Film Screening—Deepa Mehta's Midnight's Children

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 Film Screening—Deepa Mehta's Midnight's Children



Introduction:

The film Midnight’s Children (2012), directed by internationally acclaimed filmmaker Deepa Mehta, is an ambitious cinematic adaptation of Salman Rushdie’s Booker Prize-winning novel of the same name (1981). The story blends history, politics, and magical realism, capturing the tumultuous journey of India from the moment of its independence in 1947 to the Emergency period in the mid-1970s.

Rushdie himself wrote the screenplay and narrates the film, ensuring a close connection between the source material and its visual representation. At its heart, the narrative follows Saleem Sinai, born at the exact stroke of midnight on 15th August 1947, whose life becomes mysteriously intertwined with the destiny of the nation. Along with other “midnight’s children” possessing extraordinary abilities, Saleem’s personal struggles mirror the hopes, conflicts, and transformations of postcolonial India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh.

Deepa Mehta’s direction combines vivid imagery, lush period settings, and elements of magical realism to translate Rushdie’s dense, layered prose into a visually compelling experience. The film explores themes of identity, memory, fate, and the complexities of cultural and political history, making it not only a work of historical fiction but also a meditation on the power of storytelling.

Salman Rushdie: Author

Salman Rushdie (born 19 June 1947, Mumbai) is an Indian-born British-American novelist best known for blending magical realism with historical and political themes. Educated in England at Rugby School and King’s College, Cambridge, he rose to fame with Midnight’s Children (1981), which won the Booker Prize and was later twice named the “Booker of Bookers” for being the best Booker winner in 25 and 40 years. His works often explore postcolonial identity, migration, and the clash between tradition and modernity, drawing on Indian history, mythology, and folklore.

Rushdie became the centre of global controversy with The Satanic Verses (1988), which led to a fatwa calling for his death by Iran’s Ayatollah Khomeini, forcing him into years of hiding. Despite threats and an assassination attempt in 2022 that left him partly blind, Rushdie continues to write, lecture, and advocate for freedom of expression. Knighted in 2007 for services to literature, his other major works include Shame, The Moor’s Last Sigh, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Joseph Anton, and Victory City.


A. Trigger Questions:

⇒ Who narrates history — the victors or the marginalised? How does this relate to personal identity?

In Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie turns the question “Who narrates history—the victors or the marginalised?” into the very heart of the novel. Traditionally, history is shaped by the victors, preserving their version of events while silencing or distorting the experiences of the powerless. Rushdie subverts this by giving the narrative voice to Saleem Sinai—not a political leader or conqueror, but a flawed, ordinary, and often unreliable witness whose personal life is entwined with the fate of the nation. His storytelling is fragmented, subjective, and infused with magical realism, reflecting how memory and personal bias inevitably reshape “official” history.

This has a direct connection to personal identity. Saleem’s sense of self is inseparable from India’s turbulent political landscape, yet his narrative shows that identity is not fixed by official accounts alone. It is constructed from individual memories, cultural inheritance, and the act of reclaiming silenced voices. By privileging the perspective of the marginalised over the victor’s authoritative version, Rushdie reveals that personal identity thrives in the gaps, contradictions, and counter-narratives that challenge dominant histories. In doing so, Midnight’s Children becomes both a rewriting of history and a declaration that identity is as much about the stories we choose to tell as it is about the events themselves.


⇒ What makes a nation? Is it geography, governance, culture, or memory?

In Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie suggests that a nation is far more than lines on a map or the machinery of governance—it is a living, shifting entity shaped by memory, culture, and the stories its people tell. Geography may define physical borders, and governance may enforce political order, but these alone cannot capture the soul of a nation. Culture—with its languages, religions, customs, and art—breathes life into it, while collective memory binds people together through shared triumphs, traumas, and myths.

Through Saleem Sinai’s personal narrative, Rushdie shows that India’s identity is inseparable from the memories of its people, even when those memories are fragmented, contested, or magical. In this way, a nation becomes not just a physical or political construct but a tapestry woven from countless individual experiences. It is sustained as much by imagination and storytelling as by borders and governments, making it something deeply human — fragile, resilient, and always evolving.


