Thinking Activity on Anthropocene: The Human Epoch

Hello, this blog is written as part of a Thinking Activity assigned by Dilip Sir. In it, I will explore the key ideas of Anthropocene: The Human Epoch. For further details, click here.

 Thinking Activity on Anthropocene: The Human Epoch

Defining the Epoch:

Do you think the Anthropocene deserves recognition as a distinct geological epoch? Why or why not, and what are the implications of such a formal designation? 

Ans.

After watching Anthropocene: The Human Epoch, I do think the Anthropocene should be called a separate geological epoch. The film clearly shows how human actions—like mining, cutting forests, building huge cities, and spreading plastic everywhere—have changed the Earth in a big way. These changes are not small or temporary; they will stay on the planet for thousands of years. No other time in history has been shaped so strongly by humans, so it makes sense to call it by a new name. If scientists officially recognize it, it will remind people that humans are not just living on Earth but actually changing it. For me, this title feels like both a warning and a responsibility. It tells us that the future of the Earth depends on how we act now.  

How does naming an epoch after humans change the way we perceive our role in Earth’s history and our responsibilities towards it?

Ans.
When we call this time the “Anthropocene,” it makes us see ourselves not just as people living on Earth but as a force that shapes the planet itself. In earlier times, humans were seen as small compared to nature, but now the name shows that we are powerful enough to change climates, landscapes, and even the future of life on Earth. This can be both scary and eye-opening. It means our actions—like using too much plastic, cutting trees, or burning fuels—are not only local problems but global ones that will leave marks for thousands of years. At the same time, the name also gives us a responsibility. If we have the power to damage Earth, we also have the power to protect it. So, the word “Anthropocene” reminds us that we are not just living through history; we are creating it, and we must choose wisely how to shape it.   

Aesthetics and Ethics: 

The film presents destruction in ways that are visually stunning. Does aestheticising devastation risk normalising it, or can beauty be a tool for deeper ethical reflection and engagement in an eco-critical context? 

Ans.

Showing destruction in a beautiful way can be dangerous because it may make people accept it as normal, like turning tragedy into mere entertainment. If viewers only admire the colours, music, or special effects, they might forget the real pain or danger behind the scene. But beauty can also work the other way. By making devastation visually powerful, the film can hold the audience’s attention and force them to reflect more deeply. Instead of looking away from difficult truths, beauty draws us closer, helping us feel the weight of the issue. In an eco-critical context, this means art and cinema can use beauty not to hide destruction but to make people engage with it emotionally and ethically. So, whether it normalises or challenges devastation depends on how the audience chooses to see it.   

How did you personally respond to the paradox of finding beauty in landscapes of ruin? What does this say about human perception and complicity?  

Ans.

My personal response was mixed. On one side, I felt disturbed that I could admire the colours, framing, or atmosphere of ruined landscapes when they represent loss and suffering. On the other side, I realised that beauty in ruin makes the destruction more striking and unforgettable. This paradox shows something about human perception: we are drawn to patterns, light, and form, even in tragedy. It also reveals a kind of complicity—we often consume images of crisis as art without fully engaging with the pain behind them. In an eco-critical sense, this suggests that our fascination with beauty can sometimes dull urgency, but it can also be a doorway to deeper awareness if we let the feeling of discomfort push us toward ethical reflection.

Human Creativity and Catastrophe: 

In  what  ways  does  the  film  suggest  that  human  creativity  and  ingenuity  are inseparable from ecological destruction?  Consider the engineering  marvels alongside the environmental costs.  

Ans.

The film shows that human creativity often comes with a double edge. Engineering marvels like dams, skyscrapers, or huge cities are celebrated as proof of human progress, but they also cause floods, pollution, and displacement. The same ingenuity that builds modern comforts also disrupts natural systems. In this way, the film suggests that human creativity and ecological destruction are tied together: invention brings both wonder and damage. The beauty of these achievements makes the costs easy to ignore, but the film reminds us that progress always carries hidden ecological consequences.

