The Unbearable Triteness of Boum and Other Problems

A Passage to India fills me with ambivalence - similar to my ambivalence over Kipling's Kim, and it is notable that twenty years separate them and my ambivalence does not wane (though admittedly twenty years is but a short span in history, literary or otherwise). Indeed, Forster is sympathetic towards the natives, indeed the white administration is portrayed far worse than the locals, but indeed it is nevertheless still a white man's sympathy. If there is a 'hero' in this polyphonic text, it is Fielding. Generalisations (on the part of the seemingly objective narrator, laying aside the generalisations made by characters whose viewpoints are incorporated into the narration) about India and Indians are made sweepingly even as Aziz points out "there is no such person in existence as the general Indian' (XXX, 232) - when Fielding reali[ses] "the profundity of the gulf that divided him from them. They always do something disappointing," his point is constantly being proven by the irrationalities and cruelties of every Indian character, no matter how likeable. In contrast, the generalisations too made about Westerners in India are often disproved by Fielding and to an extent Adela, the only characters in the book who always follow the path of truth without prompting. The capper is Ralph Moore, who descends during an Indian holy festival and directs the native Aziz to the uncanny image of the Rajah, prompting Aziz to "[feel] that his companion was not so much a visitor as a guide" (XXXVI, 274) - even if Aziz had declared him an "Oriental" (XXXVI, 272), it is still a white man who performs this ultimate messianic act. It struck me as a hypocrisy of sorts, the hypocrisy - conscious or otherwise? - of an English intellectual who can quite rightly lambaste the white administration but can too seem not to think it presumptuous to declare "there is something hostile in [Indian] soil" (11) and just about conclude with a white messiah. Dr. Koh's Ashis Nandy quote actually helped to quell my ire here; "all representations of India are ultimately autobiographical," and I tried to remind myself so too is Forster's. Even if his Indians indeed "always do something disappointing" and "there is something hostile in that soil," "a hundred Indias…whisp[er] outside beneath the indifferent moon" and the thought that "India seem[s] one"(I, 8) is merely illusion, whether for his Indians or him.

And yet, still ambivalence, for though "a hundred Indias…whisper" - "boum, it amounts to the same." (XXIII, 180) What am I to think of Mrs Moore's existentialist crisis? In Part III, we perhaps come to see that "boum" is hardly a problem for India as it is for Mrs Moore and Adela, for "it amounts to the same" is celebrated: "they loved all men, the whole universe…to melt into the universal warmth." (XXXIII, 249) Could it be a sign of the irreconcilability of the Eastern and Western mind, that the Caves, as the sky, say "no, not there" (XXXVII, 282) in "boum," so that Mrs Moore in her proclaimed Orientalness can "know" (XXIX, 228) but as inevitably a Westerner cannot cope with? The Western mind that "hope[s]" Shri Krishna will "[come] in some other song" where the Indian mind cannot "[understand the] question [of whether he comes in some other song]" and accepts that "he neglects to come," (VII, 66) that "God is not born yet - that will occur at midnight - but He has also been born centuries ago, nor can He ever be born." (XXXIII, 247) But then, if "Boum, it amounts to the same," what of the fact that the "hundred Indias" are not the same, and Sri Krishna is of the Hindu and Aziz is Moslem? Do Forster's contradictions have a point, or is he too struggling with India and "boum?" So for now, more ambivalence. I look forward to discussion, and while there are several other issues that seized my interest greatly, I'll save them for next week's blog post, just in case. One last point, to raise my dear Levine (whom, I have too noticed, seems oddly significantly less polemic in "Britain in India" than in "Ruling an Empire"), "Britain in India" illustrates that the India of which Forster writes was subject to a great many tensions, and often violent action. In Passage, I see little of chronicled widespread movement, and instead a strong focus on a singular and relatively trivial matter, that even when the community is moved to action, it is an easily subdued affair. Even the violence during Mohurram is all but elided, and defused with comedy. "It amounts to the same," Auerbach's (relatively) "random moment," (552) or something else altogether (such as lingering colonial sentiment, which I hesitate to suggest)? I cannot presume Forster's intentions, but I struggle to judge if I consider it a feature or a flaw.

And a clarification on Levine (er, outside of my two legitimate passages): contrary to what I fear might be popular opinion, I don't have a problem with her content in "Ruling an Empire" - there is not a lot she says that I don't agree with to one extent or another. What I have a problem with is that either 1. she takes it for granted that I would agree with everything she says, or 2. she is desperate to convince me that I should agree with everything she says. If it is 1, I take offence that she presumes me, the audience, so presumptously (as Dr. Koh conjectured in class), if it is 2, I am aghast at how blatantly she goes about her convincing, that I can see so clearly that what is intended to be read as fact is a desperately argued argument. It's just sloppy. Of course every "objective" historical article is really a subjective persuasive argument, but I consider it the hallmark of a successful(ly masquerading) historian to be able to couch the latter as the former. But you may also consider me a history prude, and it is only one person's opinion.