Indias of the Mind: Reading travel and perspective in Jhumpa Lahiris The Namesake and Amitav Ghoshs The

Shadow Lines.
Abstract: (Original Question: Discuss the significance of travel national and international in relation to perspective in contemporary Indian Literature.) This essay seeks to demonstrate the significance of travel, both national and international, in relation to perspective in two novels; Jhumpa Lahiris The Namesake and Amitav Ghoshs The Shadow Lines. The major argument of the essay is, in accordance with one of Salman Rushdies critical observations, that both writers utilise the trope of travel in order to explore various perspectives of important issues for postcolonial and diasporic Indian literature; namely, the diasporic self and identity in The Namesake, and nation in The Shadow Lines. Initially the essay is concerned with discussing Lahiris The Namesake and seeks to refute Aliki Varvoglis claim that the travel narrative is not central to the novel by demonstrating the significance of travel to one of Lahiris key themes and concerns perspectives of the diasporic self and identity. This is demonstrated through a consideration of both national and international travel and how they impact upon conceptions of identity and self for the novels diasporic characters. The essay then seeks to locate Amitav Ghoshs The Shadow Lines within the context of postcolonial counter-discourse and demonstrates how the author consequently attempts to promote certain perspectives of nation through this.

In his essay Imaginary Homelands, first published in his critical collection of the same title in 1991, Salman Rushdie wrote of literature as the business of finding new angles at which to enter reality, asserting, ultimately, that for the postcolonial and diasporic Indian writer, distance, our long geographical perspective, may provide us with such angles (Rushdie, 15). Rushdies statement is extremely useful in the consideration and close analysis of the significance of travel, both domestic and international, in relation to perspective in two such postcolonial and diasporic literatures of the last three decades; namely, Amitav Ghoshs The Shadow Lines of 1988, and Jhumpa Lahiris acclaimed bestseller The Namesake, first published in 2003. Indeed, in these works, the concept and trope of travel becomes, in Rushdies terms, an angle which both writers successfully avail of in their explorations of, and entrance into, the reality of postcolonial and diasporic Indian perspective. This manifests itself in the consideration of perspectives of nation in The Shadow Lines, and those of the diasporic self and identity in The Namesake. Ultimately, travel mediates and enhances these perspectives in the work of both Ghosh and Lahiri, utilising distance and geographical perspective in order to facilitate incisive literary discussion of important issues for contemporary Indian literature. The relevant entry in The Oxford English Dictionary defines perspective as the relation or proportion in which the parts of a subject are viewed by the mind; the aspect of a subject or matter as perceived from a particular mental point of view. Now only: a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; an individual point of view. Thus, this essay will be concerned with the discussion of the significance of travel in relation to particular points of view and attitudes, towards nation in The Shadow Lines, and self and identity in The Namesake, whilst demonstrating that travel is inextricably linked to perspective in both texts. In her book, Travel and Dislocation in Contemporary American Fiction, Aliki Varvogli claims that the travel narrativeis not central to Jhumpa Lahiris The Namesake (Varvogli, 135). However, if we consider Lahiris first novel closely, we will find that Varvoglis statement is not quite accurate. Indeed, the text is comprised of a sequence of travel and a series of journeys, effectively constituting and operating as the basis for the entire narrative, and essentially underpinning the novel as a whole. This can be demonstrated through a consideration of Lahiris significant and consistent use of the concept of travel in order to illustrate and present perspectives of diasporic self and identity throughout the book, a central concern of The Namesake. Indeed, this is seen through the ways in which travel alters identity and perspectives of the self and others in the text, particularly in national travel, and is perhaps most evident in travel by train, a recurring motif and mode of travel in the narrative. The most notable train journey in the novel, of course, and perhaps the most significant, is Ashokes tour on the 83 Up Howrah-Ranchi Express from Calcutta to Jamshedpur, to visit his ailing grandfather. Indeed, Ashokes perspective is altered on this journey, both by Ghosh and his advocacy of travel, and by the physical experience of the train journey and the eventual crash itself. Consequently, throughout his recovery, Ashoke thought often of Ghosh and began to envision another sort of future. He imagined not only walking, but walking away, as far as he could from the place in which he was born, and in which he had nearly died (Lahiri, 20). Thus, Ashokes experience on the train forms the basis for the events of the entire novel and alters his perspective on life, which leads to his eventual emigration, another experience of travel, which, in turn, alters his perspective of himself further, as he is forced to assume a diasporic identity. Moreover, his perspective is so altered by this experience of travel that it continues to haunt him and mediate his perspectives until

