The Glass Palace, book review
The Glass Palace, by Amitav Ghosh
The Glass Palace has been on my bookshelf for long enough. There was always a book club book, or a different, more “fun” book to read in its stead. Until this past month. There is nothing quite as liberating as a break from work, and this 600 page ghost from my bookshelf reared its lovely head.
The Glass Palace is set in colonial Burma & India, starting in the late 1800s, and ends in the late 1900s. Growing up in India, we did learn quite a bit about India’s colonial history, but reading it from a Burmese perspective added a lot to my understanding of the condition of the subcontinent as a whole.
While the colonial forces thought of themselves as bringing “civilization” to their colonies, this was a folly in their estimation of the culture they were taking over. The home country was not without its own culture, politics, or civilization. It was likely different, but unlikely to have been worse in absolute terms. But really, colonization wasn’t an altruistic movement bringing western culture to people. It was, instead, an organized looting of the land, usurping of power, and getting away with theft on unimaginable scales, while the local people slowly learned to look away from, and normalize, what was happening to them.
Back to the book. It starts with the British overthrow of Thibaw Min, the last King of Burma, in late 1800s. King Thibaw, along with his family and some staff, is moved to Ratnagiri in India. He is confined away from the eyes of the Burmese to minimize the possibility of inciting revolution. Rajkumar, an orphaned Indian in Burma witnesses the caravan of the king as it leaves town. The story follows both the life of the royal family in India, as well as that of Rajkumar in Burma, until they intersect some 30 years later.
As we weave through Rajkumar’s life, we read more about how Indians from poor villages were brought in as indentured workers to work in plantations in Burma. The fertile lands of Burma are over time taken over by the British, using the wood – and later rubber – for their own purposes and pockets. The writing is simultaneously both unapologetic and kind in the treatment of the Indians, Burmese, and British in the story.
Over the decades, the book moves through Rajkumar’s life, his wife, and their children Neel & Dinu. Saya, a Chinese transplant in Burma becomes a mentor to the young Rajkumar, initiating him into the world of timber, and stands by his side as a father figure. We also get acquainted with Saya’s son Matthew, and Matthew’s family, as well as Uma, an Indian freedom fighter who forges a deep friendship with Rajkumar’s wife. Through the lives of these characters, the author weaves a family saga, challenging the definitions of home, love, ethnicity, and belonging.
Other major characters in the story shed light on Indians in the British Royal Army — how the royal army was able to segregate by state and caste to get the best use out of its Indian platoons, the small mutinies within the army, the pride the first Indian officers took in holding a job hitherto only held by the British. When you are an Indian in the Royal army, who are you fighting for? Are you fighting for the very people who deny you your freedom? The Indians who fought the Japanese during the second world war had to answer the question of whether there was anything in it for them whether the British won or the Japanese. Were they fighting for who they thought would be a more just ruler for their land? Or were they truly happy to fight for the British? Did those who defected to the Japanese side do it simply to spite the British, or because they though the Japanese might grant them their freedom back?
The incident that I had never heard of prior to reading this book is aptly named Forgotten Long March, where Indians from Burma fled by foot to India, to escape the Japanese army that had taken over control of Burma. Train routes had been earmarked for British only (to escape the Japanese invasion), and several easier routes closed off to Indians, leaving them a march through a few hundred miles of wilderness, to find their way to safety in India. Close to half a million Indians are estimated to have taken this path, with several thousands dying on the way.
The Glass Palace is an illuminating read, with beautiful descriptions of terrain, political climate, and character. While there was too much “family story” in some parts, overall the book held itself together, painting a picture of colonial times and ethnic conflicts in a manner that I have not encountered before. Definitely a good and worthy read.