THINK of the ‘Raj’ and ‘romance’ and M.M. Kaye’s The Far Pavilions, published in 1978, is probably the first book that will spring to your mind. But there also exist a number of other writers known for tackling the same subject from a variety of angles.
The central themes of the majority of Raj romances are, unsurprisingly, love and war, with occasionally the once taboo subject of cross-cultural relationships thrown in sometimes. This was the case in The Emerald Peacock (1978) by Katherine Gordon, Dance of the Peacocks (1988) by Elizabeth De Guise and, of course, in the widely acclaimed The Far Pavilions. Novels like Valerie Fitzgerald’s Zemindar (1981), and The Moghul (1983) by Thomas Hoover, claim to be based on historical events though questions have been raised about their authenticity; neither novel is as meticulously researched as Kaye’s novels are known to be. However, as this particular genre is fiction and not history, factual errors are apt to be taken, if spotted, with a generous pinch of salt as long as they don’t detract from the story.
The lure of this particular period of history has yet to lose its sparkle for both writers and readers. Without the latter, there would be no sales, no money spinning reprints and no lucrative film rights to transform these works into household names. The big question is why so many ‘recognised’ Raj romances are written for a western market and by westerners?
European countries colonised, exploited and, in some cases, all but ruined the indigenous cultures of the diverse countries they occupied all over the world. But somehow, though large swathes of Africa, South America, Far East et al were all ruled by the British, French, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and, later on, by America, comparatively few writers set their bodice-ripping romances on those shores with the exception of Wilbur Smith and June Knox-Mawer whose locations are extremely wide-ranging.
India of the days of the Raj appears to exert some kind of special attraction for western readers whether or not they have dared to venture into this part of the world. In spite of this attraction though, when immigrants from the subcontinent arrive in the hopes of gaining a foothold in what are perceived to be wealthy western countries, they are often discriminated against. People from the subcontinent are obviously more acceptable in the pages of an entertaining book than in real life. Of course, maybe if they land in all the finery of romantic, period fiction, with the exotic clothing, jewels and grandly caparisoned elephants, they might be more acceptable.
When writers from the subcontinent base their stories in the same era, the results tend be more ‘realistic’. They take more care to incorporate the nitty-gritty traumas of life in the subcontinent compared to their western counterparts. Western writers of romantic fiction, almost unilaterally gloss over poverty and other misfortunes of the Raj era. Their aim seems to be to provide escapism and not painful reminders that all was far from being picture perfect.
When it comes to factual romantic accounts of this ‘exotic’ and ‘intriguing’ era, few fiction devotees are prepared to read the relatively sparse literary offerings available, although the widely acclaimed White Mughals — Love and Betrayal in Eighteenth-Century India by William Dalrymple (2002) is, perhaps, an exception.
Flights of romantic fantasy centering on handsome Indian princes and genteel, dispossessed and penniless British governesses, are devoured largely by readers who seem to be seeking momentary escape from the realities of modern life, an escape they maybe cannot so easily find in historical fiction set in their own, all too real, countries. They may not have the opportunity to visit our shores in person but in their minds and imaginations they walk invisibly among us.