Tamas by Bhisham Sahni: A Must-Read Novel
SAHITYA AKADEMI AWARD IN HINDI
Chaifry
7/26/20257 min read
Tamas (meaning "darkness" in Sanskrit), penned by Bhisham Sahni, is a seminal Hindi novel first published in 1974 and translated into English by Daisy Rockwell in 2016, with earlier translations by Jai Ratan (1981) and Sahni himself (2001). Set against the harrowing backdrop of the 1947 Partition of India, this work draws from Sahni’s firsthand experiences as a witness to communal riots in Rawalpindi, then part of undivided Punjab. A polyglot writer, playwright, and actor, Sahni (1915–2003) transformed Hindi literature with his incisive portrayals of human nature, earning accolades for Tamas, including a prestigious literary award and a National Award-winning television miniseries adaptation by Govind Nihalani in 1986. Tamas chronicles the eruption of sectarian violence in a small frontier town, exposing the fragility of communal harmony when manipulated by colonial machinations and vested interests.
This review posits that Tamas is essential reading for its unflinching depiction of the human cost of Partition, its masterful narrative structure, and its timeless warning against communalism, offering a poignant reflection on the consequences of division. Its relevance extends beyond India, resonating with global audiences grappling with polarization and ethnic strife. By summarizing the novel’s core themes, critically analyzing its strengths and weaknesses with specific examples, and concluding with its imperative for readers—particularly Indian youth—this review underscores why Tamas remains a vital text for fostering empathy and historical consciousness.
Tamas unfolds in a small, unnamed town in pre-Partition Punjab, capturing the escalating tensions that ignite communal riots between Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs in 1947. The novel lacks a singular protagonist, weaving a polyphonic narrative through multiple characters—ordinary citizens, political activists, and colonial administrators—united by the looming specter of violence. Sahni begins with Nathu, a low-caste tanner, who is bribed by Murad Ali, a shadowy Muslim figure, to kill a pig for alleged veterinary purposes: “Nathu had never killed a pig before, and his hands trembled” (Sahni, 2016, p. 3). Unbeknownst to Nathu, the carcass is placed on a mosque’s steps, triggering outrage: “A pig! A pig on the mosque steps!” (Sahni, 2016, p. 18). This act, orchestrated to incite unrest, sets off a chain reaction of retaliation and massacre.
The narrative shifts to a diverse cast, including Congress workers from all religions who gather for a morning march, their camaraderie evident in “They laughed and joked, as if no shadow hung over them” (Sahni, 2016, p. 25). Yet, communal suspicions soon fracture their unity. A Muslim mob slaughters Hindus and Sikhs, prompting brutal reprisals: “Blood flowed in the lanes, and screams pierced the night” (Sahni, 2016, p. 102). Amid the chaos, characters like Rajo, a Hindu woman, hide in terror, while Harnam Singh and his wife flee their home: “We’ve lived here all our lives, and now we’re strangers” (Sahni, 2016, p. 120). The British administrator Richard, complicit in delaying intervention, muses cynically: “They fight against one another in the name of religion and against us in the name of their country” (Sahni, 2016, p. 150).
Sahni exposes the role of political factions—the Muslim League, Congress, and RSS—in stoking division. A young RSS member, Ranvir, is initiated through a ritual killing, emboldened by zeal: “He felt a surge of power, as if he could conquer all” (Sahni, 2016, p. 80). Meanwhile, Dev Datt, a communist, laments the middle class’s plight: “The poor fight for survival, the rich for power, but we’re caught in between” (Sahni, 2016, p. 135). The riots subside only when Richard belatedly calls in the military, leaving a devastated landscape: “Like the receding tide of the sea, the tide of the riots had subsided, leaving behind all kinds of litter and junk and garbage” (Sahni, 2016, p. 300). In the aftermath, a bureaucrat tasked with counting the dead grows numb: “The stories of loss blurred into one another, until they meant nothing” (Sahni, 2016, p. 320). Tamas concludes with a sobering reflection on the enduring scars of mistrust, yet hints at human resilience amidst the wreckage.
Tamas excels in its polyphonic narrative, capturing the multiplicity of perspectives during Partition. By eschewing a central protagonist, Sahni mirrors the collective tragedy, as seen in the Congress workers’ initial unity: “They laughed and joked, as if no shadow hung over them” (Sahni, 2016, p. 25). This structure allows readers to inhabit diverse minds—from Nathu’s naive compliance to Richard’s calculated indifference—creating a panoramic view of societal collapse. Sahni’s prose, translated adeptly by Rockwell, retains the Hindi original’s visceral quality, blending stark realism with poetic imagery, as in “Blood flowed in the lanes, and screams pierced the night” (Sahni, 2016, p. 102). This balance renders the violence haunting and immediate, amplifying its emotional impact.
The novel’s historical authenticity, rooted in Sahni’s Rawalpindi experiences, lends it credibility. The pig incident, inspired by real events, underscores how trivial acts can ignite cataclysmic violence: “A pig! A pig on the mosque steps!” (Sahni, 2016, p. 18). Sahni’s critique of colonial manipulation, embodied by Richard’s remark, “They fight against one another in the name of religion” (Sahni, 2016, p. 150), exposes divide-and-rule tactics. His portrayal of political factions—RSS, Muslim League, and Congress—avoids caricature, presenting their ideologies through nuanced characters like Ranvir and Dev Datt, whose contrasting views enrich the narrative.
