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Dystopian fiction mirrors our reality, from political turmoil to the rise of AI. Explore the impact on Indian literature and society in this in-depth analysis.

Dystopian fiction isn’t too far from our despaired reality

The Established speaks to writers, readers and critics of dystopian literature who have seen some of the fictional tropes play out in real life

Whether you’re a millennial doomscrolling through social media while tucked in a cosy couch or a Gen X serviceman browsing television channels after a taxing week of work, a heavy shroud of despair seems ubiquitous. Violence, mass murders, lawlessness, and intolerance dominate most parts of the globe as nations become more insular by the day. In a world grappling with a constant influx of negative reinforcements, the light at the end of the tunnel often seems distant. Real-world phenomena like the increasing influence of social media on societal norms and the erosion of privacy rights aid in building hyper-cautious social pockets, forcing governments to maintain stricter borders and less varied populaces. 

Skewed realities

Political tensions are now shapeshifting into a crisis of genocide. Since October 2023, the war-inflicted Gaza Strip has been razed to rubble by incessant Israeli missile attacks. The dangerous reality, frequently overlooked, is that various marginalised communities—which include scores of children—are facing ongoing systemic eradication. From the genocide targeting the Rohingyas in Myanmar to the mass killings in southern Sudan and identity-based violence against Ethiopian civilians, such incidents serve as stark reminders of the hellish nightmare we currently find ourselves in.

Even within Indian borders, the situation is bleak at best. With the recent establishment of Ram Rajya in Ayodhya, the world’s largest democracy proved to its people how religious fanaticism will shape its socio-political canvas for decades to come. Mammoth resources—both money and manpower—poured in from different parts of the country to obliterate the long-standing Babri Masjid, at the cost of destabilising the Islamic faction, which had long considered the site as a holy shrine. In fact, the aftermath of the Supreme Court’s 2019 verdict to demolish the mosque had far-reaching impacts that were felt in remote areas of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar where Muslim men were tortured but not before they were forced to cry out chants of “Jai Shri Ram.”

The emergence of the modern dystopian novel around the early 1900s coincided with a period marked by widespread political turbulence and a pervasive sense of global uncertainty. However, it wasn't until the publication of Yevgeny Zamyatin's We in 1921 that dystopian fiction began to take shape as a distinct genre. Prior to We, most narratives depicting an ideal society tended to conclude optimistically, with few exceptions such as the works of HG Wells and Jack London. Following We, dystopian fiction took a darker turn, characterised by unresolved endings and the portrayal of totalitarian governments run amok.

Zamyatin's novel also left a lasting impact on two seminal works in the dystopian genre: George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, both set against the backdrop of looming global conflicts. Although differing in their imagined futures, these works shared a common concern about the threats challenging a society. 

Political tensions are now shapeshifting into a crisis of genocide. Since October 2023, the war-inflicted Gaza Strip has been razed to rubble by incessant Israeli missile attacks. Image: Instagram.com/motaz_azaiza

Political tensions are now shapeshifting into a crisis of genocide. Since October 2023, the war-inflicted Gaza Strip has been razed to rubble by incessant Israeli missile attacks. Image: Instagram.com/motaz_azaiza

A genocide targeting the Rohingyas in Myanmar is among the many ongoing humanitarian crises the world has turned a largely blind eye to. Image: Instagram.com/the_myanmar_project

A genocide targeting the Rohingyas in Myanmar is among the many ongoing humanitarian crises the world has turned a largely blind eye to. Image: Instagram.com/the_myanmar_project

Another frontrunner of the genre is Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel The Handmaid’s Tale, which depicted a near-dystopian future where women are subjected to reproductive servitude—symbolised by their white-and-red garb, an image etched in people’s collective consciousness for over three decades. In Atwood’s words, the novel is a “speculative fiction,” which envisions future scenarios that could feasibly unfold without any significant technological advancements beyond our current capabilities.

