The Paralyzing Effects of Colonialism and Caste in Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things

 

“Are you sure you aren’t in need of medical attention?” opines the lead medical officer on board.

              A long inhale and exhale of Aster are taken before his response. “If anyone asks me that again, see how long until they are beginning for medical attention more than me.” And with that, a small radius of space was given to Aster in the fast moving aircraft.

              Aster may have said that he was fine, but the blast did in fact cause many visible scars to appear on his face. A bloody nose had also started and clotted in the span of time since take off. Nothing could stop the Premier in this escalated chase of cat and mouse.

              “What I do need is any indication of Felix’s whereabouts. Now tell me, what have we found.”

              The main pilot was a man that was by no means small. It was rare to ever see him with his visor up but this surely gave the man an added boost of confidence and a countenance that was resistant to any emotion other than indifference. Tonight was a real test. He knew better than anyone that flying beyond the grid was a tricky business. Impossible for most pilots to get right as the weather was more unpredictable in this space. This, combined with weak or non-existent read outs, made the trip even more stressful. No one could reason with Aster at this point and it was beginning to break the main pilot down.

              “Aster” says the pilot as he briefly gives controls over to his co-pilot. He gets up from his chair, looming a few feet above the Premier. For added effect, the pilot removes his helmet revealing- to the surprise of many- quite a long mane of hair pulled into a pony fall down his back and bulbous brown eyes drilling into Aster’s bruised face. “If you wish to remain on this chopper, I would advise you to mind your place. In Lio, you may be all powerful, but when we are out in the void, in the dark of night and with weather as unpredictable as this, I hold the lives of every soul on this chopper in the palms of my hand. You are welcome to take the reigns if you think you can do this better.”

              And with his point made, the main pilot replaced his helmet and returned to captain the ship.

              “Now please, my trusted co-pilot will provide us all with an update.”

              The co-pilot cleared their throat and gave a quickly uttered briefing.

              “Felix is headed North. It is not clear where he is headed. According to our scans, he is the only person aboard. Our convoy is set to reach him in 10 minutes.”

              “Now, let’s give the pilots room to do their jobs.” Says the pilot who keeps his eyes glued on the path ahead.

              Aster has taken a seat and proceeds to avert his eyes to prevent eye contact with any of the nearby sentinels or even the medical officer whose only wish is to tend to the bruises of Aster.

|||

              Opti was once a physical being and not a disembodied voice. Opti was Letan in origin. A true Letan legend. Opti had been around long before Hex was a place of industry. The Letan were the most advanced machines on the planet but with a connection to nature. They were no different than the humans that roamed the planet. Though not made from organic matter, they breathed and felt emotion and had a propensity to explore. It was not until the appearance of the humans that founded Lio that the Letan even thought of themselves as different. And that was all it was, a thought. Yet thoughts can be almost as detrimental as physical attacks.

              Opti was welcoming and encouraged a partnership between the new people of flesh and bone. There was no harm then. Hex was a large planet and had a wealth of resources to support everyone.

|||

              Felix awoke from a light nap feeling somewhat rejuvenated. Flying always made him incredibly sleepy and this ride was no different. Even being somewhat recharged, Felix didn’t feel right.

              “How long was I asleep, Opti?” Felix says rubbing and lightly tapping his face.

              “Only for 20 minutes. Not too long. Feel free to fall back asleep. I have things under control” Opti had a way of always coming off as a paternal figure.

              “Could you do me a favor and check to see that we aren’t being followed? I have an odd feeling I can’t quite place.”

              The forward panels pull up multiple read outs as Opti filters through the data. Everything looks normal.

              “The skies are clear.”

              Sometimes because of the translucence of the forward panels, Felix would mistake lights out in the distance or debris on the window for data on the screen. It had happened so often, Opti would often chide Felix and recommend he see an optician. It really did appear to Felix as if there were lights emerging from the southern part of the map. 6 lights. All spread out an equal distance one from another.

              Felix stood up and tried to get his blood pumping. A few jumps and some moments spent looking away from the screens would help him read the display more accurately. Aster returned to his chair and looked back at the glass. The cluster of lights this time were higher up but still within the field of the map. Didn’t Opti notice this, thought Felix. Clearly Opti did not.

              He felt as if he should be assured by Opti’s monitoring yet the feeling in his chest began to knot and contract even tighter.

              “Clear the forward displays. Clear them now!” Felix said and he leaned forward to get a better view.

              Clearing the dash did nothing to wipe clear the cluster of lights the somewhat groggy scientist had seen. Far into the distance- but not far enough- were in fact lights approaching their position. Every passing moment brought them ever closer to this convoy.