the birth of his son. However, it should also be acknowledged that the impact of travel on perspective in the novel has widespread implications throughout the narrative, as the events of the crash play a constitutive role in the construction of Gogols identity, in that it is how he receives his name, something that troubles him throughout his life and is extremely significant in Gogols fraught perspective of his own identity. It is no coincidence, then, that it is while travelling in a car with his father that Gogol arrives at the knowledge of the significance of his name. Additionally, however, this mini-episode of travel culminates in a revelation that extends to altering Gogols perspective of the identity of his father, as he suddenly realises Ashoke as a stranger, a man who has kept a secret, has survived a tragedy, a man whose past he does not fully know. A man who is vulnerable, who has suffered in an inconceivable way (Lahiri, 124). Thus, as Christopher Ruddy has noted, in the novel, train journeys become passages between worlds and lives, and the authors characters are rarely the same when they disembark (Ruddy, 18). This is further demonstrated in the events of the penultimate chapter, as Moushumi inadvertently confesses her infidelity to Gogol. Indeed, it had been on the trainthat he had learned of Moushumis affairthe moment that his marriage was effectively severed (Lahiri, 282). Gogol, then, boards the train, secure in his identity as a married man, with a perpetual, conjugal future, and gets off as a prospective, pending divorcee. This, in turn, forces him to reconsider his own perspective of himself and of his marriage to Moushumi, as he comes to realise that their union and failure was predicated upon diasporic identity in that they had both acted on the same impulsehad both sought comfort in each other, and in their shared world, perhaps for the sake of novelty, out of the fear that the world was slowly dying (Lahiri, 284). In addition to this, the train, and travel more generally, becomes a metaphorical microcosm for perspectives of experience. This is reflected in Gogols reaction to Moushumis revelation of the affair, as his first impulse had been to be as physically far from her as possible. But they were bound together, by the train (Lahiri, 282). Later, Gogol comes to realise that, just as they were physically bound together on the train, though their relationship had already ended, so their marriage, which functions as a kind of diasporic recreation of a private, intimate India, will remain a permanent part of him (Lahiri, 284). Here, then, travel reflects Gogols perspective not only of the lasting impact that his relationship with Moushumi will have on his identity on self, but also, implicitly, the inherent Indian sensibilities and identities that are complicit in his own identity. These instances also serve to identify travel as the site of revelation, as Gogols life is irrevocably changed by what he learns on both journeys, mediating perspectives of identity and self. Thus, we can say that trains, and the process of travel more generally, represents the fluidity of perspectives of diasporic identity and self. Throughout the novel, national travel reflects the more personal and character-specific perspectives of identity and self. However, the fluidity of the perspective of identity and self is also present in international travel throughout the novel, and is useful in exploring the more general and common aspects of diasporic perspective and is perhaps most notable in the characters of Ashima, Moushumi, and, to a lesser extent, Gogol himself. Indeed, in one of the, relatively brief, glimpses we are afforded into the domestic elements of the Gangulis visit to their ancestral home in India, travel is clearly shown to mediate and enhance both Ashima and Ashokes perspective of themselves, while Sonia and Gogol look on: Within minutes, before their eyes Ashoke and Ashima slip into bolder,

