Postcolonial Interventions, Vol.

IX Issue 1

Silent Witness and Suffering Waters:

Environmental and Cultural Trans-
formations along the Meenachal
River in Arundhati Roy’s The God of
Small Things
Harjot Banga

Introduction

In India, the landscape and its constituent elements hold

profound religious significance, being venerated and re-
vered as corporeal manifestations of a transcendental
and imperceptible divine realm. Within this intricate tap-
estry of spiritual beliefs, a multitude of associations and
symbolic connections are meticulously woven into the
fabric of Indian culture, revealing the intrinsic relation-

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 Postcolonial Interventions, Vol. IX, Issue 1

ship between the terrestrial world and the metaphysical.

A remarkable facet of this symbolic interplay is the pro-
found connection between various animals and deities
within the Indian pantheon. For instance, the serpent
finds its sacred association with Lord Shiva, the god of
destruction and transformation, symbolising the cyclical
nature of life and death. Conversely, the humble mouse
is inextricably linked with Ganesha, the elephant-head-
ed deity renowned as the remover of obstacles and the
patron of intellect. Moreover, the regal lion is emblem-
atic of the formidable goddess Parvati, epitomising her
fierce and protective nature as she combats evil forces .
However, it is not solely the animal kingdom that exem-
plifies this spiritual symbolism. Rivers, coursing through
the subcontinent’s terrain, are also elevated to the sta-
tus of the sacred. These bodies of water are accorded
the divine honour of bearing feminine names, reflect-
ing the nurturing and life-giving qualities they embody.
Amongst these revered rivers, the Ganga stands as the
most illustrious and iconic. For millennia, the Ganga has
been revered as the holy conduit that seamlessly bridges
the realms of the earthly and the divine, bestowing spiri-
tual purification upon those who immerse themselves in
its sacred waters. In this way, it transcends its physical ex-
istence to symbolise the profound connection between
the mortal realm and the transcendent spiritual reality,
reaffirming its pivotal role within the spiritual and cul-
tural landscape of India. As underlined aptly by Steven
Darian in his work, The Ganges in Myth and History,

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 Postcolonial Interventions, Vol. IX Issue 1

Ganga has played a vital role in Hindu ceremony: in

rituals of birth and initiation, of marriage and death.
As a goddess, she has moved among the great celes-
tials of Hinduism: at times the child of Brahma, the
wife of Shiva, the metaphysical product of Vishnu,
or mother to the Vasus and to Karttikeya, god of
war (Darian 1978, XV).

The enduring reverence for Nature as a living entity in

Indian culture transcends the conventional human-cen-
tric viewpoint. Furthermore, Indian mythology and im-
agery have long imbued Nature with human-like quali-
ties, elevating it beyond a mere backdrop and into the
realm of sentient presence. Consequently, Nature not
only serves as an environmental canvas but also silently
witnesses the unfolding narratives of History and sto-
ries. Darian underlines that “even as the face is seen re-
flected in a mirror, the Soul perceives itself in the still-
ness of Nature” (Darian 1978, 8). This profound insight
underscores the intimate connection between the hu-
man soul and the natural world, where Nature acts as a
reflective surface, mirroring the essence of the soul in its
serene and unadulterated state. In the context of Indian
thought, this perspective elevates the natural realm to
a higher plane of consciousness, wherein it becomes a
repository of collective memories, history, and timeless
stories.

The cultural perspective in India regards Nature as a

sentient entity, shaped by mythology and symbolism.

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This viewpoint enriches ecological discourse and un-

derscores the profound interconnectedness between
humans and the natural world. Nature, as a silent yet
profound witness, embodies a repository of experienc-
es, memories, and spiritual reflections integral to India’s
rich heritage. However, this indigenous human connec-
tion with Nature faced significant disruptions in history.
The advent of machinery marked the initial compromise
of this connection, while subsequent obliteration was
orchestrated by colonisers, inspired by the European ad-
age “The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters.” In the
specific context of this paper, focused on India, we turn
our attention to the British Empire, operating through
the East India Company, which implemented strategies
to exploit natural resources and labour. It is imperative
to note that this exploitation failed to generate wealth
for local regions but rather established subsistence econ-
omies. Resources were undervalued until further up the
supply chain, serving primarily the profit-driven inter-
ests of corporations involved in their extraction, as ar-
ticulated by Castellino.

