Sunday, March 6, 2005

Healthy v. Potentially Destructive Self-Interest in The God of Small Things and Samskara

Both Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things and U.R. Anantha Murthy’s Samskara are centered on the debate over traditional societal structure versus individual agency. However, the two novels differ in theme: The God of Small Things unambiguously supports individual agency over traditional structure, whereas Samskara presents a more complex view in which both sides are shown to have flaws and merits. Both authors use types of self-interest on each side as a lens through which to present their cases: in The God of Small Things, we find destructive self-interest only on the side of tradition, whereas in Samskara, we find it on both sides of the divide.

In The God of Small Things, the conflict between tradition and individual agency surfaces in the form of the “Love Laws”—laws inherent in the societal structure that forbid love between certain people, such as between people from different castes, and such as between siblings. (“[It could be argued t]hat it [all—the sequence of events that would lead to a great deal of destruction] really began in the days when the Love Laws were made. The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much” (33).) The novel tells the story of twins, Esthappen and Rahel. Their family owns a canning factory, which has employed an outcaste man, Velutha. The children enjoy playing with Velutha. Their mother, Ammu, who has been abandoned by her husband and is increasingly shut out from the management of the factory by her un-business-smart Oxford-educated brother, falls in love with Velutha and meets and sleeps with him secretly. When Velutha’s father realizes what is going on, he tells Ammu’s mother, Mammachi. She and her sister, Baby Kochamma, lock Ammu in her room, where, in her desperation, she curses Rahel and Estha through the door.

Tuesday, March 1, 2005

Waiting

Gray grit under red plush
My nose dabbles in gray lint
Eyes fight ancient loose flesh
Begone, obstinate gray tint!

I sift fragrant pale dust
Pastel chemical sharp guilt
Can’t shed jaded aged sight
Beware—lavender scenes melt.

Why come, scarlet strange gust?
Return, vanishing life’s glint!
Don’t dare tremble, heart’s thrust,
Despite spiraling scarred faults...

Stiff grip grabs a stuck crust
My nails wiggle a stale mint
One chance finds my choice lost
Intent tangles my round brush.