But in 2024, writers confront the possibility of Artificial Intelligence (AI) surpassing the intellectual capabilities of its human creators, leading to irreversible dystopian consequences. Not that novels on the impact of AI have not been written before—Samuel Butler's 1872 novel Erewhon is one of the seminal works in the genre—but the implication of the changes have never felt more imminent. The fear of AI surpassing human intelligence and autonomy (known as the "singularity") is a recurring theme in dystopian literature. 

Ecological, humanitarian, or even socio-political strife aside, the world recently underwent a gargantuan “dystopia” that even the behemoths of 21st-century science and technology could not deter. The COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 brought with it a wave of mass extinction and medical vulnerability. The human race faced extreme psychological and physical decay during the aftermath of this virus attack. Understandably, then, society underwent changes that overturned the crux of human interaction. Real-time connections gave way to virtual exchanges; hospitals and caregiving could hardly face the intensity of mortality rates; personal health concerns took centre-stage and millions perished alone. 

Creating a history of the future 

Delving into the politics behind the concept of “dystopia,” Rimi B. Chatterjee, professor of English at Jadavpur University and author of dystopian and fantasy fiction says, “The problem lies in the way we define ‘dystopia’. One of the features of a non-free society is that it continually claims to be a ‘utopia’. In contrast, there may be dissenting voices who are being silenced to say ‘It is a dystopia’. This has been a major bone of contention throughout history.”

A major social indicator of any people is often the kind of content they consume on the daily. If one were to analyse recent pop culture trends, there is an evident acceptance towards dystopian fiction, both literary and on-screen, starting with several post-apocalyptic narratives in the last decade or so. From box-office giants like Mad Max, The Hunger Games, or even Divergent, to shows like Black Mirror, Snowpiercer, or Westworld, more and more viewers are gravitating towards such dysfunctional universes.

If one were to analyse recent pop culture trends, there is an evident acceptance towards dystopian fiction, both literary and on-screen

If one were to analyse recent pop culture trends, there is an evident acceptance towards dystopian fiction, both literary and on-screen

In the literary fiction landscape in India, titles like Prayaag Akbar’s dystopian novel Leila, Samit Basu’s Chosen Spirits, Sarnath Banerjee’s All Quiet in Vikaspuri, Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan’s Soft Animal, or Saudamini Deo’s translated works of Rajkamal Chaudhary’s Hindi short stories titled Traces of Boots on Tongue, all deal with the underlying theme of “fractured identities”. Each dystopia serves as a “history of the future.” Therefore, it's essential to consider its impact on literature, popular culture, and even political urgency. 

Banerjee’s grim graphic novel, All Quiet in Vikaspuri, based within the setting of a water-starved Delhi, is a telling example of such intricate world-building—one that resonates with the sense of doom the world is experiencing. The story tracks the odyssey of Girish, a psychic plumber, as he begins his quest for the legendary Saraswati river in order to halt the water conflicts in the city.

Interestingly though, Banerjee does not think his work can be categorised as dystopian fiction. “I would consider it as something akin to a Ulysses, a Homerian journey to the core of the earth to find a long-forgotten river. The modern-day Girish is kind of like Homer,” he claims. Yet, his novel deals with pivotal dystopian tropes of environmental degradation, governmental corruption, and erosion of democratic institutions. It even stitches a harsh critique that highlights the complicity of the middle class in perpetuating societal injustices.

Aligning with broader concerns 

However altruistic this may sound, Banerjee says he hardly approached the subject from a moralistic standpoint. “Many of my fondly-etched characters are often nefarious or dodgy. In fact, my books could be summed up as in the company of disreputable men and women. I seem to have a taste for such people. There is never a moral high ground (within the narrative). Most colourful of my characters are morally dubious. I try to look at people through the lens of sympathy and hence I feel like I’m one of them. Thus, I’m essentially writing about my class, my people, my circles.” Yet, Banerjee’s images and narrative draw a sincere picture of a struggling society. The novel's interplay with the themes of what Banerjee coins “short-termism” and corporate greed reflect broader concerns about the consequences of rapid economic development and globalisation. 