Can human  technological progress, as depicted in the film, be reoriented  towards sustaining, rather than exhausting, the planet? What inherent challenges does the film highlight in such a reorientation?   

Ans.

The film suggests that technology has the potential to be redirected toward sustainability, but it is not an easy shift. On one hand, the same creativity that built dams, power plants, and mega-cities could be used for renewable energy, green design, and ecological restoration. Human progress is not doomed to destruction—it can imagine alternatives. However, the film also shows deep challenges: people are addicted to consumption, governments and corporations seek profit, and large systems of industry are already locked into patterns of exploitation. This makes reorientation difficult because it requires not just new inventions, but also new values, lifestyles, and political will. The film highlights that the challenge is less about lack of technology and more about human priorities and the courage to change.

Philosophical and Postcolonial Reflections: 

If humans are now “geological agents,” does this grant us a god-like status or burden us  with  greater  humility  and  responsibility?  How  does  this  redefine  human exceptionalism? 

The idea of humans as “geological agents” means that our actions—burning fossil fuels, clearing forests, altering rivers, and changing the climate—are powerful enough to shape the Earth on a planetary scale. At first, this might look like a god-like status, since no other species has ever influenced the planet so drastically. However, the film suggests it is less a matter of divine power and more a heavy burden of responsibility. Instead of pride, it calls for humility, because our power has created crises we cannot fully control, like global warming and ecological collapse. This redefines human exceptionalism: it no longer means superiority over nature, but recognition that we are deeply entangled with it. To be “exceptional” now is not to dominate, but to accept responsibility for sustaining the planet we depend on.

Considering the locations chosen and omitted (e.g., the absence of India despite its significant  transformations),  what  implicit  narratives  about  global  power,  resource extraction,  and  environmental  responsibility  does  the  film  convey  or  neglect?  How might a postcolonial scholar interpret these choices? 

The film Anthropocene: The Human Epoch attempts to present a global survey of humanity’s planetary footprint, yet its cartography of destruction is partial. The absence of India—one of the fastest transforming landscapes in terms of urbanisation, mining, industrialisation, and climate vulnerability—is telling. Such choices reveal the film’s implicit narratives about global power, resource extraction, and environmental responsibility.

1. Selective Geography and Power Representation

The film predominantly showcases industrialised nations (Canada, Germany, China, Russia) and specific extractive zones in Africa and South America. By omitting India, the filmmakers implicitly sidestep one of the central sites of postcolonial modernity—where resource extraction, overpopulation, and environmental degradation intersect in visible, complex ways. This absence risks reproducing a Western gaze, where environmental catastrophe is either framed through technologically advanced nations or through “resource frontiers” of the Global South, but not through the hybrid, postcolonial present that India embodies.

2. Narratives of Responsibility and Blame

By foregrounding spectacular destruction in the Global North and selective “resource sacrifice zones” in the South, the film crafts an uneven narrative of responsibility. India’s absence potentially removes attention from the legacies of colonial extraction and the continued complicity of postcolonial states in global capitalism. For a postcolonial scholar, this erasure can be read as a refusal to acknowledge how colonial histories of exploitation have shaped the Anthropocene unevenly, with countries like India simultaneously victims of climate crisis and participants in extractive economies.

3. Postcolonial Interpretation: Silenced Voices

A postcolonial reading would emphasise that the Anthropocene is not a homogeneous human story, but one structured by power, inequality, and histories of domination. The absence of India reveals the persistence of what Dipesh Chakrabarty calls “provincialising the global”—universalising narratives that erase difference. India, as a postcolonial nation, embodies contradictions: a rising technological power, a site of massive ecological degradation, and a nation disproportionately vulnerable to climate catastrophe. Its omission underscores how the Anthropocene narrative can depoliticise environmental crisis by avoiding messy, uneven realities of global South modernities.

4. Global Power and the Coloniality of Nature

The omission also reflects what Walter Mignolo terms the “coloniality of power.” By privileging certain locations, the film aligns with a Euro-American framework of visibility, where sites of ecological ruin are curated for their aesthetic and symbolic resonance. Postcolonial scholars would argue that such representation reproduces hierarchies of knowledge and invisibilises the everyday ecological struggles of subaltern populations in India and other postcolonial nations.

