53 pages • 1 hour read
Mohsin HamidA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Mumtaz Kashmiri tells the story of her relationships with Daru and Ozi. First, she recalls meeting Ozi at a Halloween party in New York during college. While she is not interested in dating a Pakistani man—she believes they are likely too conservative for her—she is taken by Ozi’s affection: “And he was, is, the most romantic man I’ve ever met” (148). They marry quickly, and her family and friends believe she is extraordinarily lucky. Not only is Ozi handsome and devoted, but he is also wealthy.
Mumtaz realizes early on that she should not have married Ozi—or anyone, for that matter. She certainly knows that she should not have had a child. When she discovers she is pregnant, her initial instinct is to have an abortion, but Ozi’s enthusiasm finally erodes her resolve. Her pregnancy is filled with foreboding and nightmares, and her experience of mothering is difficult at best. She feels neglected by Ozi, badgered into working as a freelance writer from home, and bored by parenting. She starts drinking Scotch “during the day” (153) and hides her feelings from friends and family alike.
She starts to miss Lahore, and the family leaves New York. Still, Mumtaz does not find satisfaction, though having a nanny to care for Muazzam is a relief. The marriage continues to disintegrate, as Ozi’s mother belittles her and Mumtaz becomes more aware of the corruption that underpins the Shah family wealth. (For more on this theme, see The Price of Power: Privilege and Corruption.) She does not want to leave Ozi—mostly for her son’s sake—but she “[can’t] be just the good wife and mother anymore” (157). Thus, the affair with Daru begins. She wants a life separate from Ozi and Muazzam, from the Shah family. She creates the alias Zulfikar Manto; writing about serious subjects and important events taking place in her home city of Lahore helps her reclaim her own identity. These feelings, and that alter ego, also factor into the affair; it was a part of her liberation. However, she also admits that the relationship quickly becomes problematic.
Daru is driving to a college party to deal drugs. He is smoking a joint himself and thinking about Mumtaz. His reception at the party bothers him: The kid who pays for the drugs wants Daru to leave as quickly as he can. Daru again feels snubbed and returns home in a foul mood. When Manucci asks for his pay, Daru threatens to strike him but holds back, barely. Instead, he decides to roll a joint with some heroin mixed in; he calls his concoction “hairy” (161). He enjoys the effect, and time slips effortlessly away.
Manucci wakes him the next evening, telling him that Mumtaz is there. This is the only thing that can rouse Daru from his stupor. He and Mumtaz talk about the impact of the nuclear tests and how the banks have frozen all foreign currency accounts; in the guise of Zulfikar Manto, she is writing an article about this. She asks Daru if he has ever considered finishing his PhD, but he says no. Daru thinks about telling her about his heroin use but decides not to. They again make love, and when he wakes up, she is gone.
Daru’s uncle is worried about him, which only irritates Daru. He has stopped looking for a job; the economic downturn associated with the nuclear testing has affected employment—at least, this is what he tells his uncle. He finally admits to Mumtaz that he has tried heroin; she is shocked and insists that he never do it again. Their affair continues, and he falls ever more deeply in love. Mumtaz tells him that she thinks she is a bad mother; he protests, but she claims that their affair is proof. They both believe that “Ozi still doesn’t know,” but Daru reflects that Ozi was a bully as a child and now has the power to get what he wants “done and done quietly” (173). He starts thinking about borrowing Murad Badshah’s gun.
Daru attends another party, thrown by an old school friend, and runs into Ozi. Things are awkward between them, but not confrontational, so Daru still believes Ozi does not know about the affair. Daru is enjoying himself when an old friend asks if it is true that he sells hash. Daru is angered and ashamed. Still, when he gets a call from a young man called Shuja the next day, he agrees to sell him some hash. Even Manucci begs him to quit selling, which only enrages Daru. He slaps Manucci “with all [his] strength” and leaves (178). When Daru returns, Manucci has gone.
A few days later, Shuja calls again, asking Daru to come to his house with more drugs. When Daru arrives, he is surprised: The house is a full-blown compound, guarded by men with beards. It turns out that Shuja has told his fundamentalist father about the drugs, and the guards beat him severely. At the hospital, the doctors suggest that Daru is lucky to be alive. Daru claims he was in an automobile accident.