              “Opti, look! It must be Aster. No one else can fly out here, let alone multiple ships.”

              “I am now picking up readings. I have verification that this is Aster and his convoy. My apologies. Out here, technology doesn’t have the upper hand. What do you advise?”

              “Take us down. Take us down into the trees!” Felix gets up from his seat and in a rush begins to put on his pack. He initiates the levitation mechanisms for the 2 cribs. Down the shuttle goes into the dark cover of the trees.

              What at first appeared to be the best idea quickly became a problem. Foliage was so tightly packed and overgrown here that the shuttle jerked and shuttered the entire way down. It was as if a ball was thrown down a shoot only to find itself caught in a game of plinko. Lights were flashing throughout the cab and right before the shuttle touched down on the ground the shuttle canted forward and the front glass panel smashed into a large trunk. A spider web fracture etched itself in the top right corner of the pane.

              All the commotion set off the two resting children. Nerves were surpassing their limits and the danger was still rapidly approaching.

              Opti managed to land the craft with enough room to open the hatch.

              “Is this where we split paths?” Opti said without the usual optimistic tone absent.

              “It would seem so” says Felix as he stops organizing his things to look towards the cockpit. “You know how to lose Aster. We will meet again.”

              “I’ve already alerted the shelter. They should be expecting you and will search for you if you don’t arrive. By my calculations, it will take you…”

              And at this moment, Felix jumps in.

              “No need to share that you have done everything you can to plan ahead. Don’t you worry yourself about me. We have made it this far thanks to you. Thanks. Thanks for everything. Now go give Aster a run for his money.”

              Felix and his belongings and the children have left the aircraft and are waiting at the bottom of the ramp. The engines of the shuttle begin to come to life once more as they ready for yet another take off.

              “And thank you, Felix. I know we will meet again.”

              Felix descends the ramp and covers himself and the babies while the shuttle pushes the wind every which way in the small clearing. As the shuttle rises, darkness quickly overtakes the 3 newcomers who are met by a deep silence in the overgrowth. The children had stopped crying the silence because of the calm.

              But, were things safer here? Thought Felix.

|||

              “Felix shuttle is dead ahead” exclaims the main pilot who couldn’t be more happy with himself at this point in the pursuit. It had been a long while since his achievements were as obvious to others as this. It didn’t seem possible, but the trio of ships felt as if they were being propelled across the sky by an invisible hand. Hearts were pumping fast.

              On their approach, Felix’s ship began to slowly descend toward the Earth.

              “Where are they going” was the thought pacing through Aster’s mind.

              A long, long time ago, Aster was an adventurous soul. Physical boundaries meant little to him then. He would go beyond the mechanical city to place himself where he could be away from the noise. Be away from the people. He could just be and that was all.

              Loud beeps and alerts from the cockpit shook off Aster’s nostalgic blinders. An extreme gust had pushed the flying metal crafts in the direction it thought best which spelled trouble given how closely the crafts were aligned.

              The ship flanking the right of Aster’s took the brunt of the wind’s gigantic push. It was hurled directly towards Aster and his crew. Luckily, the main pilot was able to out maneuver the hazard and pull up towards the stars. Sentinels who were not lucky enough to be holding on to a support found themselves rolling on top of one another.

              In the frantic moment, the remaining chopper did its best to avoid catastrophe. But the effort was not enough.

              A rotor of the windswept chopper collided head on with the rotor of the other craft. Immediately, flames ignited in the sky.

              Neither shuttle exploded but what did happen next was reigned by chaos.

              Each craft lost its stability and began to rotate in result of the missing turbine.

              From above, the scene was nearly beautiful. Darkness brought contrast to the varying colors of flame. Each burning at a temperature all its own. Broken glass sprinkled across the sky in small shimmers.

              Everyone was shaken by the sudden escalation of events.

              “Get Felix back in our sights. We can’t let him get away now.”

              It almost seemed coordinated as Felix’s ship rose from the dense foliage below. And it wasn’t just his ship. Two other materialized around it. All the ships looked the same.

              Before they had anytime to react, the ships all went on their way in 3 different directions. Where to go from here? Aster thought to himself while he tried to strategize their next move.

              He didn’t have much time.

|||

              Wind had picked up and began to rustle the trees. Felix shivered in the cold.  

              It wasn’t until I turned 18 that life really started for me. It’s a silly thing to admit considering that my life had already been unraveling well before this time. I made choices on who my friends were, what I would buy for lunch at school and how I would spend my free time. Life is all about choices.