Conclusion

The absence of India in Anthropocene: The Human Epoch is not a neutral gap but an ideological omission. A postcolonial scholar would read it as symptomatic of the film’s alignment with Western epistemologies of global change, which obscure colonial legacies and uneven vulnerabilities. By failing to represent India’s transformations, the film misses an opportunity to foreground how the Anthropocene is entangled with histories of empire, resource extraction, and postcolonial modernity.   

    

How might the Anthropocene challenge traditional human-centred philosophies in literature, ethics, or religion?

 The idea of humans as “geological agents” means that our actions—burning fossil fuels, cutting down forests, changing rivers, and warming the climate—are strong enough to reshape the Earth itself. At first, this might look like a god-like status, because no other species has had such power. But the film shows it is not about pride or superiority—it is a heavy burden of responsibility. Our power has led to problems like global warming and ecological collapse, which are beyond our full control. This changes the meaning of human exceptionalism: it no longer means ruling over nature, but realizing that we are deeply connected with it. To be “exceptional” now means not domination, but taking responsibility to protect and sustain the Earth that supports us.

Personal and Collective Responsibility: 

After watching the film, do you feel more empowered or more helpless in the face of environmental crises? What aspects of the film contribute to this feeling?

After watching the film, I feel more helpless in the face of environmental crises, because it shows how massive and irreversible some human impacts have become. The melting glaciers, rising sea levels, and destroyed habitats highlight that these problems are too big for individuals alone to solve. At the same time, the film gives a small sense of empowerment, because it reminds us that collective action, awareness, and responsibility can still make a difference. The strong visuals of destruction create a feeling of urgency and helplessness, while the hopeful messages about change and resilience contribute to empowerment.                    

What small, personal choices and larger, collective actions might help reshape our epoch in a more sustainable direction, as suggested (or not suggested) by the film?

 After watching the film, I feel that small personal choices like reducing waste, using less plastic, conserving energy, and eating more plant-based foods can make me feel responsible in daily life, though they often seem too minor against the scale of destruction shown. At the same time, the film suggests that larger collective actions such as international agreements, shifting to renewable energy, protecting forests, and demanding accountability from governments and corporations are essential for real change. This makes me feel both limited as an individual but also hopeful that when personal habits combine with collective movements, our epoch can still be reshaped in a more sustainable direction.                    

The Role of Art and Cinema: 

Compared  to scientific  reports or  news  articles, what  unique contribution  does a film  like  Anthropocene:  The  Human  Epoch  make  to  our  understanding  of environmental issues, especially for a literary audience?     

After watching the film, I feel that small personal choices like reducing waste, using less plastic, conserving energy, and eating more plant-based foods can make me feel responsible in daily life, though they often seem too minor against the scale of destruction shown. At the same time, the film suggests that larger collective actions such as international agreements, shifting to renewable energy, protecting forests, and demanding accountability from governments and corporations are essential for real change. This makes me feel both limited as an individual but also hopeful that when personal habits combine with collective movements, our epoch can still be reshaped in a more sustainable direction.                   

Can art play a transformative role in motivating ecological awareness and action, or does it merely provoke contemplation without leading to tangible change?

I think art can play a transformative role because it touches emotions in ways facts and numbers cannot. For example, films, paintings, and literature can make us feel the beauty of nature and the pain of its destruction, which often motivates people to care more deeply. However, sometimes art only makes us reflect for a while without changing our habits. So, its real impact depends on whether the feelings it creates are turned into action—like joining campaigns, changing lifestyles, or supporting environmental policies. In this way, art is powerful, but its influence becomes stronger when it inspires both thought and action.

References

Barad, Dilip. “ANTHROPOCENE: THE HUMAN EPOCH .” Researchgate, Aug. 2025, www.researchgate.net/publication/394943096_ANTHROPOCENE_THE_HUMAN_EPOCH_-A_CINEMATIC_MIRROR_FOR_ECO-CRITICAL_AND_POSTCOLONIAL_MINDS. Accessed 26 Aug. 2025. 