Ozi introduces himself in this chapter, telling his version of events. He admits that he is not always a likable person, and he confesses to participating in his father’s corrupt business practices without guilt. Ozi claims that Daru would have gotten nowhere—no education, no opportunities—were it not for his father, Khurram Shah. Daru is ungrateful, from Ozi’s point of view. He also wants the audience to know that Daru is a hypocrite: Before Mumtaz left him, he recounts, she took in Manucci, Daru’s former servant, who was beaten by Daru. Ozi asserts that this proves Daru’s violent nature, as well as his hypocrisy.
Ozi then tells a story of two little boys, Ro and Lain (short for Hero and Villain), who became best friends before jealousy and betrayal intervened. Ozi has seen Mumtaz and Daru together, witnessing them in the act of making love through an open window. He has also discovered that his wife is writing under the pseudonym Zulfikar Manto. But he says nothing to either of them about what he knows—and Mumtaz nevertheless leaves him. Thus, Ozi confesses that he is not at all sorry to see Daru on trial for the death of the boy.
Daru heals, slowly and painfully, from the attack. Mumtaz cares for him as best she can when she visits. When he is alone, he uses heroin and tries to kill the moths that gather around the candles. He is still without electricity. On his 29th birthday, Mumtaz visits, and they talk about wishes and Ozi. Mumtaz notices how bitter Daru is about Ozi’s wealth. She repeats her fears about being a bad mother. Daru believes that the two of them are like moths circling the flame, though Mumtaz warns him about saying such things.
The monsoon brings rain and flooding, as well as the realization that Manucci is not coming back. Daru will have to learn to care for himself. His resentment about his predicament hardens; he wants revenge for his pain. At the same time, Mumtaz begins to pull back from the relationship; she reminds Daru that she is married and has a child. This angers Daru, who lights up a heroin-laced joint in front of her. She is angered that he has continued to use heroin, and the drug makes him reckless. He tells Mumtaz that she is a bad mother, since she would rather be with Daru than with her son. Mumtaz leaves, and when Daru awakes, he finds that she has left him some money in his wallet. This only strengthens Daru’s resolve to mete out what he considers justice.
He goes to Murad Badshah and says that he is ready for whatever scheme the rickshaw driver has in mind. They are going to rob a designer boutique, and Murad needs Daru because of his respectable look: “You can walk into a boutique without arousing suspicion,” he tells Daru (214). Murad makes the plans, while Daru smokes and kills moths. After Daru has his cast removed, Murad takes him out for practice with the gun. Daru is not very skilled, but he likes feeling the power of the gun in his hand.
Daru passes the time in a daze; his aunt and uncle are concerned about him, but he brushes it aside. He goes to the movies—in what used to be a grand cinema, during his parents’ day—and a young bearded man tries to get him to come to a religious service. Daru says he is not a believer. Mumtaz finally returns, only to tell Daru that the relationship is over. In his anger, Daru tells Mumtaz that Ozi killed a boy with his car. After she leaves, Daru thinks that Muazzam is the only thing keeping her with Ozi. If only Muazzam were not around, Daru could have Mumtaz for himself.
The day of the robbery arrives. Murad is worried about Daru’s instability; it is clear that Daru’s drug addiction is taking its toll. Daru experiences “fear stronger than the hairy can hide” (231). Still, they go through with the deed. Daru puts a gun to the security guard’s head, which signals Murad to come in and take valuables and money from the clientele. A young boy “who looks like Muazzam” runs for the door, and Daru raises his gun. There is a loud sound, and the glass in the front door cracks. Daru wonders, “Was that me?” (233).
Here again, while Daru narrates his story as if nobody is reading it, the other sections are self-consciously aware of the audience: Hence, in Mumtaz’s account of events, she directly addresses an unspecified “you,” as does Ozi in his chapter, ironically entitled “The Best Friend.” It is notable that Mumtaz, as a woman, gets her own voice; she has agency over how her own character is perceived. Further, that voice is an emphatic one: “I’m going to tell my story my way,” she tells her audience (147). Her story, as she tells it, is a search for an identity that has been lost in her function as “The Wife and Mother”—another ironic chapter title, as Mumtaz will eventually relinquish both of those roles.