This exploitation does not generate wealth for the

areas, but creates subsistence economies where the
extracted resource was not valued until much high-
er up in the supply chain, and then only to generate
profits for the corporations that exploit it (Castellino
2020, 584).

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Furthermore, the author highlights the instrumental

role of legal frameworks in establishing sovereignty for
the purpose of systematic resource extraction—an ap-
proach closely aligned with British colonisation in India,
where similar mechanisms were employed to advance
colonial interests and economic exploitation (Castellino
2020, 583-585).

Following this introduction, the subsequent discussion

in this paper is dedicated to a focused exploration of
the river Meenachal’s active role and its eventual demise
within the well-known literary work The God of Small
Things by Arundhati Roy. This paper particularly under-
scores the river’s profound significance as an anti-colo-
nial symbol in the narrative, serving as a silent witness to
both a tragic death and a transgressive love story. Addi-
tionally, this study will demonstrate the strong connec-
tion between humans and non-humans throughout the
narrative. To substantiate the central thesis, this analysis
employs the perspective of material ecocriticism, a crit-
ical framework that ascribes agency and significance to
inanimate entities.

The epistemological challenge: western and indig-

enous knowledge perspectives

Within Indian culture, inanimate entities transcend their

inert existence, taking on the semblance of living bod-
ies. This distinctive worldview prompts a reevaluation of

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conventional paradigms rooted in rational and scientific

observation, ushering in a broader perspective marked
by the intrinsic vitality that permeates these objects. In
this cultural framework, the boundaries between the
living and the non-living dissolve, fostering profound
interconnectedness that challenges the limitations of
empirical analysis. In their work, Material Ecocriticism, Se-
renella Iovino and Serpil Oppermann stress that

…all matter, in other words, is a ‘storied matter.’ It is

a material ‘mesh’ of meanings, properties, and pro-
cesses, in which human and nonhuman players are
interlocked in networks that produce undeniable sig-
nifying forces (2014, 1 and 2).

This perspective invites contemplation of existence be-

yond mere materiality and encourages exploration of
the profound vitality imbued within, enriching our com-
prehension of the world and our role within it. Indeed,
delving into the epistemological dimension becomes
imperative for a meaningful exploration. Here, a com-
parative analysis between Western scientific knowledge
and indigenous knowledge, particularly within the Indi-
an context, emerges as a pivotal avenue for a more pro-
found grasp of the non-Eurocentric perspective.

Indigenous knowledge, as elucidated by Mistry (2009,

371), is characterised by its remarkable qualities: it is
context-specific, collective, holistic, and adaptable. In

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sharp contrast, Western knowledge finds its foundation

in rationality and science, with an unwavering commit-
ment to objectivity. Indigenous knowledge is rooted in
the profound essence of ‘knowing how,’ a fundamental
departure from the Western knowledge paradigm that
predominantly revolves around ‘knowledge of’ or ‘knowl-
edge about.’ This fundamental difference not only under-
scores the unique nature of indigenous knowledge but
also highlights its transmission across generations. It
is conveyed through various captivating forms of oral
traditions, among which “local songs, stories, and oth-
er performance traditions” (Ross et al. 2011, 32) hold a
prominent place. This method of knowledge transmis-
sion serves as a powerful vessel, preserving the enduring
interconnection that exists between humanity and the
non-human world. It also nourishes the deep spiritual
ties between the earthly and the spiritual realms. In this
indigenous epistemology, dreams and non-replicable
communications from the ancestors are judged to be
intensely meaningful; deep connections to specific land-
scapes and people are judged to be more important than
relationships or understandings of the land in general
(Ross et al. 2011, 52).