SR: Blog on a Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Talks

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Talks

Hello, this blog is written as part of a Sunday reading task assigned by Dilip Sir. In it, we will explore the key ideas shared by Chimamanda Adichie in her talks. For further details, click here.

Who is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie?

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (born September 15, 1977, in Enugu, Nigeria) is a celebrated Nigerian writer known for her incisive and influential contributions to contemporary literature. Her body of work—including novels, short stories, and nonfiction—explores themes such as feminism, postcolonialism, and identity. 

She is particularly regarded as one of the most influential voices in contemporary African literature and has been described by critics as a “global feminist icon.” 

Video 1 : Talk on importance of Story / Literature 

Introduction

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a renowned Nigerian novelist and storyteller, delivers her powerful TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story.” In this talk, she explores how stereotypes are formed when only one narrative about a people, culture, or place is repeated. Through personal anecdotes and cultural observations, Adichie warns us about the dangers of incomplete stories that shape perception and reinforce power imbalances.

Summary 

Adichie begins by sharing her childhood experience of reading only British and American books, which led her to believe that literature could not represent her own Nigerian reality. This shifted when she discovered African writers like Chinua Achebe. She illustrates the “single story” through examples: her childhood perception of her houseboy’s family as only poor, her American roommate’s narrow view of Africa as catastrophe, and her own biased assumptions about Mexicans. Adichie stresses that stories are tied to power and that the problem with stereotypes is not that they are false, but that they are incomplete.

Analysis

Adichie’s talk is effective because she uses storytelling as both method and message. By narrating personal experiences—childhood writing, her American roommate, and her trip to Mexico—she draws her audience into her world while illustrating the dangers of single narratives. Her tone is conversational, humorous, and reflective, which makes complex ideas accessible. Laughter is strategically used to disarm while reinforcing her critique of ignorance. She also frames her ideas through cultural contrasts—Africa seen as catastrophe, Nigeria reduced to poverty, Mexicans as illegal immigrants—showing how stories are shaped by historical and political power structures.

Reflection

Adichie’s talk resonates deeply in today’s globalized world where media often amplifies one-sided portrayals. As a student of literature, I see how texts can either reinforce or resist stereotypes. For example, colonial narratives often depicted Africans as “half devil, half child,” while postcolonial writers like Achebe corrected this imbalance. In society today, the “single story” persists through news headlines that define groups only by war, poverty, or crime. This talk challenges me to question whose voices are missing and to value multiple perspectives in understanding cultures, histories, and even individual identities.

Conclusion

Adichie leaves us with a crucial reminder: “Stories matter. Many stories matter.” The danger lies not in stereotypes being false, but in their incompleteness. By rejecting the single story, we restore dignity and embrace the fullness of human experience. The takeaway is simple yet profound—never settle for just one narrative. Instead, ask: Whose story have I not yet heard?

Video 2 : We Should All Be Feminist 

Video 3 : Talk on importance of Truth in Post-Truth Era

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

 The Reluctant Fundamentalist

A. Pre-Watching Activities 

1. Critical Reading & Reflection 

1.Read excerpts from Ania Loomba on the “New American Empire” and Michael Hardt & Antonio Negri’s Empire. How do these theories reframe globalization beyond the center–margin dichotomy?

Ans : Ania Loomba’s analysis of the New American Empire and Michael Hardt & Antonio Negri’s Empire collectively shift our understanding of globalization away from a simplistic, hierarchical center–margin model. Instead of seeing global dynamics as a unidirectional flow from dominant centers (the West) to passive peripheries (the Global South), these theories emphasize diffuse networks of power, deterritorialized authority, and hybrid identities.

1. Loomba’s “New American Empire”

Ania Loomba critiques postcolonial narratives that still rely on dated binaries—civilized vs. uncivilized, center vs. margin—and she highlights how the rise of a “New American Empire” complicates such binaries. In particular:

Post-9/11 globalization intensified the urgency of postcolonial critique, as the U.S. aggressively projected power not merely through overt territorial control, but through ideological, military, and cultural dominance—often operating equally across so-called centers and margins.

