The God of Small Things: Lessons of History

Time and space have always posed a threat to all creative artists. To move with time is the easiest way. To move back and forth is also not impossible. But to be timeless and space less- this is the real challenge. Yet any artist worthy of his vocation has in one way or another tried to resolve this riddle. How far he has succeeded is the real test of his genius. It does not simply mean neglecting the concept of linear time. Rather, it is all about a timeless and universal appeal of the human element the work contains.

The author of The God of Small Things is, at the very outset it is clear, very keen on not being held up by the question of time. The novel is set in a timeless and, one dares suggest, spaceless dimension. The subtle irony in the introduction of the time element should not be missed. It all began with the arrival of Sophie Mol at Aymenen- that is, `for all practical purposes, in a hopelessly practical world'. Why should a writer who is basically pre-occupied with things other than purely practical make such a clear-cut beginning for the human drama she is about to unfold?. The reason soon becomes clear when she mentions another way of looking at the time factor. It is as old as when the Love Laws were written. That is, who should love and how. And how much.

Estha and Rahel, the two-egg twins of an unhappy marriage of Ammu's at Calcutta are eight when it all began and thirty one when the drama is done- the same age when Ammu died. Not old, not young `a viable die-able age'. Baby Kochamma too has to tell the story of a lost love with the Irish Priest Father Mulligan, which never came to anything more than a far away and distant dream. Her aborted attempts to tie herself to him ended in a stern vow...

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...rtgaged eye. Even beyond them there is the entire legacy of untouchability as old as Manu, the legendary founder of caste-and-creed laws. Those are the bigger gods in front of whom Velutha, the god of small things, of loss, stands no chance. His liquidation is history which repeats itself time and again, regardless of time, regardless of place. The mangled shape of Velutha after the clinical assault is reminiscent of the surrealistic vision Marlowe has of the shapes of the starved natives huddled together outside the Customs House in Heart of Darkness. Velutha is the sacrificial lamb, the sparrow caught in the snares of Chacko's old Plymouth: way in, no way out, dead on the back seat, with legs in the air, like a joke. The History House remains with shut doors and open windows, till it is metamorphosed into a hotel, thanks to the Tourism Development Department.