⇒Can language be colonised or decolonised? Think about English in India

In the context of Midnight’s Children and postcolonial India, language is both a tool of colonisation and a means of resistance. Under British rule, English became the language of administration, education, and elite culture, often positioned as “superior” to indigenous tongues. This linguistic hierarchy not only imposed colonial power but also shaped how Indians expressed identity, history, and thought. In that sense, language can be colonised — stripped from its native speakers’ control and used to reinforce domination.

However, as Rushdie’s own English prose demonstrates, language can also be decolonised. By infusing English with Indian idioms, rhythms, and cultural references, postcolonial writers reshape it into something hybrid — no longer the sole property of the coloniser, but a living medium for local expression. Rushdie calls this “chutnification” of English, turning it into a rich, spiced blend that carries the flavour of Indian experience. In this way, English in India becomes both a reminder of colonial history and a reclaimed tool for telling stories on one’s own terms, proving that even a colonised language can be remade into a voice of freedom.


2. Analysis Based on Film Observation


  • Opening Scene – Conflation of Nation and Identity in Saleem’s Narration

In the opening scene of Midnight’s Children, Saleem’s narration powerfully conflates the ideas of nation and identity. He is born exactly at midnight on August 15, 1947 — the precise moment India gains independence — fusing his personal beginning with the birth of the nation. Throughout his account, Saleem aligns his own life milestones with India’s political and cultural transformations, making his story a miniature reflection of the country’s journey. By presenting himself as a symbolic twin of India, he suggests that their destinies are inseparably intertwined. This connection is further reinforced through his shifting use of “I” and “we”, which blurs the boundaries between personal identity and collective national consciousness. His emotional experiences – joy, fear, and struggle – echo the triumphs and crises of the country, binding the fate of the individual to that of the nation.


  • How Does the Birth Switch Hybridise Saleem and Shiva’s Identities Biologically?

Saleem and Shiva’s births symbolise the hybridisation of identity on multiple levels:

Biologically:

  • Saleem is born with a mysterious connection to Shiva due to a midnight nursery mix-up, blending their genetic and physical identities in a literal, biological sense.

  • This accidental switch creates a hybrid identity where Saleem carries Shiva’s birthright and powers, while Shiva embodies Saleem’s social and familial background.

Socially:

  • Saleem grows up in a middle-class Muslim family, reflecting a particular cultural and religious identity, while Shiva is raised in a poorer, more violent environment, shaping a different social outlook.

  • Their switched-up upbringings create hybrid social identities that cross typical class and community boundaries.

Politically:

  • Saleem, connected to India’s independence, represents the idealistic, pluralistic vision of the nation — a hybrid of diverse cultures and histories.

  • Shiva, on the other hand, symbolises the more aggressive, fractured, and violent political forces in India.

  • Their intertwined identities mirror the complex political hybridity of postcolonial India, where personal and national identities are inseparable and constantly negotiated.


  • Saleem’s Narration – Trustworthiness and the Role of Metafiction
In Midnight’s Children, Saleem is not a neutral recorder of events but an active shaper of the story, and his reliability is deliberately ambiguous. He frequently admits gaps in his memory, alters sequences, and blends historical fact with personal myth. This self-confessed fallibility turns him into an unreliable narrator, compelling the audience to constantly question what is “true” and what is filtered through his emotions, biases, and imagination.

The film’s metafictional approach deepens this effect. Saleem draws attention to the act of narration itself — pausing to reflect on how he tells the story, addressing the listener directly, and acknowledging that he might be “reconstructing” rather than recounting events. This technique reminds us that both personal memory and national history are shaped narratives, not objective records.

By intertwining historical milestones with intimate family dramas, and by openly showing the seams of his storytelling, Saleem makes us aware that identity and history are created through selective memory, cultural imagination, and personal interpretation. The metafiction does not simply frame the story — it becomes part of the message, showing that truth in postcolonial India is always layered, contested, and deeply personal.


  • Emergency Period – Depiction of Democracy and Freedom in Post-Independence India

In Midnight’s Children, the Emergency period is portrayed as a dark rupture in the promise of post-independence democracy. The film suggests that the ideals of freedom, equality, and democratic governance — hard-won in 1947 — were compromised under authoritarian rule. Through images of forced sterilizations, mass evictions, and the silencing of dissent, the narrative shows how state power can override individual rights in the name of “national progress.”

Saleem’s personal losses during this time mirror the nation’s political regression, as the Emergency erases both his autonomy and the democratic freedoms that citizens were meant to enjoy. The film frames this era as a betrayal of the independence struggle’s vision, warning that democracy in India is fragile and must be actively protected from authoritarian impulses. In this way, the Emergency becomes not just a historical episode but a symbolic reminder that freedom can be dismantled from within.