This imperialism is not a simple top-down imposition; it emerges through bilateral encounters, discourse, and cultural framing—making marginal positions both influenced by and complicit in the global system.

2. Hardt & Negri’s Empire

In Empire (2000), Hardt and Negri propose a transformative view of sovereignty and control:

They argue that contemporary global power no longer resides in fixed nation-states but in a decentered Empire: a network of transnational institutions, legal orders, corporations, and media that exercise power globally.

Empire operates by shaping subjects and managing affective flows across all territories—whether traditionally understood as center or periphery—thus collapsing hierarchical binaries.

Their subsequent works, Multitude (2004) and Commonwealth (2009), expand on how resistance emerges not just from the margins but within the global system itself, highlighting collective subjectivities and shared spaces of power and resistance.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

This reframed understanding of globalization enriches our reading of both the novel and film adaptation:

Changez operates within hybrid identities—educated at Princeton and working on Wall Street—embodying both center and margin.

His disillusionment shows how corporate and state forms of power converge across geographies.

The story becomes a reflection of a global network of influences, not a binary East-versus-West conflict.

Loomba’s framework helps us see how suspicion, mimicry, and mistrust are not peripheral phenomena but are shaped by engagement with Empire.

Hardt & Negri’s concept of Empire helps unpack the film’s visual metaphors that link religious fundamentalism and corporate fundamentalism, suggesting both are expressions of systemic power.

2.Reflect in 300-word responses: How might these frameworks illuminate The Reluctant Fundamentalist as a text about empire, hybridity, and post-9/11 geopolitics? 

Ans : 

Ania Loomba’s concept of the New American Empire and Hardt & Negri’s theory of Empire together reveal The Reluctant Fundamentalist as a narrative deeply embedded in global power networks rather than a simple East–West opposition. Loomba reminds us that post-9/11 politics intensified an already-existing imperial logic where the United States exerts ideological, military, and cultural influence far beyond territorial boundaries. Hardt & Negri further argue that power is deterritorialized and networked, sustained by corporations, media, and transnational law.

In Mohsin Hamid’s novel and Mira Nair’s film, Changez’s trajectory from Princeton and Wall Street to Lahore exemplifies this interconnected imperial web. His professional success at Underwood Samson situates him within the corporate “fundamentalism” of profit-maximization—a form of Empire that mirrors the rigidity of religious extremism. Post-9/11 suspicion and racial profiling disrupt his sense of belonging, revealing how imperial power operates even in the so-called centers of globalization.

Hybridity, as Bhabha theorizes, is central to Changez’s identity. He inhabits a “third space,” shaped by both Pakistani cultural roots and American elite institutions. This hybridity is not a harmonious blending but a site of tension, where mimicry of Western norms coexists with growing disillusionment. His relationship with Erica serves as a metaphor for the asymmetrical romance between the U.S. and its “others”—marked by longing, exoticization, and ultimate estrangement.

Barad’s discussion on globalization and postcolonial studies clarifies that such narratives must be read within broader systems of deterritorialized empire, where resistance and complicity coexist. Changez’s “reluctance” is not just toward terrorism but toward all absolutist ideologies—whether military, religious, or corporate. The text thus illuminates how post-9/11 geopolitics are shaped by overlapping empires, producing fractured identities and spaces for both compliance and resistance.

2. Contextual Research  

1.Investigate Hamid’s background and the timeline of writing the novel. Note how the 9/11 attacks reshaped his narrative.

Ans : 

Mohsin Hamid was born in Lahore, Pakistan, in 1971 and educated partly in the United States, attending Princeton University and later Harvard Law School. His career included work at the New York office of the corporate consultancy McKinsey & Company, giving him firsthand experience of elite corporate culture—an experience that deeply informs the character of Changez.

