There is still one sphere in the world now in which one can easily pass off darkness as light and light as darkness – and that is religion. The light of religion is not exactly clear, it's incomplete and hazy. Can that light show the way? Besides, has anyone ever received absolute light? And yet, why does the earth itself carry on with half daylight and half night?
Talashnama: The Quest, a hefty novel by Ismail Darbesh, is not just a work of fiction but a riveting picture of our times. It is an incisive exploration of the intricacies, internal divisions, diverse and disputed practices, power struggles, and reformist initiatives observed in Islam. But more than that, it is a contemplation of the radiance and darkness in religion, which after all can only take the form given to it by its practitioners.
The fossilisation of religion
The novel is populated with believers of all kinds. The erudite and enlightened Maruf is a beacon for a community shrouded in ignorance and stultified by illiteracy. Maulana Tahirul is a Muslim scholar who, despite delivering sermons as the imam, can lose sight of what is inherently fair. On the death of Hasan Ali, a communist with a kind disposition, he stubbornly refuses to say the funerary prayer because the deceased was an atheist. His scholarship makes him so pedantic that he fails to discharge his human obligation. Riziya is not overtly religious, but seems to have an intuitive grasp of the essence of Islam. Haider Bhai, an organiser at Tablighi Jamaat, has learnt prayers but lacks religious depth. During a forty-day spiritual retreat with members of the Tablighi Jamaat, Maruf notes in his diary that lack of contemplation has dulled religiosity. He bemoans the fossilisation of religion:
A movement for prayer – a religious movement. I support this movement. Because this is not merely a movement for prayer but the means to build the fundamental spine of a people. But that movement seems to have become a lot like a tradition, of observing some unchanging rules and principles devotedly. As if that observance implied the path to heaven.
Through its narrative technique, Talashnama creates a strong hook for the reader, who may otherwise find it taxing to read the book from cover to cover. The tragic climax of the novel is revealed at the beginning of the book (after a compelling Prelude).
The uncomfortable, unvarnished truth
We are told that the body of a man called Suman is lying in a morgue. He committed suicide, leaving behind his wife Riziya, aka Reena Nath, and daughter, Preeti. The widowed Riziya returns to her native village, Sadnahati, located in West Bengal. Sadnahati is inhabited mostly by Muslims except for the Hindus in the Jogipara hamlet. The meat of the story is in flashback. But then, the reader already knows what lies ahead. Wouldn’t that kill the motivation to keep turning the pages of this voluminous work?
Interestingly, it doesn’t. The creative risk pays off. You really want to know what forced the reflective, right-minded Suman to take his own life. Like all the other characters in the book, Suman is well-drawn and manages to pique your interest. The intelligent and plucky Riziya also wins your heart. You wonder how she will survive in Sadnahati, where she created a scandal by eloping with a Hindu man. It is only towards the end of the novel that the fog of mystery surrounding Suman’s death is lifted. As for Riziya, much is left to the imagination.
The 562-page book is more than just a labour of love; it is a testament to the political significance of art. This phenomenal debut novel by Ismail Darbesh was originally written in Bangla. It has been translated into English by V Ramaswamy with elegance. The translation, however, lacks finesse in places. It was underwhelming, if not unbelievable, to come across awkward expressions such as – “the sound struck at Riziya’s motherhood”, “fell into embarrassment”, “Tahir took his eyes away”, “lashed out with quite a battle cry”, “harbouring a hidden sense of humiliation”, “flared up in excitement”, “the intensity of all the upheaval of grievous weeping”, “that urge never dawned within Maruf”, “people rose in uproar”. Phrases like these often interrupt the flow of the narrative and threaten to overshadow the strengths of this otherwise magnificent book.
The novel is a literary representation of the multiple facets of our incredibly complex society: harmonious coexistence, interfaith bonds, the suppressed fears of the minorities, the dominance of the majority, a lurking fear of violence and, most crucially, the circulation and currency of notions like Love Jihad. In a heart-rending passage of the novel, an emotionally wrecked Suman thinks about the cruel absurdity of a divisive mindset:
He suddenly began to weep. … He dragged every religion into the ambit of his rage. … The priest at the Dakshineswar temple had got angry because he had married Riziya. Because, apparently, she was a mlechchha woman. Meanwhile, the Muslims were perturbed that Suman, a non-Muslim, had married a Muslim girl. Suman swore a lot, screaming that he had married a woman. Could any bastard distinguish in the darkness of night who was a Hindu and who Muslim! There was only a female body then. And love. Ardour. Which religion did that belong to?
As he plumbs the depths of despair, Suman speaks the uncomfortable, unvarnished truth. The onlookers dismiss him as a lunatic. Soon after, he ends his life. Suman seems to have held on to his sanity even in his last moments, refusing to close his eyes to the brute reality of the world. I would let him have the final say: “Religion was nothing but humanity”.
Talashnama: The Quest, Ismail Darbesh, translated from the Bengali by V Ramaswamy, HarperCollins India.
