. He tells Dina “‘I don’t want to argue, Aunty. I am going to the cremation.’ His voice was soft, emphasizing each word”. Dina, Maneck, Om, and Ishvar also began to form a strangely comforting bond. It all happened without warning and one day Dina “wondered if something uncontrollable had been started” (Mistry 461) - if the strange assortment of people who had once barely tolerated each other had become an incongruous family of sorts.

Rohinton Mistry accurately depicts the horrors of Indira Gandhi’s imposed Emergency, from forced sterilization and unjust police brutality to caste violence and sudden disappearances of people speaking out against the government — all powered by eloquent propaganda dished out by obsequious officials. Much like in 1984, where Winston obediently repeated how “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past” (Orwell 313), here in The Emergency, those who control the media control the people themselves. Collective rhetoric, after all, is heavily impacted by the media, and skewing this collective rhetoric becomes frighteningly effortless when the government lacks checks on its media - it becomes nothing but an indoctrination mill serving no one but the prime minister and her government’s interests. These horrors serve only to further portray how stagnancy in social mobility & socioeconomic inequalities were counterintuitively exacerbated further by policies vowing equality under the Emergency, due to the simultaneous suppression of fundamental human rights and promotion of incompetent government officials.

Alarmingly, moreover, parallels in social stagnancy are seen today in modern India where despite the illegality of caste-based discrimination written in the Indian Consitution in 1950, lower-caste families continue to live in poverty at higher rates and experience low rates of college completion, illustrating how although the Emergency is long behind the country, the tremors of the earthquake that is the Emergency are still felt to this day.

Worse yet was the degradation of justice during the Emergency, as the Supreme Court’s ability to transform the prime minister’s, Indira Gandhi's, guilt into innocence resulted in the loss of value for anything decreed by any court of justice in India. “Money can buy the necessary police order. Justice is sold to the highest bidder” (Mistry 497) No longer was justice a moral obligation, but rather an ideal issued to the highest bidder or the one with the most influence. Mistry, therefore, portrays law as nothing better than “a museum of cheap tricks”, neglecting its job to “[strengthen] the sinews of society” (Mistry 646). Trust and honor become aspirational endeavors as people begin only to hope for any measure of compensation for the losses they’ve endured — never daring to look for more. Dina Dalal, after losing her apartment to landlords desiring to hike the rent for aspirational tenants willing to fill the landlords’ coffers, turns with desperation to the law only to be assaulted by lawyers hoping to make a quick buck — with no consolation of any measure of righteousness. I wonder though about Mistry’s choice to portray Vasantrao Valmik, a lawyer whose outward impression speaks integrity, as highly, often unnecessarily, eloquent — almost resembling the sophisticated diction used by the deceiving government themselves — an entity Valmik attempts to excessively distance his ideals from. Was this appearance supposed to project trust for Dina who, in any case, was a potential client for Valmik? Considering Dina lost the lawsuit, was Valmik indeed the honorable man he appeared to be? Valmik states “The Law is a grim, unsmiling thing. Not Justice, though. Justice is witty and whimsical and kind and caring” (Mistry 651). Yet, ironically enough justice in the hands of corrupt lawyers becomes worse than the Law - which is at least impartial and standardized.

Mistry’s juxtaposition of the blatantly impudent lawyers and the superficially obsequious lawyer serves to portray how nothing is as it seems and how The Emergency is a period so severely marked by chaos and instability that everyone, even those in traditionally respectable positions, is relegated to becoming selfishly inauthentic, and inhumane. Now that the highest court of law had renounced its trust to the public, what hope remained for smaller, already struggling courts serving desperate, often dispirited citizens? If the higher courts were to set an example, then their corruption could only be a harbinger of further corruption - an unmistakable ripple-down effect.

Despite the blatant stance against Indira Gandhi and her actions taken by Mistry in A Fine Balance, proponents of Indira's actions claim that despite the Emergency’s clear failure in ameliorating social inequalities, her policies strengthened national security and improved foreign relations through policies whose actions still have important effects on the nation today, such as the decrease in domestic inflation as well as her firm stance in the Nonaligned Movement. Although these actions went unacknowledged in A Fine Balance and remain important to consider in the view of the nation’s economic and political development, they do not compensate and surely do not overshadow in the slightest the horrific tragedies endured by millions during the Emergency. Another vocal critique involves arguments that put the blame not solely on Indira but instead on multiple government systems at the local and regional levels whose actions went contrary to Indira’s aims. Regardless, however, of whose fault the Emergency rests, the horrors endured by the country and people as a whole remain incontrovertible.