Hamid began drafting The Reluctant Fundamentalist in the late 1990s, before the September 11, 2001 attacks. His original focus was on a cross-cultural romance between a Pakistani man and an American woman, exploring themes of identity, alienation, and belonging. However, after 9/11, the geopolitical climate and cultural discourse shifted dramatically. As Ania Loomba’s notion of the “New American Empire” and Hardt & Negri’s Empire suggest, the attacks intensified global suspicion, racial profiling, and securitization—especially toward Muslim and South Asian identities.

Hamid rewrote the novel to embed this altered political reality. Changez’s personal disillusionment becomes inseparable from the larger post-9/11 environment: his Wall Street career is recast against the backdrop of a hyper-nationalist, security-obsessed America; his relationship with Erica becomes a metaphor for the fractured ties between the U.S. and the Muslim world. The narrative also adopts a dramatic monologue format, heightening ambiguity and reflecting the mutual mistrust characteristic of post-9/11 geopolitics.

This shift transformed the novel into a more overtly political and postcolonial text, interrogating not only terrorism and counter-terrorism but also the “fundamentalism” of global capitalism and imperial power. As Barad (2022) notes, such reconfigurations in storytelling align with the postcolonial urgency to challenge monolithic global narratives and expose the complex, hybrid identities shaped by deterritorialized Empire.

2.Write a short summary (150 words): What is the significance of Hamid having begun the novel before 9/11 but completing it thereafter? 

Ans : 

 

Mohsin Hamid began drafting The Reluctant Fundamentalist in the late 1990s, originally focusing on a cross-cultural love story exploring identity and belonging. However, the September 11, 2001 attacks radically altered the global political and cultural climate, especially for Muslim and South Asian identities in the West. In response, Hamid rewrote the novel to reflect this shift, embedding themes of post-9/11 suspicion, racial profiling, and the politics of the “War on Terror.” The protagonist, Changez, now embodies both the allure and alienation of globalization—thriving in the corporate world yet disillusioned by its moral emptiness. By starting pre-9/11 and finishing post-9/11, Hamid captured a world in transition, where personal relationships and global geopolitics became deeply entangled. This transformation gave the novel its political edge, enabling it to interrogate not just religious extremism but also the “fundamentalism” of corporate capitalism and deterritorialized empire.

B. While-Watching Activities 

1. Character Conflicts & Themes 

1.Father/son or generational split: Observe how corporate modernity (Changez at Underwood Samson) clashes with poetic-rooted values—though more implicit, think via symbolism or narrative tension.

Ans : 

In both Mohsin Hamid’s novel and Mira Nair’s adaptation, the generational split is subtly expressed through the tension between corporate modernity and poetic-rooted cultural values. Changez’s career at Underwood Samson represents the Empire’s corporate fundamentalism—profit maximization, efficiency, and global market dominance (Hardt & Negri, 2000; Stiglitz, 2002). This world values analytical detachment and instrumental logic, stripping life of emotional or cultural resonance.

By contrast, Changez’s father, a man of literary taste and refined aesthetic sensibilities, embodies the poetic, humanist values of Lahore’s intellectual tradition. He resists the lure of material wealth, viewing dignity and cultural heritage as markers of a meaningful life. Ania Loomba’s postcolonial framework helps explain this as a resistance to the “New American Empire,” where global capitalism erodes local identities.

The symbolism is implicit: Changez’s expensive suits and corporate success in New York contrast with his father’s modest lifestyle and poetry-filled home. Istanbul becomes a cinematic metaphor—its layered history and cultural hybridity challenge the monoculture of Wall Street. The film emphasizes these contrasts visually: warm, earthy tones in Lahore and Istanbul versus the cold, sterile palette of New York’s corporate interiors.

This generational tension also mirrors a larger postcolonial split: younger elites drawn into the Empire’s networks, and older generations grounded in cultural memory and skepticism toward Western modernity (Barad, 2022). Changez’s eventual rejection of corporate life signals a return to his father’s values, blending them with his own post-9/11 political awakening.

Thus, the father–son dynamic, while understated, is central to the narrative’s critique of globalization. It frames Changez’s journey as not only personal but emblematic of a postcolonial subject negotiating between the seductions of global capital and the pull of cultural rootedness.