Sahni’s empathy for the marginalized shines through characters like Nathu and Rajo. Nathu’s trembling hands, “Nathu had never killed a pig before, and his hands trembled” (Sahni, 2016, p. 3), humanize the exploited, while Rajo’s fear reflects the gendered toll of violence. The novel’s closing image of desolation, “Like the receding tide of the sea, the tide of the riots had subsided” (Sahni, 2016, p. 300), paired with hints of resilience, “Our people’s lives are suffering due to caste oppression, yet they still find moments to sing and celebrate” (Sahni, 2016, p. 85), strikes a balance between despair and hope, affirming the human spirit’s endurance.
Despite its strengths, Tamas has limitations. The absence of a central protagonist, while innovative, may disorient readers seeking a focal point. The rapid shifts between characters, such as from Nathu to Ranvir, can dilute emotional investment, particularly in minor figures like the bureaucrat whose numbness, “The stories of loss blurred into one another” (Sahni, 2016, p. 320), feels underdeveloped. The novel’s episodic structure, while reflective of chaos, occasionally sacrifices narrative cohesion, as some vignettes—such as a brief Sikh family’s flight—end abruptly.
The translation, though acclaimed, faces challenges in capturing the Hindi’s linguistic richness. Rockwell’s rendition preserves the narrative’s essence, but certain idioms, as in “We’ve lived here all our lives, and now we’re strangers” (Sahni, 2016, p. 120), may lose cultural specificity for non-Hindi readers. Additionally, the novel’s focus on male-driven action—Nathu, Ranvir, Richard—marginalizes female voices, with characters like Rajo receiving less depth, limiting the exploration of gendered experiences during Partition.
Finally, Tamas’s unrelenting grimness may overwhelm readers. The graphic violence, as in “Blood flowed in the lanes”** (Sahni, 2016, p. 102), while necessary, risks desensitization, and the sparse moments of hope, such as “Our people’s lives are suffering due to caste oppression” (Sahni, 2016, p. 85), may feel overshadowed. This intensity, while powerful, could deter readers unaccustomed to to Partition literature’s starkness.
Why Readers Must Read This Book
Tamas is a vital text for international readers, offering a searing lens into the 1947 Partition, a cataclysm that displaced millions and reshaped South Asia. Its depiction of communal betrayal, as in “We’ve lived here all our lives, and now we’re strangers” (Sahni, 2016, p. 120), parallels global conflicts driven by ethnic or religious divide, from Rwanda to the Balkans. Sahni’s exposure of colonial complicity, “They fight against one another in the name of religion” (Sahni, 2016, p. 150), invites reflection on how external powers exacerbate local tensions, relevant to contemporary geopolitical strife.
The novel’s emphasis on education and awareness, “We who are asleep must open our eyes” (Sahni, 2016, p. 100), resonates with global advocacy for critical consciousness against propaganda. Its portrayal of ordinary people’s manipulation, as in Nathu’s unwitting role, “Nathu had never killed a pig before” (Sahni, 2016, p. 3), underscores the vulnerability of the marginalized, a universal theme. The visceral imagery of violence, “Blood flowed in the lanes” (Sahni, 2016, p. 102), fosters empathy for victims of communalism, urging solidarity across cultures.
For Indian youth, Tamas is particularly urgent, addressing the persistent shadow of communalism in modern India. Sahni’s narrative, rooted in real events, challenges romanticized views of pre-Partition harmony, as in “They laughed and joked, as if no shadow hung over them” (Sahni, 2016, p. 25), revealing how quickly unity can fracture. The novel’s warning against religious fanaticism, embodied by Ranvir’s zeal, “He felt a surge of power” (Sahni, 2016, p. 80), is a cautionary tale for youth navigating polarized social media and political rhetoric. Its reflection on generational decline, “The poor fight for survival, the rich for power” (Sahni, 2016, p. 135), mirrors contemporary anxieties about eroding values.
Tamas’s celebration of resilience, “Our people’s lives are suffering due to caste oppression, yet they still find moments to sing and celebrate” (Sahni, 2016, p. 85), inspires Indian youth to honor their heritage while confronting inequities. Its raw style and polyphonic narrative challenge conventional storytelling, encouraging engagement with Hindi literature’s rich legacy. Tamas is a message vital for fostering harmony in India’s diverse society.
Tamas by Bhisham Sahni is a towering achievement in Hindi literature, a haunting chronicle of Partition’s human toll that resonates across time and borders. Its vivid imagery, as in “Like the receding tide of the sea, the tide of the riots had subsided” (Sahni, 2016, p. 300), and incisive critique, as in “They fight against one another in the name of religion” (Sahni, 2016, p. 150), cement its status as a testimonio of collective trauma and resilience. Despite challenges posed by its structure and translation, its authenticity, empathy, and prophetic warning against communalism make it indispensable. Highly recommended for readers seeking to understand the intersections of history, identity, and human nature, Tamas is a clarion call to confront division with compassion and awareness, particularly for Indian youth shaping a pluralistic future.