less complicated versions of themselves, their voices louder, their smiles wider, revealing a confidence Gogol and Sonia never see on Pemberton Road. Im scared, Goggles, Sonia whispers to her brother in English, seeking his hand and refusing to let go (Lahiri, pp. 81 82). Thus, geography, or what we might call the end, or consequences, of travel, ultimately confers upon the Gangulis altered perspectives of themselves, perspectives that fluctuate depending on where they travel to, in this case explicitly contrasting India to Pemberton Road. However, it is also important to note that, here, Sonias perspective is also altered by the effects of travel, as she realises and responds to unfamiliar, new perspectives of the identity of her parents, which are mediated through their journey to India. Accordingly, she clings to Gogol for support, the one her perspective of whom has not been altered. This notion is further substantiated by subsequent statements later in the chapter, as travel is also shown to alter Gogols perspective of his mother, in addition to Ashimas perspective of her own identity and self: His mother shops in New Market and goes to movies and sees her old school friends. For eight months she does not set foot in a kitchen. She wanders freely around a city in which Gogol, in spite of his many visits, has no sense of direction (Lahiri, 83). Thus, the temporary nature of this particular sequence of travel represents both a recovery of Ashimas perspective of her original self, as she reestablishes old connections; and the relief of her diasporic perspective of herself, as she casts off cultural discomforts and her constrained, even gendered role at Pemberton Road. Indeed, this description of Ashima, from her sons perspective, is in stark contrast to the identity of the Ashima of small-town America, the woman who is immobile since she cannot drive, who shops silently in uniform, foreign stores, who ultimately must exchange labour and domestic preparation for the company of friends at her American home. Thus, in addition to demonstrating the fluidity of perspective of the self as a consequence of travel, these scenes also illustrate the perspective of the empowerment of the self, depending on the location travelled to. Indeed, here, power roles have been reversed by travel. In Calcutta, Gogol and Sonia, the American children who, for so much of the novel, have a kind of power conferred upon them by the security they feel in their American surroundings, in contrast to their parents, are made to feel uncomfortable, disorientated, and even scared by their new perspective of their parents in India, and their disempowerment by travel, while Ashoke and Ashima, in contrast, are enabled. It should also be acknowledged that, in this instance, Gogols inability to successfully navigate Calcutta represents his inability to navigate his Indian heritage. Indeed, it is not until his perspective is further developed by travel that he is able to do so, as we shall appreciate shortly. Furthermore, travel ultimately becomes a kind of liberation for Ashima from the enclosed, ethnic, and gendered space of the suburban family home at the books end. Moreover in the novels final pages, Ashima recognises that travel has altered her perspective of herself: It occurs to Ashima that the next time she will be by herself, she will be travelling, sitting on the plane. For the first time since her flight to meet her husband in Cambridge, in the winter of 1967, she will make the journey entirely on her own. The prospect no longer terrifies her. She has

learned to do things on her own, and though she still wears saris, still puts her long hair in a bun, she is not the same Ashima who had once lived in Calcutta (Lahiri, 276). Thus, travel is shown to relieve Ashimas often troubled, constrained perspective of herself, and confers upon her the possibility of embracing a dual perspective of her identity, in that she finally reconciles the two disparate perspectives of herself native and diasporic as she decides to divide her time between America and India. Ashimas assertion that she will be without borders, without a home of her own, a resident of everywhere and nowhere (Lahiri, 276), then, qualifies Aliki Varvoglis affirmation that the decision to have two homes on two different continents is an indication of the novels rejection of fixed identities (Varvogli, pp. 132 133), a textual affirmation that, importantly, concludes the narrative, and demonstrates the capacity of travel to alter perspectives of identity and self. However, it should also be acknowledged that Ashimas decision to sell the house at Pemberton Road and travel also alters Gogols perspective on his own identity, in that it represents something of a loss, and a kind of severing for him. Indeed, Gogols American identity that he so cherishes is, in effect, predicated upon the events and people that are associated with the family home, a kind of conceptualized India or desh, from which he has never been more than a four-hour train ride away (Lahiri, 281). The loss of the space against which he has defined himself, effected by Ashimas travel, forces him to reconsider his identity at the novels end, an event symbolically demonstrated by his reclamation of the book of Gogols stories that his Father once gave him. Thus, as Aliki Varvogli states, it is only with the selling of his mothers houseand departure that he understands how the more private identity associated with the family home has been instrumental in shaping his character and sense of self (Varvogli, 133). Moreover, international travel to France with Moushumi also alters his perspective of his parents: Here Moushumi had reinvented herselfHe admires her, even resents her a little, for having moved to another country and made a separate life. He realises that this is what their parents had done in America. What he, in all likelihood, will never do (Lahiri, 233). The fluidity of perspectives of identity and self through travel can also be demonstrated in the circumstances that inform the character of Moushumi, and are perhaps best demonstrated in relation to her failed engagement with Graham in the novel. Indeed, it is important to recognise that it is on a trip to her familys homeland before their prospective wedding, to Calcutta, that Grahams perspective of Moushumis background is altered. This constitutive element of Moushumis diasporic self, which before he might have regarded merely as an exotic or novel feature of her identity, troubles Graham, and mediates a change in his perspective of her. Unsurprisingly, it is back in New York that Moushumi hears Graham talking about their time in Calcutta (Lahiri, 217), an event which, as Aliki Varvogli recognises, makes Moushumi feel more Indian, thus implicating journeys and travelin the formation and sustaining of identities (Varvogli, 135). Moushumi and Grahams journey to India, then, and the consequences therein, serves to subvert Moushumis conception and perspective of her own American identity, and alters Grahams and her own perspective of her diasporic identity and self, thus illustrating the fluidity of the perspective of the self present in the concept of travel in The