ThAct: Midnight's Children

Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

This blog is created as part of the thinking activity on Midnight’s Children, guided by Dr. Dilip Barad Sir.

Video 1: Characters |

Midnight's Children

Characters of Midnight’s Children

Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children has a large cast of characters, but each of them represents a symbolic aspect of India’s post-independence journey. The central narrator is Saleem Sinai, born exactly at midnight on 15 August 1947, the moment India became independent. His life is deeply connected to the nation’s history, and his special telepathic powers link him to hundreds of other “Midnight’s Children.” These children, all born in that magical first hour of independence, have unique abilities, symbolising the diversity and possibilities of the new nation.

Saleem’s life is shaped by a mix-up at birth. The nurse Mary Pereira, trying to help her lover, switches two newborn babies — Saleem, the child of a wealthy family, and Shiva, the child of a poor street entertainer. Saleem grows up in comfort but is not truly the Sinai’s biological son. Shiva, in contrast, grows up in poverty, but has incredible physical strength and becomes a soldier. Their fates represent the contrasts of post-independence India — privilege versus struggle, intellect versus brute force.

Other key characters include Parvati-the-Witch, a magical young woman who befriends Saleem and later marries him, giving birth to Aadam Sinai, fathered by Shiva. Parvati represents magic, hope, and resilience. Padma, Saleem’s listener, acts as the traditional sutradhaar (narrator’s companion) in Indian storytelling, questioning his account and keeping him grounded. Saleem’s grandparents, Dr. Aadam Aziz and Naseem Ghani, symbolise the clash between Western education and conservative traditions.

Through these characters, Rushdie blends personal and national history, showing how individuals carry the burden of political events, cultural change, and historical memory.

Key Points

Saleem Sinai – Narrator; born at midnight, has telepathy, symbolises India’s identity.

Shiva – Switched-at-birth; physical strength; represents aggression and military power.

Parvati-the-Witch – Magical powers; marries Saleem; mother of Aadam Sinai.

Aadam Sinai – Parvati and Shiva’s son, raised by Saleem; symbol of India’s future.

Mary Pereira – Nurse who switches babies; symbol of fate and guilt.

Padma – Saleem’s audience; traditional sutradhaar.

Dr. Aadam Aziz – Grandfather; symbolises modernity vs. tradition conflict.

Naseem Ghani – Grandmother; very traditional.

Learning outcome

I understand how Midnight’s Children uses magical realism and traditional Indian storytelling to connect personal lives with India’s post-independence history. I learn how characters like Saleem and Parvati represent social, political, and religious issues, and how events like the Partition and the Emergency of 1975 shape their journeys. I also see how the novel explores identity, freedom, and oppression, making me read it not just as a story but as a deep commentary on India’s postcolonial reality.

Film Screening—Deepa Mehta's Midnight's Children

This blog is created as part of the academic activity for Paper 202: Indian English Literature – Post-Independence, guided by Dr. Dilip Barad Sir. For more details, please refer to the course material. Click Here.

Film Screening—Deepa Mehta's Midnight's Children

1. Pre-viewing Activities

1. Who narrates history — the victors or the marginalized? How does this relate to
personal identity?  

Traditionally, history is often narrated by the victors — those in power who control the dominant narrative. This official history tends to emphasize their version of events, celebrating their triumphs and sidelining or silencing marginalized voices. Such a top-down approach to history usually presents a linear, singular story aligned with political or cultural hegemonies.

However, Midnight’s Children challenges this by foregrounding the marginalized narrator — Saleem Sinai, who represents a personal and fragmented perspective that counters the official histories of postcolonial India. Saleem’s narration reveals the gaps, silences, and contradictions left out by dominant narratives. His story blends personal memory with national history, showing how the past is subjective and multifaceted.

This shift in narration highlights that history is not monolithic; it can be reclaimed by the marginalized to reshape identity and collective memory. In postcolonial contexts, the act of narrating history becomes a political and cultural assertion against colonial and elite domination.

Relation to Personal Identity:

Saleem’s personal identity is deeply intertwined with the narration of history because:

He embodies the nation’s fractured identity — born at midnight of India’s independence, Saleem’s life symbolizes the hybrid, contested, and fragmented postcolonial identity.