It wasn't until the publication of Yevgeny Zamyatin's We in 1921 that dystopian fiction began to take shape as a distinct genre

It wasn't until the publication of Yevgeny Zamyatin's We in 1921 that dystopian fiction began to take shape as a distinct genre

George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World are both set against the backdrop of looming global conflicts

George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World are both set against the backdrop of looming global conflicts

The vagueness in the timeline of All Quiet in Vikaspuri is further underlined through how Banerjee stylises his plot with the old-world charm of homegrown Indian fables while placing the narrative around menacing, current realities. Rajkamal Chaudhary approaches the same vagueness through his works but handles it in a completely different way. Translator Saudamini Deo admits that though she never imagined it could, Traces of Boots on Tongue fits perfectly well within the sub-genre of dystopian fiction literature. “For me, Chaudhary does not create a conventionally dystopian world about to face mass annihilation. His works reflect a dystopian universe in a more subtle, everyday manner—almost akin to a quotidian dystopia,” she says. 

Chaudhary penned his work during an era when India was in its infancy as a nation. Despite the nation's aspirations for a future brimming with hope and potential, those dreams seemed to be drifting farther away with each passing moment. As Deo articulates, it was a period characterised by a sense of desolation, where the concepts of god and morality had waned, and the yearning for them had all but vanished. Irrespective of any specific time or location, the everlasting sensation that the prosperity one was assured never truly materialises, is what makes his work relevant even today.

“Imagine India in 1947—it was a perfect example of a dystopic society. All resources had been drained; the Partition, identity crises, the Bengal famine, and a general sense of loss plagued the nation.” Chaudhary is placed well within this era of the late 1950s and ’60s. Deo feels Chaudhary’s works have a similar strain of tragic nihilism and are thus well-fitted for modern times—“just like the Greek tragedies of Euripides or works of Sappho are constantly read even today.” Therefore, one’s cultural memory, trauma, or resilience play a key role in shaping the societies built in dystopian fiction works.

Chatterjee makes a poignant addition, stating, “India has had isolated artists, writers, and commentators saying, ‘What’s presently happening in our country is really weird,’ but we have not had any unified movement against it. So we must put out mass-appeal stories that talk to young people and marginalised sections that haven’t ever had their narratives represented on large screens, and directly ask them, ‘Does this look like a dystopia to you? Because if it does, then your society is in deep trouble; let’s do something about it.’”   

In one of his stories within the collection, Chaudhary talks about a young artist looking for a government fellowship. The dynamic that the young student shares with his senior’s wife, while completely amoral, is interesting and central to the narrative. The story was a direct critique of the then government even though the concept of democracy was still very idealistic. Deo affirms this thought when she states, “Chaudhary, for me, was a way to understand life. I don't think he had an iota of faith in any government or social structure.” 

Real-world phenomena like the increasing influence of social media on societal norms and the erosion of privacy rights aid in building hyper-cautious social pockets, forcing governments to maintain stricter borders and less varied populaces. Image: Unsplash

Real-world phenomena like the increasing influence of social media on societal norms and the erosion of privacy rights aid in building hyper-cautious social pockets, forcing governments to maintain stricter borders and less varied populaces. Image: Unsplash

Life imitates art or art imitates life? 

Not only in terms of the themes, but Chaudhary’s works challenged norms in other ways too. Deo keenly points to Chaudhary’s treatment while writing. “In his short story titled Still Life,” says Deo, “he places the same paragraph (which depicts a man musing about random thoughts) both at the beginning and end of the story—hence, through this cyclical literary trope, he underscores how nothing really matters. That way, Chaudhary was very dystopian,” remarks Deo.  

Commenting on why Indian and global audiences are increasingly resonating with dystopian fiction, Deo says, “In many ways, the pandemic affected people across social classes and proved how life will gradually get more difficult to live. We’re right in the middle of late capitalism and there’s a sense of despair and hopelessness that has set in. Honestly, I'm not sure what is left to hope for. Across countries, classes, peoples and beliefs, there is a common fear of a bleak future. While our world gradually hurtles towards climate destruction, birth rates in Japan, South Korea and China plummet with each day. Hence humanity is now feeling the threat of extinction, whether it be physical or psychological—something that has never happened before,” notes Deo.