This profound perspective encapsulates the essence

of indigenous knowledge, where the intimate bonds
with the land, the ancestors, and the spiritual realm
take precedence over generalised relationships or ab-
stract understandings of the natural world.

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It becomes evident that the non-human world possesses

its inherent vitality, thereby warranting equitable treat-
ment. To achieve this, it is imperative to grant agency
to the non-human entities. Indeed, as articulated by Se-
renella and Oppermann, contemporary perspectives ac-
knowledge that “things and nonhumans in general are
no longer seen as mere objects, statically dependent on a
subject, but as ‘full-fledged actors’” (2014, 4). This para-
digm shift reflects a growing awareness of the dynamic
and participatory role that non-human entities play in
shaping our living world: “The world’s vibrant materi-
ality appears as a “web teeming with meanings” [...], in
which humans, nonhumans, and their stories are tied to-
gether” (Serenella and Oppermann 2014, 5). Hence, the
adoption of the material ecocriticism approach becomes
essential for a more nuanced analysis of literary texts, in
this case, that of The God of Small Things. In this context,
it is pertinent to provide a concise definition of material
ecocriticism:

Material ecocriticism, within this expansive frame-

work, encompasses the examination of how material
entities such as bodies, objects, elements, hazardous
substances, chemicals, organic and inorganic matter,
landscapes, and biological entities interact among
themselves and with the human dimension. These
interactions engender complex configurations of
meanings and discourses that can be interpreted as
narratives (Serenella and Oppermann 2014, 7).

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This “nonanthropocentric approach” (Serenella and

Oppermann 2014, 2), as a critical perspective, engages
in a comprehensive exploration of matter, encompass-
ing its dual existence within textual narratives and as
a self-contained text in its own right. It seeks to delve
deeply into the intricate and dynamic relationship be-
tween embodied natural elements and the discursive
forces that shape their interaction. Whether manifested
through representations within literary works or realised
in the tangible realm of concrete reality, the nonanthro-
pocentric approach endeavours to unveil the multifacet-
ed ways in which these elements converge and engage
with one another. It offers a profound examination of
how the tangible and the textual, the corporeal and the
linguistic, intertwine to construct a broader narrative of
our relationship with the environment and the natural
world, transcending anthropocentric perspectives (Se-
renella and Oppermann 2014, 7).

The gradual demise of the River Meenachal in The

God of Small Things

In light of the preceding discussions, where a nonanthro-

pocentric approach is applied to explore the interplay
between materiality, narrative, and nature, it is essential
to substantiate this theoretical framework. To achieve
this, Arundhati Roy’s renowned novel, The God of Small
Things, published and winner of the Booker Prize in
1997, will serve as a pertinent and illustrative reference

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point. Within the pages of this famous work, the gradu-

al decline of nature, specifically of the river Meenachal,
unfolds as a direct consequence of the events occurring
within the Ipe family and, concurrently, as an indirect
result of historical events inexorably tied to the legacy
of colonialism.

The narrative of the twins’ family, Rahel and Esther,

predominantly unfolds within the confines of the village
of Ayemenem, situated in the state of Kerala. Notably,
the early years of these siblings transpire in close prox-
imity to the Meenachal River, which flows adjacent to
their residence. Similarly, the life story of their moth-
er, Ammu, a divorced woman residing in her paternal
home, is intricately interwoven with the presence of this
river. It bears witness to the poignant love affair between
her and Velutha, an untouchable Paravan. The Meen-
achal River thus assumes a central and symbolic role in
shaping the lives and experiences of these characters,
symbolising a profound connection between human ex-
istence and the natural world. The God of Small Things
bears a resemblance to Patrick White’s unfinished novel,
The Hanging Garden, where Eirene Sklavos and Gilbert
Horsfall, two children, seek refuge in a garden during the
tumultuous backdrop of the Second World War. Sim-
ilarly, in Arundhati Roy’s narrative, the twins and their
mother find sanctuary by the Meenachal River, a haven
from the complexities and turmoil within their patriar-
chal and chauvinist family dynamics. Indeed, the area