Namesake. The consequences of her journey with Graham are ultimately compounded later in the novel, as Moushumi subsequently reneges on her assertions to herself to resist maternally recommended relationships and marriages to other diasporic Indians, and eventually accepts Gogols proposal, though not before she travels to France in order to recover. Thus, with the dissolution of one identity, Moushumi travels again to create another. Although the demands of brevity necessitate that we curtail the discussion here, we might also consider the Gangulis as tourists in India, Gogol and Moushumi in France, and conceptual travel, amongst other things as additional supporting material in order to demonstrate the relation of travel to perspective in the novel. Travel is also significant in Amitav Ghoshs novel, The Shadow Lines. Indeed, in her essay Postcolonial Identity and Gender Boundaries in Amitav Ghoshs The Shadow Lines, Padmini Mongia noted the critical possibilities raised by considering Ghoshs novelas a writing back to colonial discourse and as a response, in part, to earlier universalizing Western texts of English colonial writers (Mongia, 225). If we extend this notion further and attempt to locate Ghoshs The Shadow Lines, it is to be hoped not too tenuously, in the context of what Helen Tiffin has described as postcolonial counter-discourse, we will be able to appreciate how the concept of travel mediates and enhances the perspective of nation in the novel, in relation to postcolonial concerns. Indeed, in her important essay PostColonial Literatures and Counter-Discourse Helen Tiffin claimed that it has been the project of post-colonial writing to interrogate such issues from a privileged position within (and between) two worlds, stating that post-colonial subversion and appropriation of the dominant European discoursesrather than the construction or reconstruction of the essentially nationalare what is characteristic of post-colonial texts (Tiffin, 99). This can be well demonstrated through illustrating the significance of travel in The Shadow Lines in relation to the perspective of nation. However, it should also be acknowledged that travel and perspective are not as central to the narrative of The Shadow Lines, or as prominent as they have proven to be in The Namesake. Indeed, we might even regard them as being secondary thematic issues. Nonetheless, it is important to recognise that the structure of Ghoshs novel relies heavily on its employment of the concept of travel in that the novel is divided into two parts, Going Away and Coming Home, while the narrative itself is divided between the physical settings of Calcutta, Dhaka, and London. We should also note that the travel which occurs in the novel reflects the discourse with which the text involves itself, as, with India at the centre, the novel raises the issue of Indias postcolonial relationships with England and Pakistan, both past and present. Thus, travel operates as the basis for introducing thematic perspectives of nation. Moreover, it is through travel that Ghosh is able to situate The Shadow Lines in postcolonial counter-discourse and, subsequently, render perspectives of nation to the reader. This can be demonstrated by considering the opening line of the novel: In 1939, thirteen years before I was born, my fathers aunt, Mayadebi, went to England with her husband and son, Tridib (Ghosh, 3). This opening line is significant as, in addition to creating and highlighting the important precedent of travel at the outset of the novel, it also engages in a form of intertextual counter-discourse. Typically, of course, the colonial text depicts the westerners or colonizers as travelling to an exotic India to observe the novelties of its culture and the work of imperialism. In this instance, however, the normal sequence