His story shows how personal and national histories intersect; his identity is shaped by political upheaval (Partition, Emergency) and cultural dislocation.

By telling his own story, Saleem reclaims agency over his identity, resisting imposed narratives that try to categorize people strictly by religion, class, or politics.

This reflects the postcolonial theme that personal identity is constructed through multiple voices and histories, especially those marginalized by dominant discourse.

Summary:

History is often narrated by victors, but Midnight’s Children empowers the marginalized narrator.

This alternative narration reveals the complexity of history and identity.

Personal identity is linked to who controls the narrative, and marginalized voices can reclaim identity by telling their own stories.

Conclusion: 

In Midnight’s Children, history is reclaimed from the victors by a marginalized narrator, revealing hidden truths. This challenges dominant, official accounts and highlights multiple perspectives. Saleem’s personal identity is inseparable from the national story, showing how individual and collective histories shape each other. The film emphasizes that identity is complex, hybrid, and often fractured in postcolonial societies. Ultimately, narrating history becomes a powerful act of resistance and self-definition.

2.What makes a nation? Is it geography, governance, culture, or memory? 

A nation is not defined by a single element; rather, it is a complex construct shaped by multiple factors — geography, governance, culture, and collective memory.

From a political perspective, geography and governance create the framework of a nation: defined borders, political systems, and state institutions. However, from a postcolonial and cultural perspective, a nation exists as much in the minds of its people as in physical territory. Benedict Anderson calls this an “imagined community”, where members may never meet but share a sense of belonging.

In Midnight’s Children, the idea of the nation goes beyond physical boundaries. India’s identity is shown as fluid, hybrid, and contested — shaped by religious diversity, linguistic plurality, and historical traumas like Partition and the Emergency. For Saleem Sinai, the nation is not merely land or governance but also the collective memory of its people: their struggles, celebrations, and shared stories.

This makes culture and memory central — they bind people together across geography and political divisions. Yet, the film also questions whether a single, coherent national identity is possible in a postcolonial state where memory is fractured and identities are hybrid.

Summary Points

Geography: Gives physical borders but doesn’t guarantee unity.

Governance: Creates laws and order but may not represent all groups equally.

Culture: Shared traditions, language, and art unify people emotionally.

Memory: Collective experiences — even painful ones — shape identity.

In postcolonial contexts, memory and culture often outweigh geography and governance in truly defining the nation.

Conclusion

A nation is a blend of land, governance, shared culture, and collective memory. In Midnight’s Children, India’s nationhood is fluid, diverse, and often fragmented. Geography and governance provide structure, but culture and memory give meaning. Saleem’s story shows how personal memories mirror national history. Ultimately, a nation lives as much in its people’s shared imagination as in its physical borders.

3. Can language be colonized or decolonized? Think about English in India.

Language can be colonized when it is imposed by a dominant power as a tool of control, often replacing or marginalizing native languages. In colonial India, English became the language of administration, education, and law, intended to create a class of people aligned with colonial values. This imposition often carried cultural dominance, privileging English over local languages and shaping access to power.

However, language can also be decolonized through appropriation and transformation. Postcolonial thinkers argue that once a language is taken up by the colonized, it can be reshaped to reflect their own experiences, idioms, and cultural realities. In this sense, English in India has evolved far beyond its colonial origins. It is now a language spoken, written, and adapted by millions, infused with Indian vocabulary, rhythms, and cultural references.

This transformation reflects linguistic hybridity — the creation of a “third space” (Homi Bhabha) where language no longer belongs to the colonizer or colonized alone, but becomes a shared, adaptive medium. Thus, while language can be colonized, it can also be reclaimed and redefined by those who use it.

Conclusion

Language can be a tool of colonization, enforcing cultural and political dominance. In India, English was once such a tool under British rule. Over time, Indians have appropriated and reshaped it to fit local realities. This process turns a colonial language into a hybrid form of expression. Decolonizing language means making it serve the speaker’s identity rather than the colonizer’s authority.