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surrounding the river serves as a metaphorical garden,

or better a garden-river—a space wherein societal norms
and constraints need not hold sway. This setting epito-
mises a period when, as Roy (1997) vividly articulates,
“the unthinkable became thinkable and the impossible
really happened” (31). It is within this realm that the
concept of the Love Laws is introduced—a set of reg-
ulations dictating whom one should love, how to love,
and to what extent. However, it becomes evident that
these laws, despite their apparent practicality, are subject
to the complexities of a world that often defies such
rigid prescriptions (Roy 1997, 33). Indeed, Doris B. Wal-
lace, in her astute observation, accentuates the signifi-
cance of the garden as a haven:

Perhaps it is the freedom to be as one is, not as one

‘should’ be, that makes the garden and its privacy
so important. For children, the natural world is free
from the adults of the world and the demands they
impose (Wallace 1988, 144).

Here, within the garden’s embrace, a child can revel in

unrestrained liberty, nurturing their imagination devoid
of the incessant vigilance of parents and free from the
constraints of conformity. This space represents a world
apart from the home, meticulously constructed and
dominated by adults, where every facet is subjected to
their authority.

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In this context, the river assumes the role of an in-

structive nurturer, silently imparting to the twins the
indispensable indigenous wisdom required for survival
in their village life. It serves as an unconventional yet
effective teacher, guiding them through invaluable les-
sons. Within its tranquil depths, the twins encounter the
unspoken pleasures of underwater foraging, discovering
essential sustenance. They gain proficiency in the art of
fishing, learning to thread sinuous purple earthworms
onto hooks adorning fishing rods expertly crafted by Ve-
lutha, employing slender culms of yellow bamboo. The
river becomes a realm where they become adept in the
language of Silence, a skill akin to that of the Fisher
People’s offspring, as they acquaint themselves with the
vibrant dialect of dragonflies. Here, they cultivate the
virtues of patience, observation, and introspection, a ca-
pacity to formulate thoughts without verbalising them.
They also hone their agility, swiftly reacting when the
pliant yellow bamboo bows downward (Roy 1997, 203).
Their understanding of the river’s geography is culti-
vated through experiential learning, a concept akin to
Heidegger’s notion of Erlebnis, or lived experience (Väy-
rynen 2021, 90). Their knowledge of the river’s course
can be summarised as follows:

So this first third of the river they knew well. The

next two-thirds less so. The second third was where
the Really Deep began. Where the current was swift
and certain (downstream when the tide was out, up-

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stream, pushing up from the backwaters when the tide

was in). The third third was shallow again. The water
brown and murky. Full of weeds and darting eels and
slow mud that oozed through toes like toothpaste.
The twins could swim like seals and, supervised by
Chacko, had crossed the river several times, returning
panting and cross-eyed from the effort, with a stone,
a twig or a leaf from the Other Side as testimony to
their feat. But the middle of a respectable river, or
the Other Side, was no place for children to Linger,
Loll or Learn Things. Estha and Rahel accorded the
second third and the third third of the Meenachal the
deference it deserved. Still, swimming across was not
the problem. Taking the boat with Things in it (so
that they could Prepare to prepare to be prepared)
was” (Roy 1997, 203-204).

