The Single and the Many
Born at the dawn of Indian independence and destined,
upon his death, to break into as many pieces as there are citizens
of India, Saleem Sinai manages to represent the entirety of India
within his individual self. The notion that a single person could
possibly embody a teeming, diverse, multitudinous nation like India
encapsulates one of the novel’s fundamental concerns: the tension
between the single and the many. The dynamic relationship between
Saleem’s individual life and the collective life of the nation suggests
that public and private will always influence one another, but it
remains unclear whether they can be completely equated with one
another. Throughout the novel, Saleem struggles to contain all of
India within himself—to cram his personal story with the themes
and stories of his country—only to disintegrate and collapse at
the end of his attempt.
Politically speaking, the tension between the single and
the many also marks the nation of India itself. One of the fastest
growing nations in the world, India has always been an incredibly
diverse. Its constitution recognizes twenty-two official languages,
and the population practices religions as varied as Hinduism, Islam,
Christianity, Sikhism, and Buddhism, among many others. Indian culture
is similarly hybrid, having been influenced by countless other cultures over
the millennia of its development. At the same time, however, maintaining
India’s sprawling diversity in a peaceful fashion has often proved
difficult: India’s division into the Islamic nation of Pakistan
and the secular, but mostly Hindu nation of India—a process known
as Partition—remains the most striking example of the desire to
contain and reduce India’s plurality. In Midnight’s Children,
the child Saleem watches as protestors attempt to do divide the city
of Bombay along linguistic lines, another attempt to categorize and
cordon off multiplicity.
Saleem, a character who contains a multitude of experiences
and sensitivities, stands in stark contrast to the protestors who
demand their own language-based region, the strict monotheism of
Pakistan, and Indira Gandhi’s repression of contradictory dissension. His
powers of telepathy allow him to transcend the barriers of language,
while he himself—with his English blood, poor background, wealthy
upbringing, and eclectic religious influeces—reflects India’s diversity
and range. The Midnight Children’s Conference that he convenes is,
in its initial phase, a model for pluralism and a testimony to the
potential power inherent within coexisting diversity, which is a
natural and definitive element of Indian culture. In Midnight’s
Children, the desire for singularity or purity—whether
of religion or culture—breeds not only intolerance but also violence and
repression.
The Unreliability of Memory and Narrative
Factual errors and dubious claims are essential aspects
of Saleem’s fantastic narrative. He willfully acknowledges that
he misplaced Gandhi’s death, an obviously seminal moment in India’s
history, as well as willfully misremembers the date of an election.
He frets over the accuracy of his story and worries about future
errors he might make. Yet, at the same time, after acknowledging
his error, Saleem decides to maintain his version of events, since
that’s how they appeared to occur to him and now there can be no
going back. Despite its potential historical inaccuracies, Saleem
sees his story as being of equal importance as the world’s most
important religious texts. This is not only his story but also the
story of India. The errors in his story, in addition to casting
a shadow of doubt over some of what he claims, point to one of the
novel’s essential claims: that truth is not just a matter of verifiable
facts. Genuine historical truth depends on perspective—and a willingness
to believe. Saleem notes that memory creates its own truth, and
so do narratives. Religious texts and history books alike stake
their claim in truth not only because they are supported by facts
but also because they have been codified and accepted upon, whether
by time or faith. The version of history Saleem offers comes filtered
through his perspective, just as every other version of history
comes filtered through some alternate perspective. For Saleem, his
version is as true as anything else that could be written, not just
because this is the way he has arranged it, but because this is
the version he believes.
Destruction vs. Creation
The battle between Saleem and Shiva reflects the ancient,
mythological battle between the creative and destructive forces
in the world. The enmity and tension between the two begin at the
moment of their simultaneous births. The reference to Shiva, the
Hindu god of both destruction and procreation, reflects not only
the tension between destruction and creation but also the inextricably
bound nature of these two forces. Saleem, as the narrator of Midnight’s Children,
is responsible for creating the world we, as readers, are engaged
in. He represents Brahma, the god of creation. What Saleem creates,
however, is not life, but a story. By delivering Saleem into the
hands of the Widow, Shiva is responsible for the destruction of
the midnight’s children, and yet, by fathering Aadam and hundreds
of other children, he ensures the continuation of their legacy.
