Book- THEFT
Author- Abdulrazak Gurnah
Publishers- Bloomsbury
Price- Rs 699
Ever since the Swedish Academy cited Abdulrazak Gurnah’s “uncompromising and compassionate penetration of the effects of colonialism and the fate of the refugee in the gulf between cultures and continents” as reasons for awarding him the 2021 Nobel prize for literature, it has become commonplace for critics to look for the themes of migration and exile in Gurnah’s writing. Importantly, in his acceptance lecture, Gurnah had reminded that “writing cannot be just about battling and polemics” and had argued that the real power of writing lay in highlighting what “the hard domineering eye cannot see, what makes people, apparently small in stature, feel assured in themselves regardless of the disdain of others.” In his latest novel, Theft, Gurnah traverses a significant part of Zanzibar’s postcolonial history, from the tumultuous Sixties to the neo-liberal Nineties, to uncover the social effects of violence and opportunity inscribed in the intersection of race and place. But Gurnah’s novelistic focus is less on the transforming “effects of colonialism” and more on how ordinary people, who are “apparently small in stature”, can square their shoulders in the disdainful faces of “others”.
Theft explores the changing lives of Badar, Karim and Fauzia, three characters whose material and metaphorical destinies interlock with one another. Son of a worthless father and unknown mother, Badar is not quite fourteen when he is “cast adrift” and transported and transformed into a servant “boi” in a prosperous household. Contrarily, Karim, also a son of a worthless father and an indifferent mother, has ready opportunities and privileges because of his fortunate circumstances. Reared in a still different milieu, Fauzia’s endeavours at totalising her intellectual and emotional lives are forever imperilled by her inherited medicalised fears and vulnerabilities. Arguably then, in terms of trajectory, Karim’s cushioned authority and aspirations seem best placed at countering
the Conradian epigraph with which the novel begins, “In a general way it’s very difficult for one to become remarkable.” But Theft does not offer a linear tale of fulfilment in success and it shows that becoming ‘remarkable’ is difficult since the possibilities of hope and happiness are often enveloped by the emotional heft and the gloom emanating from multiple plots of thefts and stolen lives.
A skilfully told tale, Theft displays Gurnah’s literary strengths in using perspectives or points of view and in strategically deploying narrative disclosures. For instance, towards the end of the novel, when Karim fumes at Badar and asks, “What have you learned in your life, you useless wanker?”, Badar’s response, “I have learned to endure”, is shared with the reader, and not with Karim who delusionally imagines that he alone is Badar’s benefactor. Likewise, just when the reader is lulled into believing that nothing can change Badar’s life, the old gardener reminds, “Many things happened. That’s how it is in life, many things happen.” Similarly, the narrative voice suddenly breaks the textual quietude with an unexpected declaration — “Then everything happened at once.” In short, given the literary complexities, Gurnah’s reader cannot be the all-knowing proverbial secret-sharer of the tale.
In terms of thematics, Theft offers a refreshing perspective on the postcolonial issues of exile and migration arising out of imperial plunder or postcolonial chaos. It is worth noting that Gurnah’s analysis of the unsavoriness underlying Zanzibar’s neoliberal reality is not written from the standpoint of nostalgia or loss; rather, the novel makes it clear that Fauzia’s mother’s angry denunciation of tourism and voluntarism is a point of view which is not necessarily shared by all as parts of the local populace have benefitted from these industries. This is not to say that everything is fine about such ventures and the novel underscores the need to go beyond the easy lens of acquiescence or rejection while addressing the gap between culture and economy. In this regard, Gurnah’s deliberate usage of unitalicised Kiswahili words and phrases is important as it shows how awareness and belonging can be built through mixing languages.
As a coming-of-age novel, Theft demonstrates that the pains of growing up during adolescence are not only about sexual volatility, a topic that is being hotly debated today, but also those which emerge from social inequalities, discriminations and oppressions. Since the novel provides numerous details about Badar’s skivvying life, his story of emancipation from domestic servitude is particularly relevant for Indian readers who are familiar with a variety of exploitative models underlying domestic work and labour practices. However, because Badar’s story equally critiques the complex and knotty nature of the patron-debtor relationship that develops between Karim and him, it becomes difficult to imagine how such a relation can play out within the brutal realities of caste and other barriers in an Indian setting. While one may agree that Badar’s endurance is his strength, but can his hopeful tale of happiness at the close of the novel be easily recreated here in India? One can only hope so.