If we envision the landscape of Ayemenem village from

an aerial perspective, a discernible division emerges, de-
marcated by the presence of the river. On one side of
this watercourse lies the familial residence, while on the
opposing bank stands the History House—a dwelling
steeped in profound symbolism, epitomising the en-
during legacy of colonialism and the historical atroci-
ties it embodies. This interpretation aligns with Estha
and Rahel’s perception, as detailed by Roy (1997), that
the house Chacko referred to was located on the other
side of the river, within the abandoned rubber estate.
This house was associated with Kari Saibu, known as the
Black Sahib—a figure who had “gone native,” adopting

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Malayalam language and mundus, and eventually met a

tragic end through suicide. This property became em-
broiled in lengthy legal disputes after the suicide, but the
twins, despite not having visited it, could vividly envision
the History House, Ayemenem’s equivalent of Kurtz’s
Heart of Darkness. It was a place shrouded in mystery,
having lain empty for years, with few having laid eyes on
it. It encapsulated the essence of the historical narrative
(Roy 1997, 52 and 53).

An air of danger pervades both sides of the river and

within its waters, with neither bank providing absolute
security. However, it is in the area around the river or
within the river’s waters themselves that a semblance of
safety can be found. On either bank of the river, the
spectre of oppression looms, compelling the innocent
souls—namely, the twins and their mother—to seek ref-
uge. In this context, the river, while embodying a nurtur-
ing maternal aspect, assumes a maternal fate itself, des-
tined for an inevitable demise catalysed by two pivotal
events: the tragic passing of Sophie Mol on one hand,
and the illicit love affair between Ammu and Velutha on
the other. These two events set the stage for, on the one
hand, the expulsion from the garden-river, and on the
other hand, culminate in the arrest and subsequent death
of Velutha at the hands of the police force. This intri-
cate relationship between the river and the human drama
it bears witness to aligns with Sofia Cavalcanti’s concep-
tualization. Drawing upon the insights of Marie Louise

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Pratt, Cavalcanti characterises the locale surrounding the

river, as well as the river itself, as a “contact zone” (Cav-
alcanti 2021, 56). This term designates a space where
geographically and historically distinct groups converge,
establishing sustained interrelations with one another. In
essence, it signifies a dynamic nexus where the bound-
aries of separation are transcended, fostering complex
interactions and enduring connections (Cavalcanti 2021,
56). This contact zone serves as the juncture where the
Western and Eastern worlds converge, where the touch-
able and the untouchable intersect. The river assumes
a profound significance, embodying primordial vitality
and silently bearing witness to the chronicles of History
and stories—a presence that predates the arrival of the
white colonisers, or the white sahibs. It possesses a sa-
cred essence, yet it is also touchable in a sacred manner.
From a broader perspective, the river within the land-
scape adopts the form of a snake, a protective serpent
that, unlike its venomous counterparts, cradles its chil-
dren, akin to a mother’s nurturing embrace, when they
approach or immerse themselves in its waters. However,
this maternal guardian, this protective snake, is fated for
demise as mentioned before. Its impending fate is inex-
tricably intertwined with the narrative’s central themes.

Sophie Mol’s death: the erosion of imperialist and

colonizing perspectives

The narrative unfolds with the inaugural event that

strains the rapport between humanity, represented by

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the Ipe twins, and the natural world, embodied by the

Meenachal river. Estha and Rahel, the Ipe twins, are ‘di-
zygotic’ twins, arising from separate yet synchronously
fertilized eggs, with Estha being the elder by eighteen
minutes (Roy 1997, 2). Their parentage arises from a dis-
solved marital union: Baba, their father, is a business-
man, while Ammu, their mother, embarks on a forbid-
den romance with Velutha, an untouchable, following
her divorce from her husband. It is against this backdrop
that the twins encounter their half-English, half-Indian
cousin, Sophie Mol, the daughter of Chacko and Marga-
ret Kochamma, upon her arrival in India. The introduc-
tion of Sophie Mol into this intricate familial web adds
layers of complexity to the evolving dynamics, marking
a significant juncture where human relationships and na-
ture converge. She employs imperial and discriminatory
language towards the twins, her cousins: “You’re both
whole wogs and I’m a half one” (Roy 1997, 16). The way
she talks represents the manifestation of her own inter-
nalised racism and self-hatred. By employing the deroga-
tory term “wog,” she seeks to demean and dehumanise
them. Furthermore, her character embodies multiple di-
mensions within the narrative, representing the white,
the different, the anti-colonial, and anti-indigenous per-
spectives. She serves as a poignant symbol of the endur-
ing legacy of British colonialism in India. Her worldview
is profoundly influenced by the racist and paternalistic
attitudes prevalent among the British colonialists. Being
a mixed-race baby girl, Mol occupies a complex social
position characterised by privilege and oppression. On

