Moth Smoke

Moth Smoke is written from the perspective of several different first-person narrators, plus an omniscient narrator who recounts resonant historical events and oversees the trial sections. It is also written using several different frameworks, including a journalist’s interview and evidence introduced into court. It employs theatrical devices during the trial chapters, and the first-person narration provided by Daru may, in fact, be an article ghostwritten—by a journalist later revealed to be his best friend’s wife—from his point of view. While these disparate methods tackle different angles regarding the central action, they cohere into a cohesive narrative about the particular events and entanglements that lead to the dissolution of the main character, Daru. Specifically, these various methods are utilized to position the reader as judge. Ultimately, the reader must assume the responsibility of deciding Daru’s fate—the author defers, or insists upon it, by leaving the trial unfinished.

The different points of first-person view, aside from Daru’s, include a chapter told from the perspective of Murad Badshah, Daru’s drug dealer and criminal partner; two chapters told from the perspective of Mumtaz Kashmiri, Daru’s lover and best friend’s wife; and a chapter told from the perspective of the best friend, Ozi Shah. These different points of view beg the question of to whom the characters are speaking: They all address an unspecified “you,” who is to bear witness to their version of events. The inclusion of the events of Daru’s trial suggests that these first-person narrations are the characters’ testimony during the trial. However, their accounts go far beyond what would be considered admissible or relevant to the specific matter of whether Daru killed a boy in a hit-and-run accident. Thus, just as the author indicates that the reader is the judge at the trial, so can the reader be implicated as the unspecified “you” in these personal accounts. Murad, Mumtaz, and Ozi are trying to convince the reader of their own relative guilt or innocence in the events leading up to Daru’s downfall.

The omniscient narrator who oversees the trial also provides a short prologue and epilogue, which deal with historical events involving actual figures who serve as numerous characters’ namesakes. This frame effectively conflates the modern characters with the events of an epic, imperial past; thus, Daru’s trial is the equivalent of the historical Darashikoh’s fall from grace and eventual execution at the hands of his brother, Aurangzeb. Ozi, too, is responsible for Daru’s legal predicament—if not for his other unethical actions (the affair, the drugs). The author therefore turns a domestic drama—a love triangle inevitably gone wrong—into an epic spectacle. The trial itself is saturated with the language of theater, and the interview with Professor Julius Superb emphasizes the sensational aspects of the trial, as well.

Finally, a twist is revealed near the end of the book: Daru’s first-person chapters may, in fact, be written by Zulfikar Manto, the pen name used by Mumtaz Kashmiri. These are the only chapters wherein the narrative is not specifically addressed to anyone; they are simply recalling events as they unfold. This has two effects: First, the reader questions the fullness of the account, if not the veracity of it. If this is Mumtaz’s perspective on Daru’s thoughts, then it might be only a “half-story,” as Daru himself labels it (245). Second, it again begs the question of to whom those chapters are addressed. For if there is no audience accounting for his innocence, then Daru is, indeed, destined to be found guilty.