Untouchable by Mulk Raj Anand: A Powerful Novel

Imagine walking through a world where your very presence is deemed a pollutant, where a single touch could spark outrage, and where your dreams are crushed by the weight of an ancient hierarchy. This is the heart-wrenching reality of Untouchable, Mulk Raj Anand’s groundbreaking 1935 novel, a searing indictment of India’s caste system that remains a cornerstone of Indian English literature. Born in 1905 in Peshawar, Anand, a Cambridge-educated scholar and a pioneer of Indo-Anglian fiction, drew from personal tragedy—his aunt’s suicide after being ostracized for sharing a meal with a Muslim woman—to craft this vivid portrayal of a day in the life of an “untouchable” sweeper.

With a foreword by E.M. Forster, who praised its ability to “go straight to the heart of its subject” (Anand, 2014, p. vii), Untouchable blends raw emotion with social critique, earning Anand the moniker “India’s Charles Dickens.”

I’m here to tell you why Untouchable is a must-read, not just for its historical significance but for its power to make us feel the sting of injustice and the flicker of hope in a broken world. It’s a story that speaks to anyone who’s ever felt marginalized, offering a lens into the human cost of prejudice. For Indian youth and global readers alike, it’s a call to confront systemic wrongs and imagine a fairer future. Through a heartfelt summary, a critical analysis with specific examples, and a passionate case for its universal relevance, this review will show why Untouchable is a timeless cry for justice that demands to be read.

Untouchable unfolds over a single day in the life of Bakha, an 18-year-old sweeper in the fictional Himalayan town of Bulashah, whose caste status as an “untouchable” brands him as polluted. The novel opens with a stark depiction of his world: “The outcastes’ colony was a group of mud-walled houses that clustered together in two rows, under the shadow both of the town and the cantonment, but outside their boundaries and separate from them” (Anand, 2014, p. 3). Bakha, strong and proud, is captivated by British “fashun,” wearing a military-style blanket despite its thin warmth: “He preferred the English clothes against all claims, secret or open, of his father’s choice in cloth” (Anand, 2014, p. 5). His father, Lakha, head of the sweepers, berates him for laziness: “Get up, get up, you shameless loafer” (Anand, 2014, p. 7), revealing their strained bond, worsened by the loss of Bakha’s mother.

Bakha’s day begins with his grueling task of cleaning latrines, a job that defines his untouchable status: “He had been cleaning latrines since he was a child” (Anand, 2014, p. 10). While sweeping, he accidentally brushes against a high-caste merchant, forgetting to announce his presence: “Posh, posh, sweeper coming!” (Anand, 2014, p. 25). The man’s fury erupts: “You have defiled me, you swine!” (Anand, 2014, p. 26), and a crowd gathers, shaming Bakha until a Muslim vendor disperses them. Humiliated, Bakha flees to a temple, drawn to its rituals but barred from entry: “He stood for a moment enraptured, oblivious to the world” (Anand, 2014, p. 40). His sister, Sohini, faces worse when Pundit Kali Nath, a hypocritical priest, molests her and accuses her of polluting him: “You have polluted the temple, you filthy girl!” (Anand, 2014, p. 45).

Bakha’s anger simmers as he attends a friend’s sister’s wedding, where his high-caste friend Ram Charan shows rare kindness: “You’re my friend, Bakha, no matter what caste” (Anand, 2014, p. 60). A hockey game turns violent when a rock hits a child, and Bakha, trying to help, is screamed at by the mother: “Don’t touch him, you’ll pollute him!” (Anand, 2014, p. 75). Kicked out by his father, Bakha wanders to a railway station, where he hears Mahatma Gandhi speak against untouchability: “The fault does not lie in the Hindu religion, but in those who profess it” (Anand, 2014, p. 100). Overhearing two intellectuals, R.N. Bashir and Iqbal Nath Sarshar, debate Gandhi’s ideas, Bakha learns of the flush toilet, a potential end to his degrading work: “Perhaps I can find the poet some day and ask him about his machine” (Anand, 2014, p. 120). The novel ends with Bakha rushing home, hopeful yet uncertain: “A sudden impulse shot through the transformation of space and time” (Anand, 2014, p. 122).

Untouchable is a literary thunderbolt, its compact 160 pages delivering a visceral punch that exposes the cruelty of the caste system. Anand’s prose, infused with Punjabi and Hindi idioms, is both lyrical and grounded, creating a vivid sense of place: “The outcastes’ colony was a group of mud-walled houses” (Anand, 2014, p. 3). His ability to immerse readers in Bakha’s perspective, “Posh, posh, sweeper coming!” (Anand, 2014, p. 25), makes the shame of untouchability palpable, earning praise for its “vitality, fire, and richness of detail” (Seymour-Smith, as cited in Amazon, 2014). The single-day structure intensifies the narrative, compressing a lifetime of oppression into moments like the merchant’s slap, “You have defiled me, you swine!” (Anand, 2014, p. 26), which burns with raw injustice.