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the one hand, her whiteness affords her a higher social

status compared to the Indian characters in The God of
Small Things. On the other hand, her illegitimacy marks
her as an outcast within both the white and Indian com-
munities, exemplifying the intricate interplay of identity
and discrimination in the colonial context. She embodies
the role of “the uneasy inheritor of an imperialist dis-
course that threatens to proscribe their own distinctive
hybridizing experience of India in all its rich and unruly
complexity” (Tickell 2020, 10). Her character encapsu-
lates the complex tension between her inherited imperi-
alist worldview and the intricate, multifaceted reality of
India’s cultural fusion.

Sophie Mol’s exclusion is further exemplified when she

accepts her cousins’ invitation for a river excursion in
a small boat, which tragically capsizes, resulting in her
drowning. Initially, she perceives the surrounding nature
as unfamiliar, alienating, and primarily estranging: “So-
phie Mol was more tentative. A little frightened of what
lurked in the shadows around her” (Roy 1997, 291).
These words bear a resemblance to those spoken by
Marlow in Heart of Darkness, a novel by Joseph Conrad,
as both Marlow and Sophie Mol find themselves on a
vessel in unfamiliar territories, each grappling with their
own distinct challenges and encountering the complex-
ities of the landscapes they navigate. In this critical mo-
ment, the river assumes an anti-colonial role, metaphor-
ically “biting” or resisting the imposition of the colonial
vision upon the pre-existing landscape. However, the na-
tive and indigenous, as represented by the Ipe twins, re-

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tains its essential humanity and innocence, as they go to

great lengths to rescue their young cousin from the per-
ilous waters: “It was four in the morning, still dark, when
the twins, exhausted, distraught and covered in mud,
made their way through the swamp and approached the
History House” (Roy 1997, 293). This poignant episode
stresses the resilience and compassion of the indigenous
characters in the face of adversity and tragedy, contrast-
ing with the oppressive colonial presence. Furthermore,
if we examine the predicament of Sophie Mol’s bio-
logical mother, Margaret Kochamma, who endured the
loss of her husband, Joe, she embarked on a journey to
India in search of solace but found herself bereft of
everything, including her cherished daughter. “She had
come to Ayemenem to heal her wounded world, and had
lost all of it instead. She shattered like glass” (Roy 1997,
263). Yet, it becomes evident that contemporary India
can no longer offer the same assurances of wonder and
happiness as it did during the era of imperial British rule.
The stark contrast between the colonial perception of
India as a place of wonder and fulfilment and the chal-
lenges faced by individuals like Margaret underscores
the shifting dynamics and complexities of the modern
Indian landscape.

The forbidden love between Ammu, a touchable,

and Velutha, an untouchable

The second episode delves into the ostensibly “impossi-

ble” love affair between Ammu and Velutha, a relation-
ship deemed unlawful according to the moral and soci-

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etal code deeply ingrained in Indian culture. This code

finds its roots in the Manusmriti, or Laws of Manu, which,
despite contradicting most of the principles enshrined
in the Indian constitution, continues to influence and
shape the conduct of many individuals across India. The
ill-fated lovers, Ammu and Velutha, become victims of
this code, both at the familial and societal levels. How-
ever, it is noteworthy that, on a legal front, only Velutha
faces punishment due to a fabricated lie orchestrated by
Baby Kochamma and Mammachi and conveyed to In-
spector Thomas Mathew.

