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“Because people are tortured for refusing to agree the moon shines by day and the sun by night….”
This one sentence, buried deep within the book, explains why the particular title was picked by Nayantara Sahgal for her latest offering When the Moon Shines By Day. The sentence pops up exactly halfway through the novella, at which point you’ve already given it up to be an obtuse abstraction with no real connect to the story. This, however, couldn’t be farther from the truth.
The sentence does a number of things at once.
One, it establishes a baseline for the bizarreness that the book constantly tries to juxtapose things against. (Something on the lines of “How could anyone possibly torture someone for refusing to agree to that the moon shines by day? Do people really do that?...”)
Two, it’s a powerful allegory.
And finally, it makes a strong political statement.
Because that is what Nayantara Sahgal truly does, throughout the book, unabashedly, unflinchingly.
Too caught up to read? Listen to the story:
Sahgal’s novella, simply put, is a mirror to everything that is viewed as a fault-line in our democracy today: violence against Dalits, discrimination against Muslims, censorship of literature, et al.
The story revolves around one protagonist, Rehana, who – the author is quick to tell us – has a name born out of no particular religion.
She is also revealed, halfway through the book, to be working for a humanitarian organisation called ‘Asians Against Torture’, which helps people irrespective of caste, creed, race or religion.
Right at the outset, then, Rehana is established as an almost idyllic person who, as the novella seems to suggest, has become hard to emulate in the India of When The Moon Shines By Day. Was the creation of this person deliberate? Says Sahgal:
As you read Sahgal’s novella, a desperate want for justice – some semblance of justice – aches at your insides. Surely, this can’t be right? How could they have killed the boy of the old flowerpot vendor? ‘They’ – eight men with long rods – kill a little Dalit boy, shouting “what leather is this, is this suitcase made of cowhide”? Surely, someone would have stopped them…surely, they could not have been this barbaric? Killed for caste?
A Muslim romantic interest of Rehana’s tells her, in casual conversation, how he had been asked to leave his old apartment:
Surely, ‘the others’ saw the injustice in that?
When an enthusiastic young scholar called Kamlesh has his book threatened with a ban, you sit up uncomfortably, squirming at the eerie mirroring of reality. This isn’t just verisimilitude; this is real life. As his publisher Sudhir tells him:
What does the author of this author think of such censorship, a familiar phenomenon today?
The talk of dissent and debate leads us to the horrific killing of veteran journalist and activist Gauri Lankesh and the vehement protests that have erupted – something, that Sahgal believes, has only strengthened the rightful voice of dissent…
Also Read: ‘Gauri Lankesh Didn’t Kill You For Your Opinion, Why Did You?’
Sahgal’s book doesn’t end optimistically. Towards the end, you see an uneasy group of like-minded people gathering around a table to wine and dine, almost as if they’re waiting with bated breath, for things to get worse. Sahgal agrees:
Perhaps the written word will get us through. Sahgal’s novella is living proof of its might.
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