Bakha is a triumph of characterization—proud, sensitive, and yearning for dignity despite his status. His admiration for British style, “He preferred the English clothes” (Anand, 2014, p. 5), reveals a complex inner life, torn between self-respect and societal scorn. Anand’s social realism shines in his critique of hypocrisy, embodied by Pundit Kali Nath, “You have polluted the temple, you filthy girl!” (Anand, 2014, p. 45), whose piety masks predation. The novel’s climax, Gandhi’s speech, “The fault does not lie in the Hindu religion” (Anand, 2014, p. 100), weaves historical context into fiction, grounding the story in India’s independence struggle. The introduction of the flush toilet, “Perhaps I can find the poet some day” (Anand, 2014, p. 120), is a bold stroke, blending hope with practicality.

Anand’s empathy for the marginalized, drawn from his time at Gandhi’s Sabarmati Ashram, infuses the novel with authenticity. The friendships, like Ram Charan’s, “You’re my friend, Bakha” (Anand, 2014, p. 60), offer glimmers of humanity amidst cruelty, making the story both heartbreaking and uplifting. Its accessibility, with simple yet evocative language, ensures it resonates with diverse readers, from scholars to first-time novel readers.

Despite its power, Untouchable has flaws. The late shift to philosophical debates, as in the intellectuals’ discussion, “Perhaps I can find the poet some day” (Anand, 2014, p. 120), can feel heavy-handed, pulling focus from Bakha’s personal journey. This “muddy exploration of philosophy” (Goodreads, 2025) risks diluting the novel’s emotional core. The reliance on 19th-century English and Russian novelistic traditions, with its day-long arc and intellectual climax, may feel dated to some readers, lacking the subtlety of modern fiction.

The portrayal of secondary characters, like Sohini, is underdeveloped. Her assault, “You have polluted the temple, you filthy girl!” (Anand, 2014, p. 45), is a pivotal moment, but her inner world remains vague, limiting the narrative’s depth. The Christian missionary, whose “tongue was like a pair of scissors” (Anand, 2014, p. 90), feels like a narrative device rather than a fully realized figure, leaving Bakha’s encounter with Christianity unresolved. The novel’s focus on Bulashah’s specific setting, “The outcastes’ colony” (Anand, 2014, p. 3), while vivid, may distance readers unfamiliar with rural India’s nuances. Finally, the ending’s ambiguity, “A sudden impulse shot through” (Anand, 2014, p. 122), while hopeful, may frustrate those seeking resolution, leaving Bakha’s future unclear.

Why Readers Must Read This Book

Listen up, readers—this book is a gut-punch that’ll change how you see the world. For Indian youth, Untouchable is a mirror to the caste system’s lingering shadows, still felt in rural villages and urban biases. Bakha’s shame, “You have defiled me, you swine!” (Anand, 2014, p. 26), echoes the microaggressions faced by marginalized communities today, whether it’s caste-based slurs or workplace exclusion. His dream of dignity, “He preferred the English clothes” (Anand, 2014, p. 5), resonates with young Indians striving to break free from societal limits, whether chasing IIT admissions or startup dreams in Bengaluru.

The novel’s critique of hypocrisy, “You have polluted the temple, you filthy girl!” (Anand, 2014, p. 45), exposes the double standards of those who preach morality while perpetuating injustice, a lesson for youth navigating India’s complex social landscape. Gandhi’s words, “The fault does not lie in the Hindu religion” (Anand, 2014, p. 100), challenge you to question traditions that harm, urging activism in a nation where caste still influences marriage, jobs, and politics. The flush toilet’s promise, “Perhaps I can find the poet some day” (Anand, 2014, p. 120), is a reminder that progress—technological or social—can dismantle oppression, inspiring youth to champion change, from policy reform to grassroots movements.

Globally, Untouchable speaks to anyone who’s felt like an outsider. Bakha’s resilience, “He stood for a moment enraptured” (Anand, 2014, p. 40), is a universal cry for dignity, whether you’re fighting racial prejudice, economic inequality, or social exclusion. The novel’s raw emotion, “Don’t touch him, you’ll pollute him!” (Anand, 2014, p. 75), forces you to confront the pain of being dehumanized, making it a must-read for anyone seeking empathy. Its short length and vivid storytelling make it accessible, while its depth, “A sudden impulse shot through” (Anand, 2014, p. 122), sparks reflection. For Indian youth, it’s a call to honor the past while building a fairer future, making Untouchable a timeless rallying cry.

Untouchable by Mulk Raj Anand is a literary firebrand, a slim yet searing novel that lays bare the cruelty of caste and the resilience of the human spirit. Its vivid prose, “The outcastes’ colony was a group of mud-walled houses” (Anand, 2014, p. 3), and unforgettable protagonist, “He preferred the English clothes” (Anand, 2014, p. 5), make it a classic that burns with urgency. Despite a heavy-handed philosophical ending and underdeveloped side characters, its emotional power and social insight are undeniable. For Indian youth and global readers, it’s a call to confront injustice and embrace empathy, from “Posh, posh, sweeper coming!” (Anand, 2014, p. 25) to “Perhaps I can find the poet some day” (Anand, 2014, p. 120). Pick up this book—it’s a short, soul-stirring journey that’ll leave you questioning, feeling, and fighting for a better world.