Velutha faced persistent discrimination due to the caste

disparity, a poignant irony as his name, “Velutha,” mean-
ing “White” in Malayalam, starkly contrasted with his
actual dark complexion. This discrimination was deeply
rooted in his caste identity, as his father, Vellya Paap-
en, belonged to the Paravan community (Roy 1997, 73).
From a young age, Velutha began labouring at the “Par-
adise Pickles & Preserves” factory, which was overseen
by the Ipe family. Their interactions were relegated to
the back entrance of the Ayemenem House, where they
delivered coconuts harvested from the estate’s trees.
The Ipe family, like much of the society at the time, har-
boured a deep-seated prejudice against Paravans, and
they were prohibited from entering the house or touch-
ing anything that had come into contact with the Touch-
ables, including Caste Hindus and Caste Christians.
Mammachi, recalling her own girlhood, recounted the

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extreme segregation enforced during that era: Paravans

were once expected to move in reverse, using a broom
to erase their footprints to ensure that Brahmins or Syr-
ian Christians did not inadvertently defile themselves by
stepping into a Paravan’s footprint. These oppressive
norms dictated that Paravans, like other Untouchables,
were not allowed on public roads, could not cover their
upper bodies, and were forbidden from carrying um-
brellas. Even when they spoke, they had to shield their
mouths, redirecting their breath away from those they
addressed (Roy 1997, 73 and 74). This historical account
underscores the profound systemic discrimination faced
by individuals from marginalised communities during
that time.

Despite the prevailing discrimination, Ammu found her-

self captivated by Velutha’s physique, integrating him as
an integral element in her dreams. She envisioned the
contours of Velutha’s abdomen, the muscular ridges,
becoming taut and rising beneath his skin, resembling
the divisions on a slab of chocolate (Roy 1997, 175 and
215). As time elapsed, their clandestine meetings contin-
ued to unfold. Particularly noteworthy is the culmination
of their love story in the final chapter of the novel, The
'Cost of Living', where their union transpires along the
banks of the Meenachal garden-river, illuminated by the
moonlight. This pivotal moment unfolds with the river
and some other natural elements, such as the weeping
bamboo tree, as silent witnesses (Roy 1997, 335), mark-

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ing the profound crossing of the boundary separating

the touchable and the untouchable. The resulting union
carries an air of serenity and, simultaneously, an over-
whelming sense of awe (Roy 1997, 337).

They stood there. Skin to skin. Her brownness

against his blackness. Her softness against his hard-
ness. Her nut-brown breasts (that wouldn’t support
a toothbrush) against his smooth ebony chest. She
smelled the river on him (Roy 1997, 334 and 335).

This climactic scene symbolises the defiance of societal

norms and the profound connection between Ammu
and Velutha.

In addition to the various natural elements, Velutha’s

own father, Vellya Paapen, inadvertently becomes a
witness to “Every night. Rocking on the water. Empty.
Waiting for the lovers to return” (Roy 1997, 256). In his
inebriated state, he discloses these nightly occurrences
to Mammachi and Baby Kochamma, who exploit this
information to concoct baseless allegations against Ve-
lutha. These fabricated charges result in Velutha being
wrongly accused of the alleged rape of Ammu, leading
to his arrest by the police. Tragically, Velutha falls vic-
tim to brutal beatings within the confines of the His-
tory House, ultimately succumbing to his injuries. After
Velutha’s tragic death, Estha is compelled to depart for
Madras by the Madras Mail train, joining his father.

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The death of the River Meenachal

These pivotal events entail departures that herald sig-

nificant transformations: Velutha’s tragic demise, Estha’s
journey to reunite with his father, Rahel’s relocation to
the United States of America, and Ammu’s solitary ex-
istence. These departures instigate profound alterations
within the landscape, particularly along the banks of the
Meenachal River. While these characters inhabited the
idyllic garden-river, the river itself flowed in harmonious
accord with its natural surroundings. However, as they
depart, the tranquil environment gradually succumbs
to the encroachment of artificial and estranging influ-
ences. This shift becomes strikingly evident when the
twins revisit their childhood village of Ayemenem and
embark on nostalgic walks through the landscapes of
their youth. Both of them discern a desolate landscape,
marked by the river’s plight as it bears the consequences
of human actions.