Similarly, Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan feels the consumption spike for dystopian fiction is a mere social pointer of the times. A self-proclaimed escapist when it comes to content consumption, Madhavan confesses she is happy with indulging in marathon watches of Gilmore Girls, The Office and Friends. But she is not oblivious to the obvious connection dystopian fiction has with current socio-political crises.

Madhavan’s book titled Soft Animal is placed smack in the middle of an uncomfortable COVID-19 lockdown and deals with a failing marriage. Madhavan chooses to underline the loss of empathy in a world coercing its citizens to survive at the cost of each other. Almost similar to a Modern Love setting, Soft Animal charts the central character Mallika’s familial journey as she navigates a universe consisting of a nonchalant husband (Mukund) and an interfering mother-in-law. While Mallika cleans up after Mukund, the latter is busy entertaining work and leisure calls on his laptop. She gradually begins introspecting the changes within her and realises she is a mere husk of her former self. Though not a dystopia per se, Madhavan’s work is a symbolic representation of a stoic world compelled to become more self-centred with the day. This continual numbing of our shock centres is crucial to Madhavan’s narrative. “When it was first categorised as a dystopia I was quite taken aback,” says Madhavan. “But I then realised that maybe there could be such a reading of Soft Animal. I suppose it’s difficult to recognise this fact when you are right in the middle of the dystopia yourself,” she says. 

Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel The Handmaid’s Tale depicted a near-dystopian future where women are subjected to reproductive servitude—symbolised by their white-and-red garb

Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel The Handmaid’s Tale depicted a near-dystopian future where women are subjected to reproductive servitude—symbolised by their white-and-red garb

It's essential to consider the  impact of dystopian narratives on literature, popular culture, and even political urgency. Image: Unsplash

It's essential to consider the impact of dystopian narratives on literature, popular culture, and even political urgency. Image: Unsplash

Madhavan knits a world where the clear strategy is survival of the fittest—a way of life that became imperative amidst the COVID-19 pandemic. “The fact that the pandemic wreaked havoc and humanity bounced back to normalcy within months after the third wave is also dystopic for me. Having said that, we have unknowingly adapted to changes via our private consciousness. For example, in the future, we might find a rise in the number of germaphobes and they would be justified in choosing that way of life,” says Madhavan. 

Connecting dystopian fiction to satire, Madhavan equates the two literary weapons. “The only difference between the two may be behind the fact that dystopian fiction is not usually trying to be funny. But both take societal problems and exaggerate them into a hyperbolic reality,” she adds. 

Literary tropes aside, the rising interest in dystopian fiction is inevitable. One of the major contributors is that creators have evolved their language of communication.

“NOW, WRITERS ARE COMPETING WITH ANGRY BIRDS AND CANDY CRUSH SAGA FOR EYEBALLS. SO IT’S ESSENTIAL TO WRITE STORIES FOR ‘NOW’. THE NARRATIVES HAVE TO BE STITCHED AT A LEVEL THAT THEY TALK TO VARIED DEMOGRAPHICS”

Rimi B. Chatterjee

Homegrown projects like Netflix’s survival drama Kaala Paani, or even tentpole projects like Kalki 2898 AD show a gradually-increasing creative bent towards the trope of dystopian fiction. Ideas and resources are thus being pumped into such storytelling only because production houses have the assurance that audiences would “lap it up,” so to speak. Meanwhile, global shows like The Last of Us or even Squid Games have managed to garner unprecedented eyeballs, evoking impassioned debates on social media platforms. Conversation in and around dystopian fiction has gradually become louder, with most resonating with the intense fatalism shown through such narratives. Madhavan succinctly encapsulates this thought by acknowledging that the concept of a post-apocalyptic future is not a fantasy anymore. “I’ve had quite a few discussions with friends about how we would prepare ourselves in the wake of a calamity,” she admits. “For future reference,” she quips, “the solution is Decathlon.” 

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