‘History’s Angel’ by Anjum Hasan is an extraordinary tale of an ordinary Muslim

Aradhika Sharma

Anjum Hasan’s latest novel is an extraordinary book about a life most ordinary. Alif, a history teacher in a school in Delhi, is a mild-mannered, drab man, with few aspirations and a limited sphere of existence. A shiny new pair of shoes purchased from his cousin’s glittering shop is a proud possession. That they pinch and he must change them for a more functional pair is representative of his life. “He sees himself as the man at the edge of the crowd, never the centre of attention at a wedding party or a school function or a family gathering.”

Alif is surrounded by existential crises. His ambitious wife, Tahira, aspires for a better lifestyle and is trying to nail her MBA exams to get a better job and money. His teenaged son, Salim, wants to drop out of school and make his fortune in a yet-undefined field. At the same time, his parents are at odds with Ahmad, the orphan they took in and raised as a servant, but who, much to their chagrin, is turning into a radical, wife-beating fundamentalist. His friend Ganesh has contacted a college sweetheart, on whom Alif also had a crush and still has feelings for.

All the while, his mind is preoccupied with philosophic queries: “Does faith ennoble the faithful or does it make them quixotic?”

Although steeped in the humdrum of Alif’s life, which is neither inspiring nor pathbreaking, yet Hasan acknowledges and reveals the crises that threaten the very existence of the older, more gracious and more inclusive times. Contrasting sharply with Alif’s historical perspectives, she presents visions of tinselly, tacky modernity, yet one which is preferred by the new India.

Time and again, Hasan harks back to the past, often making ironic historical contrasts. In a conversation about Humayun’s Tomb, a character says: “You know what? That was technology. They’re the ones who had it, making impossibly grand things like that. Is this technology, this phone, these apps, this ugly furniture, these buildings, this city? Logon ko **** bananey ka tareeqa hai, bas.”

While exploring Alif’s commonplace life, Hasan exposes the increasing “otherness” of the Muslim community in the country. Alif is an anomaly. He’s a Muslim teaching the history of India. When a recalcitrant nine-year-old student torments him by demanding, “Are you a dirty Musalla?”, his involuntary action of twisting the lad’s ear brings Alif’s world tumbling down. He is suspended from service, pending investigation. However, he must hide the fact from his wife and parents.

At the same time, the city is smouldering with the government-proposed Citizenship (Amendment) Act (CAA) and National Register of Citizens (NRC). “It isn’t enough that you were born here,” says Alif’s journalist friend. “It isn’t enough that your parents were born here. Does it flow in your veins, the mud of the Motherland?” Attitudinal changes are increasingly visible. Many people are cagey about renting houses to people of another community. Alif’s hitherto equanimous and liberal school principal has been replaced with a stricter one with rigid ideas about education, Indian culture and Indian values, which entail havans to thank the gods for winning sports competitions.

Hasan comments about fanaticism, irrespective of religion. Alif himself is a non-practising Muslim and is rendered uncomfortable by the Imam of the mosque, for whom he feels “muted fear” and whom he calls “a common zealot… and there are a thousand such elsewhere”. Yet, he and his community are presented with increasing dilemmas of being Muslim. Alif squirms when faced with comments on the Indian demography; skirts conversations regarding the Muslim invaders in medieval India; and tries to ignore assumptions that the proximity of a mosque or madrasa is essential to a Muslim’s home.

‘History’s Angel’, however, is never strident. If anything, it languidly meanders along. Hasan is cannily observant, a sophisticated writer with a wry and subtle sense of humour, with which she highlights the ridiculousness and futility of seemingly ordinary milieus, while never detracting from the increasing alienation of a community.