of relative travel is subverted, as the Indians become the travellers who visit the western country, embarking on what Robert Dixon has, in a novel turn of phrase, described as an Indian passage to England (Dixon, 18). Moreover, it is also important to recognise the date on which this journey takes place. Although this initial sequence of travel occurs before Indian independence and partition with Pakistan, it should also be recognised that Tridib and his family are going to England in 1939, the year in which Europe erupted into war. Thus, as Dixon acknowledges, classical ethnography assumes that the culture of the Western observer is a stable and coherent point from which to observe native society. Ghosh undermines this notion by depicting Britain at war with Germany, so that Partition takes place against the background of an equally unstable Europe (Dixon, 18). Thus, at the outset of the narrative Ghosh seeks to reconcile colonial perspectives of nation with the postcolonial by drawing a clear parallel between India and England. Indeed, the implication is that violence in India is not the primal violence of an uncivilized nation, or, if it is, it is no worse than the events unfolding in Europe. Thus, Ghosh seeks to render the perspective of the postcolonial nation as being comparable to its former colonizers, through the trope of travel. However, we should also recognise that, by subverting these views and involving the novel in counter-discourse, Ghosh simultaneously destabilizes established perspectives of nation, which creates a precedent for the rest of the text. However, if we extend this argument further, we can see that Ghosh, then, has not only appropriated and subverted typical colonial discourse by having his characters travel to England, but, by extension, we must also recognise that he has appropriated the genre of the novel, the English language; the employment of which is a traditionally contentious issue in Indian literary circles; and even the title of his novel. Indeed, Ghoshs novel plays on Joseph Conrads serialized 1916 novel The Shadow Line in which a young sea captain takes up a post in the Orient and crosses the shadow line into maturity. Although Conrads own relationship to Britain is fraught with complexities, it should be stated that Ghoshs appropriation of Conrads title still represents an instance of counter-discourse because of the formers plot. Moreover, the revised plurality of Ghoshs title extends its attentions to a dual consideration, while the novel is peopled by characters who travel between the worlds of England and India, in actual and symbolic terms (Shukla, 150). Thus, the construction of the narrative and the discourse in which it involves itself with, even before we consider anything specifically textual, demonstrates Ghoshs use of the trope of travel to convey a certain, destabilized perspective of nation. Indeed, Sandhya Rajendra Shukla views the novels structure as being self-consciously concerned with travel, moving throughout a number of sites at home and abroad, and its content comes to terms with contemporary theoretical questions having to do with nationalism and post-nationalism (Shukla, 150). These theoretical questions relating to the perspectives of nation through travel particularly manifest themselves in two key ways. The first is the scene in which Thamma travels to Dhaka and attempts to bring home Jethamoshai and the second is in the implicit contrast drawn between Thamma and Ila throughout the narrative. Indeed, Thammas travel to her former home in Dhaka raises important questions about the perspective of nation and what the nation should be, and how it might be conceptualized. Ultimately, Ghosh poses the question, what is the established form of the nation? However, rather than offering a straightforward answer to these questions, the author merely demonstrates the fallibility of perspectives of nation, through travel, raising debate. Ultimately, then, travel is the