Estha’s exploration of the river reveals a grim transfor-

mation, where the once-vibrant waterway now languish-
es in a state of deterioration, tainted by the odious pres-
ence of pesticides and devoid of its once-thriving fish
population. In this altered landscape, the river’s waters
have lost their former vitality and charm, transforming
into a desolate and contaminated environment. As Estha
traverses the riverbanks, he encounters the acrid scent
of waste and chemicals procured through World Bank

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loans, witnessing firsthand the devastating impact of hu-

man intervention on the natural world. The surviving
fish bear the scars of fin-rot and painful boils, emblem-
atic of the river’s decline. Alongside this environmental
degradation, Estha’s passage also encompasses a journey
through the changing social and economic dynamics of
the region, as exemplified by the juxtaposition of newly
constructed, ostentatious houses fueled by Gulf money
and the older, envious residences clinging to their pri-
vate domains (Roy 1997, 13 and 15). These shifts re-
flect the broader transformation of the landscape, from
a once-thriving ecosystem intertwined with human lives
and experiences to a deteriorating, almost alien terrain
that mirrors the disintegration of cherished memories
and connections.

Years later, when Rahel revisits the Meenachal River,

she encounters a dismal transformation too. Downriv-
er, a saltwater barrage, a political compromise brokered
for the benefit of influential paddy farmers, has altered
the river’s fate. This barrage now regulates the inflow
of saltwater from the backwaters, enabling two rice har-
vests per year but at a significant cost to the river’s vital-
ity. Once a grand and imposing presence, the river has
dwindled into a feeble semblance of its former self—a
meagre, swollen drain, its thin, sluggish waters listless-
ly brushing against muddy banks, occasionally revealing
lifeless fish beneath its surface. A suffocating weed has
ensnared its waters, with brown roots resembling under-

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water tendrils. Bronze-winged lily-trotters cautiously tra-

verse its surface. The river, once an imposing force capa-
ble of shaping destinies, has lost its vigour and become
a stagnant, green expanse burdened with foul debris
destined for the sea (Roy 1997, 124-126). Furthermore,
swimming in the once-inviting waters of the Meenachal
River had become a distant memory as children would
defecate at its edge, their waste left on the muddy river-
bed. In the evening, the river carried away their offerings,
leaving a scummy residue. Upstream, people washed in
clean water, but downstream, the smell of waste hung
over Ayemenem. Therefore, “No Swimming signs had
been put up in stylish calligraphy” (Roy 1997, 125). The
once-feared river is now a mere shadow of its former
self. Hence, one can assert that the Meenachal River and
its ecosystem have undergone a definitive demise. In ef-
fect, the twins no longer encounter the serenity of their
childhood but are met with a landscape characterised by
aridity and desolation.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the Meenachal River serves as a poignant

symbol of interconnectedness between human narra-
tives and the natural world, exemplifying a profound and
intricate relationship. Through the lens of the river, we
witness the unfolding of human stories, most notably
the tragic demise of Sophie Mol and the forbidden love
shared between Ammu and Velutha. These narratives are

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intrinsically woven into the river’s own journey, reflect-

ing how human and non-human stories are inextricably
entangled. The river, once teeming with life and vitali-
ty, undergoes a profound transformation, mirroring the
shifts in the lives of those it touches. Its gradual death
signifies a broader ecological and cultural decay, illustrat-
ing the far-reaching consequences of human actions on
the natural world. In conclusion, we have to say that the
Meenachal River’s demise is emblematic of the intricate
web of existence, where the fates of both human and
non-human entities are intricately intertwined, echoing
the profound interconnectedness of all life.

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