              Yet, turning 18 brought on changes that challenged me and pushed me in ways I often thought I couldn’t overcome or deal with.

              What is most clear to me is that these choices, regardless of how they were perceived by others, were always decisions that were needed. And regardless of if those choices were right, it doesn’t really matter. It only matters that I am now more self-aware than I’ve been in the past.

              To understand some of my motivations, it is important to consider my earlier days.

              At 16, I started to find myself more seriously considering my future. This is all thanks to my involvement in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I don’t mean to be obnoxious but I am going to make another jump back into my history.

              Being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was (and still is) such a huge pillar of my life. As a disclaimer, I in no way or form represent the modern Latter Day Saint or, aka, Mormon. I don’t abide by any of the principles or expectations of a member of that organization but it did inform my upbringing to a very large extent.

              My membership meant that every Sunday of my youth was spent at church. Sunday service was a 3 hour experience. Hour one: entire congregation. Hour two: split into groups by age. Hour three: split further into groups of people your age and your gender.

              I also participated in youth group every Wednesday evening. This most often took the form of Boy Scouts of America meetings. It is my honest opinion that my dad should have received my Eagle Scout award instead of me because without him pushin my brothers and I to attend meetings, Pow Wows and so forth, I probably would have not finished this on my own.

              As soon as I became a Freshman in High School, I started to attend LDS Seminary. In layman’s terms, this simply was bible study at 6:00am. This was a commitment that I kept throughout my years at North Thurston High School. By the time I would leave for home from Sunday mass, I would have spent 10 hours of my week (during the school year) invested in LDS sponsored activities. So it would make no sense to say that my membership in this faith had no influence over the way I see the world, my self and religion.

              And I reference being 16 because this is the year that I fell into the age group of boys called Priests. 16-18 year old boys made up this title. This was the time when missionary work became the central talking point of any lesson taught in Sunday School.

              The rules have changed since I was that age. 19 was the age any eligible young man could throw their name into the hat to become a missionary.

              Serving a mission was an idea that I never was unaware of. We would sing songs in primary talking about how I hope I get called on a mission. I also would sing songs about my aspirations of getting married in the temple and having kids which made a lot of choices in my life difficult to make. If you had watched numerous commercials about buying an AT&T phone your entire life and then were offered a better deal with Verizon, I am sure that you would hesitate with the decisions. You feel as if you make your own choices when you belt them out each Sunday.

              To serve a mission for the LDS church (according to the gospels of Alexander) meant that you would forgo your 19^th and 20^th years in service to God. Being eligible meant that you respected your body, did your best as a human being and always remembered Jesus’s eternal sacrifice for you. There were many boys I knew in grade school and in college that surprisingly went ahead and served missions. I always saw myself as a good two shoes who could do no wrong. And for the most part, this probably was true. My darkest secret at the time was that I had gay thoughts and occasionally watched gay porn on the main home computer. I am impressed that I never was directly caught watching it on a computer that literally sat at the heart of our home.

              Missionaries can be easily identified as 2 clean shaven young men wearing slacks, white shirts and a name badge replacing their first name with the title of Elder. It isn’t uncommon to see them with backpacks on and riding bikes to their next potential convert.

              Missionaries that had the greenlight from their ward bishop would then submit their paperwork and wait to be called to preach somewhere in the world. It was assumed that you would leave the states but it was common for people to serve missions stateside. Some would even serve in Salt Lake City, Utah. Not many converts to be had there.

              Cohabitation with another missionary was required and you were generally not allowed to be too far apart from one another. Woman were able to serve missions too but they predictably would be paired with other “Sister” missionaries to keep the parity.

              Sunday school lessons would always revolve around serving a mission and talking through the general lessons that would be taught to others.

              Lessons were not restricted to Sunday school. Summers were also spent learning and being exposed to skills that a missionary would need.

              Each summer my dad would take my brothers and I to a place called Camp Helaman. Heleman is “best known in LDS theology for leading into battle an army of two thousand young warriors, which he referred to as his two thousand sons.” Thanks Wikipedia. I think the general idea was that missionaries were on the front line of saving the souls of sinners in this historical moment that was soon to be the end of days.

              And it was these exact summer ventures that began to push me to be more critical of the choices that I was making.

              I enjoyed the social aspects of these camps. It was a privilege to be able to spend a week out in the forest learning new things. I remember trying to memorize important scripture passages, participating in mock missionary interactions and building community through service projects. It was overall a positive experience. I just was not feeling confident that this was something I wanted to do.