Do you remember reading Gulliver’s Travels as a child and marvelling at his fantastical adventures in the wondrous land of the Lilliputs? Even today, the book is regarded as one of the greatest children’s classics ever to be written. Did you ever stop to wonder how this very adult book, which talks about serious socio-political issues of its age, came to be included in this list? Reading Cordis Paldano’s debut novel The Dwarf, the Girl and the Holy Goat made me wonder about this anew.
Only this time, the case runs in the reverse direction. This 176-page book has been in fact written for children, that too for readers between the ages of eight and twelve. But set out on the adventures with Charlie (the “Dwarf”), Inaya (the “Girl”) and Munni (the “Holy Goat”), and you will know what I am saying.
Dangling dangerously from the trapeze of the Great Royal Circus (that is where the story begins and ends) with his controversial critique, the author manages to balance out his act pretty proficiently. From pirouetting through the atmosphere of the growing politics of hate, through hanging upside down from grave debates around sacred animals and meat-bans, to finally flying in the air in search for a world where all are treated as equals, Paldano’s novel has enough fodder to takeaway, chew on and muse – be it as a child or an adult.
How the dwarf meets the girl
Tucked away in the cramped alleys of the impoverished Moon Colony, Inaya and her mother have woven together a happy home, if not a comfortable one. There is no father. In fact, all the “tall, strong adult” men introduced in the novel are either crooks or inefficient. It is a world of the “othered”.
Into this haven enters a small little goat, with “hair as smooth as silk and white as milk”. The initial plan is to raise the goat and sell it off at a decent price, but the inseparable bond that Inaya builds up with it (Munni is her name for the goat) makes the mother reconsider her decision.
All is well till the mother starts coughing blood and has to be shifted to a hospital. Of course, it is a dirty and overcrowded government hospital where all the services are provided free to poor people like Inaya, but there are always those who know how to exploit the system. This is what happens when the head nurse enters the picture, refusing to continue treatment unless given a fat bribe. Having no other alternative, Inaya decides to sell off Munni.
Incidentally, anything to do with the holy goat can go south in a matter of seconds in this country, especially if people from the Moon Colony are found to be involved. According to the stories spread by hate-mongers, it is a colony full of “goat-eaters”. Inaya gets caught in this quagmire when Munni is confiscated by a powerful policeman, who is later revealed to have ulterior motives. Defeated by life, Inaya sits down on the pavement, crying her heart out. This is how Charlie finds her and thus begins all the adventure.
Charlie, a circus clown, is a kind soul. Inaya’s tears act as a catalyst for him and he immediately decides to set out with the girl in order to rescue her goat and help her mother. Through a series of events it is disclosed how the Moon Colony has become a “scapegoat” in Pencil sahib’s (a small-time stationery salesman turned corrupt politician) latest election campaign, whereby Munni has unwittingly become the mascot.
The Bakra Boys, goons working for Pencil, have been given the responsibility of killing Munni and using this to spread more hatred. What follows is a rescue mission, fraught with risks and dangers.
Children’s literature and the subject of suitability
The happy ending, however, is not as important as the way the end is reached. In fifteen short chapters, it is interesting how Paldano manages to touch upon some of the most leading discourses of the day while staying close to the narrative but without sounding too preachy. We have gender, caste, class, communalism, disability, religious and political fundamentalism, war and violence, as well as animal rights. A text with all these elements can easily run the risk of sounding too forced.
Miraculously, Paldano manages to transcend this and attain an organic synthesis. The incident leading up to Pencil’s final debacle does seem a bit rushed and conveniently arranged, but that can be easily overlooked given how the novel manages to accomplish the rest.
The novel is alive with action –– you don’t read the book but you watch it being performed. Perhaps, this has to do with Paldano’s experiences as a theatre artist. It also manages to convey complex ideas in the most lucid fashion. The narrative will be suddenly invaded by stereotypes only to be dismantled and put into place the very next minute.
It is also remarkable how the author plays with double-meaning. He gets away with an entire Bakra Anthem by giving us the clown’s parodic version, which can only hint at the sordidness of the original but not give one enough scope for retaliation.
Finally, it is a breath of fresh air to find a voice that does not worry a lot about the question of “how much is too much for children?” In a genre, dominated by adults fussing over what is suitable and what is not – choices that might be driven by their inherent biases against which the child doesn’t have any filter – it is liberating to find someone who does not shy away from treating a child as an equal who has as much right to these stories as anyone else.
The Dwarf, the Girl and the Holy Goat, Cordis Paldano, Hachette India.