site for contesting perspectives of nation in the novel, and serves to illustrate the instability of such perspectives. Indeed, as Thamma initially flies to Pakistan from India, she looks out of the airplane and is baffled by the lack of a physical border or line: But if there arent any trenches or anything, how are people to know? I mean, wheres the difference then? And if theres no difference, both sides will be the same; itll be just like it used to be before, when we used to catch a train in Dhaka and get off in Calcutta the next day without anybody stopping us. What was it all for then partition and all the killing and everything if there isnt something in between? (Ghosh, 186) Thus, Thammas perspective of the nation as a purely physical entity is destabilized as she realises that the reality of the border cannot be a long black line with green one side and scarlet on the other, like it was in a school atlas (Ghosh, 185). It is also important to note that Ghosh blurs the lines between national and international travel as, for Thamma, the trip to Dhaka is ultimately national travel, through Tridib and the others are quick to point the reality by reminding her that you are a foreigner now, youre as foreign here as May (Ghosh, 239), which further destabilizes perspectives of nation. Moreover, it should also be acknowledged that, when they reach Jethamoshai, his ultimate refusal to travel is predicated upon his perspective of the instability of nation: I dont believe in this India-Shindia. Its all very well, youre going away now, but suppose when you get there they decide to draw another line somewhere? What will you do then? (Ghosh, 264) This is a hugely significant perspective of nation and important point in the narrative and, to some degree, invokes the common literary debate over how perspectives of the nation might be realised. This is perhaps most notably pursued in Salman Rushdies essay Does India exist? as the author questions what holds nation together. Thus, Thammas travel to Dhaka demonstrates perspectives of belonging and boundaries in relation to nation. We should also note perspectives of nation through travel in the contrast between Ila and Thamma. Indeed, the nameless narrator tells Thamma that Ila decided to travel to London only because she wanted to be free (Ghosh, 110) from cultural constraints in India, as she expresses in the scene in a Calcutta disco. Thus, Ilas perspective is that she can obtain freedom through travel, and that exchanging nations, India for England, can endow her with freedom. Ultimately, however, this is undermined as Ila ends the novel imprisoned in an unfaithful marriage to the Englishman Nick, an arrangement with uncomfortable colonial overtones. However, when pressed to disclose Ilas thoughts on freedom to his grandmother, the narrator comes to realise that her perspective of freedom is also defined by her conception of nation: I should have known that she would have nothing but contempt for a freedom that could be bought for the price of an air ticket. For she too had once wanted to be free; she had dreamt of killing for her freedom (Ghosh, 110).

Indeed, later in this sequence, Thamma asserts, that is not what it means to be free (Ghosh, 110) as she claims that Ila does not belong in England, and rejects travel as an escape from nation. This sequence also brings their contrasting politics to the fore, as the narrator recalls his grandmothers nationalist impulses while in education. However, we should recognize that Thammas nationalism operates from a purely national perspective, in relation to India, while Ilas socialism in England is an international, cosmopolitan and ideological perspective, as she claims that people will look to their small movement in the future. Thus, the contrast that is drawn between Thamma and Ila, throughout the novel, as the two main female figures of disparate generations is significantly manifested in their perspectives of nation through travel which is demonstrated in subtle distinctions between the physical and conceptual, and begs the perpetual question what is nation? Therefore, in conclusion, it should be recognised that both Ghoshs The Shadow Lines and Lahiris The Namesake effectively utilise the trope and concept of travel in order to present perspectives of identity and self, and nation. Moreover, these texts, put together, provide an interesting overview of postcolonial Indian perspective, one operating from a national view, and the other from a diasporic international perspective. Ultimately, however, both works avail of imaginary homelands, of Indias of the mind (Rushdie, 12) in order to demonstrate the significance of travel in relation to perspective.

Bibliography
Primary Bibliography

Ghosh, Amitav. The Shadow Lines. London: John Murray, 2011. Lahiri, Jhumpa. The Namesake. New York: Mariner Books, 2004.

Secondary Bibliography
Dixon, Robert. The Writing of Amitav Ghosh. Amitav Ghosh: A Critical Companion. Ed. Tabish Khair. Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2005. Mongia, Padmini. Postcolonial Identity and Gender Boundaries in Amitav Ghoshs The Shadow Lines. College Literature 19.3 (1993): 225 228. Ruddy, Christopher. Strangers on a Train. Commonwealth 130.22 (2003): 18 20. Rushdie, Salman. Imaginary Homelands. Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981 91. London: Granta Books, 1992. Shukla, Sandhya Rajendra. India Abroad: Diasporic Cultures of Postwar America and England. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003. Tiffin, Helen. Post-Colonial Literatures and Counter-Discourse. The PostColonial Studies Reader. Ed. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, Helen Tiffin. New York: Routledge, 2006. Varvogli, Aliki. Travel and Dislocation in Contemporary American Fiction. New York: Routledge, 2012..