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From emancipation from colonial rule, to greater freedom from the shackles of the caste system, the Indian subcontinent has undergone radical change in the last 100 years, change that is not easy for the modern South Asian to comprehend.
Historical documents and the rare first-hand account aside, our generation has little to turn to in the quest for more information about what everyday life was like for the average Indian at the turn of the 20th century.
This is where Indian-American engineer Sujit Saraf's imagination and careful research becomes useful — his second full-length novel The Confession of Sultana Daku is a fictional account of one of rural South Asian folklore's most notorious outlaws, who, with his band of well-trained brigands, is said to have ruthlessly pillaged almost every village in the United Provinces under the British Raj in the early 1900s.
The novel is written in the form of a letter that the illiterate Sultana Daku dictates to a terrified British army officer, who is coerced to record every detail of the magnificent tale of the protagonist's life, in order to be read by his son.
Narrated in the dwindling hours before Sultana Daku's execution, the story starts with fond memories of how he derived his inspiration from his grandfather's resolve to be the most menacing petty thief of his generation.
What follows is a thrilling saga that chronicles Sultana Daku's adventures, which, along with the elaborate and thoroughly fascinating details of the infamous dacoit's exhilarating pursuits, simultaneously provides a snapshot view of an era foregone.
The reader is thus transported to a world where the social hierarchy determined by the caste system reigns, as traders teach their sons how to weigh merchandise dishonestly and thieves teach their sons how to hide stolen coins in the recesses of their mouths; where territorial allegiance and one's sense of duty to one's panchaiyat (local government) are his principal motivation to find subsistence, often trumping his immediate family's needs; where women are considered prizes to be won, until they are 'old hags of 31'; where white sahibs and their superior weaponry are feared while their faraway roots are romanticised; where bonds of brotherhood and loyalty are treasured, verbal contracts are upheld, and treachery is punished mercilessly with vigilante-like initiative — this is a world where the tribal clan determines its own moral code, as the British enforcers of law and order haplessly try to make sense of it all.
As Sultana Daku reflects, 'A Bhantu (thief) is born to lighten the load of those who feel it heaviest on their shoulders.' He often wonders with similar candidness why the sahibs are determined to hunt down and 'punish' his clan merely for following their lot in life.
From the protagonist's outlook, being thrown in jail is tantamount to a waste of time and mild social embarrassment at most, and forced reform is considered a shameful surrender of a thief's birthright to rob and plunder.
After a particularly thrilling depiction of a police chase resulting from one of Sultana's many carefully engineered robberies, he remarks bitterly to his henchmen 'They think we have no respect for the law, but we have no respect for their laws. Our own laws we obey.'
Together with gripping descriptions of action-packed raids and vivid images of the spectacular forests of northern India, the author thus sensitively articulates the deep gulf between the local bandits and their frustrated 'justice' upholding pursuers.
What is most startling is the foresight the reader has of a swift resolution of this seemingly irreconcilable clash of civilisations; Gandhi is mentioned offhand as an urban upstart who seems disconnected from rural realities and is brushed away at most as being a welcome distraction for the dacoits from the sahibs' attention.
The British officer entrusted with Sultana's memoir-like letter, mortified at the nature of the secrets revealed to him, seems unable to sympathise with the dacoit's alien perspective on crime and justice, and this serves to further highlight the ostensibly profound disconnect between them.
Sujit Saraf spins an enchanting narrative, complete with swashbuckling adventure, murder, romance, and melodramatic dialogue, highlighting the Indian tradition's unrelenting penchant for theatrics and a powerful story with visual clarity and style.
There is, however, an excessive use of the local vernacular (rendered in italicised English), which, although understandably utilised to add an element of originality to the protagonist's voice, takes away from an international appreciation of the novel.
The Confession of Sultana Daku is a captivating read, that is successful in transporting the reader to the precarious and undeniably dynamic world of early 20th century India.
The Confession of Sultana Daku
(FOLKLORE)
By Sujit Saraf
Penguin Books, India
ISBN 0-670-08282-7
285pp. Indian Rs399
