‘The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you’re dead.’ ('The End of Imagination', first published in Outlook (India) and Frontline magazines, 27 July 1998)
In theory, I don’t like algorithmic recommendations. In practice, however, they occasionally work wonders. Arundhati Roy’s The End of Imagination was an algorithmic recommendation on Everand, and I clicked, opened it, and began to read. It took me only a page or two to realise I would love it. Published in 2016, The End of Imagination brings together five of Roy’s essay collections into one volume. As far as I remember, the essays cover the period from 1998 to 2004. Though they are not recent, they have aged beautifully.
Arundhati Roy is best known for The God of Small Things, her first novel and most famous work, but she is also a political activist and essayist. She is deeply involved in human rights and environmental causes and is a vocal critic of neo-imperialism, U.S. foreign policy, and globalisation. She opposes India’s nuclear policies, as well as its emphasis on industrialisation and economic growth.
In her essays, I read about global issues such as nuclear weapons, the state of democracy (and whether it remains democratic), neoliberalism, censorship, Hindu nationalism (i.e., Hindu Rashtra), and the privatisation and corporatisation of essential infrastructure such as water and electricity. I also read about Rohith Vemula, Soni Sori, Shankar Guha Niyogi, and many other individuals largely unknown outside India. Roy’s remarkable writing makes this world—so different from our white, Western, European world—feel incredibly relatable.
In 'Shall We Leave It to the Experts?', based on a talk given as the Third Annual Eqbal Ahmad Lecture at Amherst on 15 February 2001, Arundhati Roy offers a striking metaphor:
‘It’s as though the people of India have been rounded up and loaded onto two convoys of trucks (a huge big one and a tiny little one) that have set off resolutely in opposite directions. The tiny convoy is on its way to a glittering destination somewhere near the top of the world. The other convoy just melts into the darkness and disappears. A cursory survey that tallies the caste, class, and religion of who gets to be on which convoy would make a good Lazy Person’s Concise Guide to the History of India. For some of us, life in India is like being suspended between two of the trucks, one in each convoy, and being neatly dismembered as they move apart, not bodily, but emotionally and intellectually. Of course India is a microcosm of the world. Of course versions of what happens there happen everywhere. Of course, if you’re willing to look, the parallels are easy to find. The difference in India is only in the scale, the magnitude, and the sheer proximity of the disparity. In India your face is slammed right up against it.’
One of the most memorable essays, not just for me but for many, is 'The End of Imagination'. It was written shortly after the 1998 Indian and Pakistani nuclear tests, which caused global outrage. The essay truly hit home, especially as the world has been reminded of the nuclear threat by Putin’s repeated provocations and, more recently, the escalating conflict in the Middle East. Roy writes:
‘It is such supreme folly to believe that nuclear weapons are deadly only if they’re used. The fact that they exist at all, their very presence in our lives, will wreak more havoc than we can begin to fathom. Nuclear weapons pervade our thinking. Control our behaviour. Administer our societies. Inform our dreams. They bury themselves like meat hooks deep in the base of our brains. They are purveyors of madness. They are the ultimate coloniser. Whiter than any white man that ever lived. The very heart of whiteness.’
I’m keeping The End of Imagination in my Saved folder, as I imagine I’ll want to re-read some of the essays.