Dystopia days

The chill factor of dystopian novels or films derives from their stark probability. The best of them seem prophetic and eerily proximate, because we see the germs of their horror in the cultural, technological and ideological trends of our times. We are fascinated by the disturbing vision of a society of the future, because we can feel it incubating right here in our midst.

Leila, the Netflix series streaming now, belongs to that genre of fiction. Directed by Deepa Mehta, and based on a novel of the same name by Prayaag Akbar, it is set in 2047 — a hundred years after India became independent — in a city rigidly segregated on caste and communal lines. This is Aryavarta, a walled-off well of orderliness, beyond which the under-castes huddle, eking out an existence amidst teeming filth and festering landfills. In Aryavarta (the name itself has suggestions of racial superiority), you are punished if you marry outside your community. As is Shalini, played with grim brilliance by Huma Qureshi. Her home is invaded, her Muslim husband beaten to death, and Leila, her little girl of “mixed” blood, snatched away.  

Shalini is sent to a reformatory where women who have flouted the cultural dictates of Aryavarta are made to atone for their sins in a multitude of dehumanising ways. It is from here that she begins her search for her daughter, navigating a world of labour camps and secret police, a world where children are brainwashed and raised as soldiers of the state.

In one of the early episodes of Leila, we see TV footage of the Taj Mahal being blown up while the leaders exult and cry “Jai Aryavarta”. The image sends a shiver down your spine. You are reminded that a vindictive, sectarian hate against this stunning Mughal monument to love is already clear and present in some quarters. 

Dystopian fiction blooms from these portents in the present. (The word ‘dystopia’, coined in the 18th century from Greek, literally means a ‘not-good place’, as opposed to ‘utopia’ — a ‘good place’.) In the early 20th century, communism and its quick descent into totalitarianism spawned such classics of the genre as Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (1936) and George Orwell’s 1984 (1949). Before them, there was Russian author Yevgeny Zamyatin, who wrote We (1921), a story about a society where individuality is stamped out, people have numbers for names, and are constantly surveilled by the state. 

Indeed, whether it is Ayn Rand’s Anthem (1938), Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (1953) or Margaret Atwood’s reproductive dystopia The Handmaids Tale (1985) or even Ira Levin’s thrillerish This Perfect Day (1970), nearly every dystopian novel evokes an apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic society where the state has absolute power over its people and keeps them docile and dehumanised — all in the name of a common good and a model social order. At the frightening heart of every dystopia lies someone’s disastrous idea of a utopia. 

Today, we live in a world that feels a lot like a dystopia already. We see liberal democracies ruled by dictatorial leaders, lies and fake information put out as truth, and the surveillance and manipulation of our lives and our choices through tech inventions like Facebook and Google. We see biology being tweaked and the creeping horrors of climate change. That is probably why the TV series Black Mirror seems almost like augmented reality — so many of its skin-crawling dystopian stories appear to be just a short step from today’s technological marvels and mass culture mores.

It’s the perfect climate for a dystopian work like Leila, and its cultural and political vision of India’s near future seems chillingly prescient. There is also a nod to imminent environmental crises — water is scarce in Aryavarta. And yet, Leila falters on many counts, not least because the show becomes increasingly simplistic, cartoonish almost, especially when it comes to the ease with which Shalini games the system. Surely the handlers of a police state ought to display a little more intelligence and a little less credulity?

I plan to read Prayaag Akbar’s book to find out if the original is free from such missteps and maintains narrative tension. One thing is certain: we shall see more dystopian novels coming out of India in the next few years. That is, unless they are banned and pulped for being seditious.

Shuma Raha is a journalist and author based in Delhi | @ShumaRaha