The Age of Kali: Indian Travels & Encounters.

William Dalrymple. Lonely Planet Publications. 2000. $14.95.

Reviewed by Stephanie McMillan

Appeared in City Link, May, 2000.

A review by The Times (UK) excerpted on the back cover calls this book a "love affair" with the Indian subcontinent, and in the introduction Dalrymple himself refers to it as "a work of love." It's true that Dalrymple has freely chosen India as his residence for ten years, so he must have some sort of positive feelings about it. It is unclear, however, whether this book is motivated by love or by fascination, two entirely different things.

The chapters, which are distinct pieces written in the style of travel articles for newspapers or magazines (indeed most of the articles included in the book were previously published as such), lead the reader through several regions of India, as well as Sri Lanka and Pakistan.

The book is, admittedly, interesting and rich in detail. Dalrymple provides a look at phenomena largely unfamiliar to the western reader, such as caste conflict, the inexorable forces that lead politicians into thuggery, and widow-burning. Yet one gets the sense that his intention to inform is contaminated with a desire to shock and titillate. This is apparent in both his range of topics, particularly the individuals he chooses to profile, as well as the tone he often takes in his commentary. He seems at times to don the persona of a slightly superior guide, pointing out extremes of irony and weirdness to the wide-eyed tourist. His focus is on eccentric, marginal characters, such as a famous Sikh rock star who pretends to be Madonna's friend, a woman who grows rich by writing widely vilified risque novels, and Kalashnikov-toting drug barons of the Khyber Pass.

Dalrymple's excessive attention to the lurid and sensational seems at times a substitute for honest or thoughtful analysis. Though his historical background notes are often in-depth and quite illuminating, the descriptive details he employs seem rather to accentuate the peculiarity of his subjects than to enlighten those who are seeking knowledge about another culture.

What is a minor annoyance when applied to rock stars and pornographers, becomes offensive when describing social conflict and progressive activism. Dalrymple repeatedly shows insensitive disregard for the seriousness of people who are, in various ways, sincerely struggling against injustice and the legacies of colonialism.

It must be acknowledged that seeking out the Tamil Tigers (who are fighting for a separate homeland in Sri Lanka) took some courage, and it was quite an accomplishment to gain access to them. However Dalrymple squandered the opportunity to shed light on their aims and methods, in favor of portraying particularly the women guerrillas one-dimensionally as "ranting," "ruthless," and "fanatic," and insulting them by repeatedly referring to their physical attractiveness. "They look sweet and naïve, but they can be alarmingly doctrinaire and severe. None more so than their leader, the tall and lovely Lieutenant Jaya, a political science graduate with a taste for incomprehensible Maoist jargon." Incomprehensible to Dalrymple, perhaps, but not to the determined Tigers nor to their large number of local supporters. If the Tigers read this essay, they would likely regret their hospitality to the foreign journalist.

Dalrymple's characterization of protests in Bangalore against the 1997 Miss World contest and a Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise similarly revealed a lack of comprehension and depth. After his initial assumption that the protests represented a "spectacular overreaction," he did grant that legitimate reasons may lie below the surface. He then proceeded to mischaracterize these reasons as a "fear of progress." That Miss World and western fast food represent "progress" is a matter of opinion and Dalrymple may very well feel they do; however to characterize the people's rejection of them as "fear of progress" betrays ignorance of the workings of cultural imperialism which heralds and accompanies economic exploitation. The protesters perceive these supposedly innocuous western phenomena as the visible tip of a much more dangerous iceberg (a perception no longer so incomprehensible even in the west - especially following the anti-WTO/IMF/World Bank protests in Seattle and Washington, D.C.). Dalrymple even stoops to sniping in a mean-spirited way at women who believe, as many do, that Miss World fosters unnatural standards of beauty, plastic surgery, and rape. "Pramilla Nesargi painted a grim picture of Colonel Sanders and the Miss World organization as sinister Riders of the Apocalypse, one of them descending on Bangalore bearing carcinogenic chicken nuggets to poison the unsuspecting Hindu youth, while the other perverted the morals of any left alive by the Kentucky plague."

Worse, he asserts that foreign competition has benefited the country, and uses the example of Cargill, which markets hybrid seeds and has bankrupted many local seed producers. Hybrid seeds have become a target of widespread public outrage in many parts of the world (including India) for their characteristic of growing into plants that don't re-seed in turn, forcing peasants into a lifetime of crippling dependency on the corporations that produce them. Dalrymple doesn't mention this, yet accuses those who reject this "progress" of having "glaring holes in (their) arguments," and of being "more emotional than logical."

Dalrymple doesn't project much feeling in his writing save ironic amusement, sarcasm and fascination with the outlandish. After living in India for ten years, is he really as astonished by the sights and characters as he portrays himself to be, or is this tone affected for the benefit of sheltered readers of the west?

The essays in The Age of Kali may have made for entertaining, relatively informative travel pieces in the magazines where most of them first appeared. Their collective value as an in-depth, clear-headed view of specific fragments of India's vast and complex society is, however, questionable.


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