She loses herself in what she sees as the mundane existence of caretaking—caring for her husband as well as her child. Instead of bringing her satisfaction and happiness, these roles demand that she sublimate her real self and her actual desires in service of the family: “I’d never been ashamed of anything I’d done in my life. But this wasn’t something I’d done. This was me. Not an act but an identity. I disappointed me, shamed me” (154). Mumtaz’s act of betrayal is not so much in having an affair with Daru as it is in denying her authentic self. She finds herself, ironically, in the writing that she does under an assumed identity. Becoming Zulfikar Manto liberates Mumtaz from her self-inflicted alienation: “Zulfikar Manto received death threats and awards. And the more I wrote, the more I loved home. I was back, I was finding myself again, and I was being honest about things I cared for passionately” (158). Ultimately, for her, the affair with Daru is a distraction, a way to put distance between herself and the needs of her family.
For Daru, however, the affair looms large in his imagination. It coincides with his descent into dangerous drug use, illegal drug dealing, and aggrieved delusions about what he deserves. When the college kids at the party “think of [him] as a chaperon or a servant” (161), he takes his anger out on his own servant, Manucci. When Manucci appropriately asks for his pay, Daru threatens to strike him, then justifies it: “Servants have to be kept in line” (161). The chip on his shoulder is quickly deepening, and his sense of persecution grows as his drug addiction escalates. Directly after he threatens Manucci, he tries the heroin-laced joint—what he calls “hairy”—for the first time. The next evening, he catches Manucci talking with Mumtaz as if they were equals, and this chafes at Daru’s misplaced sense of propriety: “I don’t like it when the boy forgets his place. It makes me look bad, as though I’ve fallen so far my servant thinks there’s no longer any need for him to behave formally” (164). This criticism is coming from a man who has taken to dealing and using hard drugs, as well as engaging in an extramarital affair. His ego swells as his standards fall.
He begins to treat Mumtaz as his possession; the more she asserts her independence, the more he tries to dominate her—just as he does with Manucci. He boasts, “I think it’s safe to say Mumtaz is already at least a tenth mine” (171), and he obsessively counts their hours together. It would seem, in a twist of fate, that Daru is repeating mistakes of the past: There are hints that his mother and Ozi’s father were engaged in an extramarital affair when he was a boy. This perhaps explains why Khurram Shah is invested in Daru’s education and continuing success. Thus, Daru’s nostalgia about his boyhood experiences with Ozi is always tinged with jealousy—even if he does not always acknowledge the source. Certainly, he is envious of Ozi’s wealth and the ease with which he moves through life, banking on his privilege. But it is also that there was something about the way in which “Khurram uncle […] touch[ed] my mother’s elbow” that bothered him as a boy (168). This is intertwined with his ineffective attempts at social climbing. At the parties thrown by former school friends, he finds his own current reality as an unemployed drug dealer crashing into his nostalgia about the past. He is exposed—“Is it true you’re selling charas [hash] now?” (176)—and shamed. His shame hardens into bitterness and resentment and fuels his recklessness.
When Ozi gets his brief say about events, his overwhelming sense of entitlement cements his self-professed villainous status. He is unapologetic about helping his father in his corrupt business dealings: “He wanted his piece. And I want mine” (184). When telling the story of his boyhood friendship with Daru, Ozi casts himself as “Lain,” short for Villain, and Daru as “Ro,” short for Hero. This seems odd, at first, given that Ozi knows about Daru’s betrayal with his wife and that Ozi feels Daru’s arrest is just. However, it discloses the fact that Ozi knows the truth: that Daru is on trial for a crime he did not commit. Ozi is aware, even if he presents it in a self-mocking manner, that he is implicated in the trial taking place in the interstices of the narrative.
Indeed, the events surrounding the climactic robbery marking the nadir of Daru’s descent are opaque. It is clear that Daru and Murad rob the boutique, taking money and jewelry from the establishment and customers alike; however, the gunshot that goes off during the escapade may or may not have come from Daru’s gun. The reader sees his hand raise, but Daru himself questions whether or not he fired: “Was that me?” (233). When Murad tells his version of events in Chapter 6, he claims, “It happened when I turned my back on him” (70). Thus, Murad is not an eyewitness (nor is he a reliable narrator). Further, Daru will recall later, as the two are driving away from the scene of the crime, that his hearing is impaired by a gunshot “fired close to my ears” (237). This implies that the shot was fired from behind him, or next to him, not from his extended arm.
By Mohsin Hamid