In Charu Nivedita’s Tamil novel, translated into English by Nandini Krishnan, the spirit of Aurangzeb engages in a dialogue with a writer, urging him to rectify his historical portrayal
In Charu Nivedita’s Conversations with Aurangzeb: A Novel (HarperCollins), written originally in Tamil and translated into English by Nandini Krishnan, historical details intertwine with contemporary elements. In this part-satire, part- historical novel, the author and the translator, as well as some of their friends, have as much of a presence in the story as the main character, Aurangzeb, the much-maligned Mughal emperor, who does not enjoy any goodwill even when the Mughals have a cosy space in the history textbooks of the country.
A postmodern, transgressive writer who draws inspiration from Marquis de Sade and Andal, Charu Nivedita’s work has garnered interest for its experimental and ground-breaking premises and conceits. His 2008 novel, Zero Degree, which was longlisted for the 2013 Jan Michalski Prize for Literature, and inducted into the 50 Writers, 50 Books: The Best of Indian Fiction (Harper), is an unflinching exploration of the deepest psychic wounds of humanity through a patchwork of phone sex conversations, torture scenes, love poems, numerology, and mythology.
In Marginal Man (2018), Nivedita tells the story of a virile hedonist, and a writer with ire in his soul, Udhaya, anotimising and examining his escapades and eidos with the scalpel he has come to be known to wield in most of his works. Perhaps the best sample of his raw perception of the world, and his unapologetic takes on various subjects, including political powers, is Unfaithfully Yours — a collection of articles, essays, blogs and interviews.
The past and the present
In this story, a writer, while researching for his new novel about Catarina de San Juan or Mirra — as she was called by her Mughal brethren — stumbles upon an Aghori, who could summon into his body the spirit of anyone whom one wishes to speak. The writer approaches him to talk to the spirit of Shahjahan to get details about his first cousin kidnapped by the Portuguese and shipped off to Mexico where she converted to Catholicism. Instead of the spirit of Shahjahan, however, his son Aurangzeb takes over the Aghori because he was tired of the accusations against him and he wanted to set the record straight.
Soon, the spirit of Aurangzeb, who has had a good three centuries and some years more to mull over his actions during his time on Earth, seizes the opportunity to tell the story from his perspective. This Aurangzeb (the spirit) is very different from the angry Emperor perpetually on the warpath portrait that everyone is familiar with. This is a pensive presence, which, though apologetic, nonetheless still stands by some of his actions. He does admit frequently that he may have gone a bit too far and brought harm to his subjects by his excesses. The conversations between the writer and Aurangzeb, accompanied by the Farsi translator Rizwan or the writer’s friend, meander and ramble as they touch upon events in the past and present.
‘A defiance of all genres’
Sunny Leone and Priyanka Chopra make an appearance. Jawaharlal Nehru comes in for serious criticism for his role in villainising the Alamgir, and the erstwhile Mughal ruler wonders why anyone would want to give their child the name of his bloodthirsty ancestor. The story also touches upon genocides in the world, taxes, rituals like Sati, the failed attempts by the Mughals to cross the Vindhyas and conquer the land, the intelligent Rani Mangammal of Madurai who managed to stop the Mughals without any bloodshed, besides Jahanara, Zebunnissa, Zinatunnisa, and above all, why Aurangzeb alone was eligible to take over the throne after his father.
The long story initially started out as weekly instalments, published in an online magazine for one year. At the end of the year, the episodic work stood at about 1,45,000 words. In her introduction, Krishnan mentions that when the novel was translated into English, it was condensed to one-third of its length and has sections that are not present in the Tamil version. Some of the new text was written by the writer and some by the translator in a “collaborative exercise in creating a work, a ground-breaking book that would reflect on the life cycle of a novel.” She further writes, “To me, this is not a new genre so much as a defiance of all genres.”
In this historical fiction by a writer renowned for his talent in bending the rules, humour is blended into the story that otherwise recounts the dangerous power games and turmoil in the country preceding the rule of the Mughals and during their time. The plot touches upon the often violent means through which rulers came to power and the fierce vigilance required to keep and expand their kingdoms.
The triumph of the truth
Even when Aurangzeb tries to atone for his mistakes, he takes pains to point out that many of his actions were governed by an instinctive response to survive amidst rivals eyeing his position, even if they happen to be his brothers. Though Aurangzeb may be contrite for his role in creating divisions among the people, he points out how other rulers have used the same weapon to stay in power.
Citing the case of Ashoka, the spirit says, “Do you know that it was only after four years after Bindusara died that Ashoka was crowned king? … Because it took him four years to kill his brothers and their supporters, one by one…Over five hundred beheadings for each dead brother… A hero who went on to embrace and spread the message of peace. History’s heroes — are illusory, bereft of any connection to reality. The heroes spew as much venom and hate as the villains.”
Since no story of Aurangzeb can be complete without Shivaji, the Maratha King and his son are mentioned quite a few times in the narrative. Calling Shivaji his ‘other’ self, Aurangzeb alternates his anger and admiration for the ruler, who defied his advances. The novel underlined how every story has many sides to it, that nothing is purely black or white. In Aurangzeb’s confessions and attempt to set the record straight, we see how grandiose assumptions may not guarantee a favourable reputation and truth will always manage to push its way out of history at some point.