  • Use of English, Hindi, and Urdu – Reflections on Postcolonial Linguistic Identity

In Midnight’s Children, moments where English blends with Hindi and Urdu reveal the hybrid, layered nature of postcolonial identity. Characters often shift between languages mid-sentence, a practice known as code-switching, which mirrors the multilingual reality of India. This blending subverts the colonial hierarchy that placed English above indigenous tongues, turning the language of former rulers into a tool for local expression and cultural assertion.

At times, English is used for authority, education, or formal occasions, while Hindi and Urdu dominate in emotional, intimate, or culturally rooted exchanges. This selective use challenges the idea of a “pure” language, suggesting that linguistic identity in postcolonial India is fluid, adaptive, and proudly hybrid.

By interweaving these languages in dialogue, the film reflects how Indians have “indigenized” English, infusing it with local idioms, rhythms, and imagery — a process Salman Rushdie calls chutnification. This not only resists linguistic colonialism but also celebrates a plural, inclusive identity that belongs equally to all the languages it embraces.


3.Group Discussion: Group-3


Chutnification of English – Rushdie’s Subversion and Postcolonial Identity

1. Rushdie’s Deliberate Subversion of “Standard” English

In Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie takes the language of the colonizer — English — and transforms it into something that no longer belongs exclusively to Britain. He does this through what he calls “chutnification”, the deliberate mixing of English with the sounds, rhythms, vocabulary, and idioms of Indian languages such as Hindi and Urdu. Just like chutney blends different ingredients into a unique taste, Rushdie blends languages to create a distinct postcolonial literary flavor.

Instead of adhering to “Queen’s English” grammar and vocabulary, he bends the rules. He invents compound words (angrezified, whatsitsname), inserts untranslated local terms (dukka, paise, chai), and replicates the speech patterns of Indian multilingual conversation. This challenges the colonial assumption that English should be “pure” and that indigenous languages must remain separate.

2. “Chutnification,” “Pickling,” and Linguistic Mixing

  • Chutnification: A metaphor for linguistic hybridity — Rushdie “spices up” English by mixing in local linguistic elements, turning it into something vibrant and culturally specific to India.

  • Pickling: In the novel, Saleem often compares storytelling to pickling — preserving memories, adding flavors, allowing them to mature over time. Linguistically, this reflects the preservation of Indian expressions within the framework of English.

  • Linguistic Mixing: The dialogue in Midnight’s Children often shifts seamlessly between English, Hindi, and Urdu. This code-switching mirrors real-life speech in India and undermines the hierarchy that once placed English above local languages.

3. Is English Still Colonial or Now Indian?

Still Colonial?

English remains associated with power, privilege, and the elite — a legacy of British imperialism. In education, law, and administration, it continues to carry a colonial residue.

Now Indian?

Through chutnification, English has been appropriated, re-shaped, and “Indianized.” It has absorbed local metaphors, grammatical rhythms, and cultural references to the point where it can express uniquely Indian experiences that British English never could. Rushdie’s writing proves that English is no longer simply a colonial imposition — it is a living, hybrid language that belongs to its speakers in India just as much as to its historical owners.

4. Creative Task – Example from Midnight’s Children

Here’s an excerpt from Midnight’s Children (Saleem describing Padma) — Book One, “The Perforated Sheet”, found around page 19–21 in the Vintage International paperback edition:

Rushdie’s Chutnified Version:

“Padma is thick-skinned, Padma is elephantine, Padma is also the goddess of dung. Without her I might forget that I am supposed to be writing a history. Padma the dung goddess, who opens her mouth so wide when she laughs that you can see right down into her stomach; Padma with her arms akimbo, Padma who says ‘So? Go on, na, finish it’ when I lose the thread.”

Standard English Translation:

“Padma is resilient, large-built, and plain-spoken. Without her, I might forget that I am meant to be writing a history. She laughs heartily, opening her mouth so wide that it seems one could see into her stomach. With her hands on her hips, she tells me, ‘Please continue and complete the story’ whenever I lose focus.”

5. What Is Lost in Translation?

  1. Cultural Humor & Earthiness

    • The playful exaggerations (goddess of dung, elephantine) convey rustic affection and earthy humor. In standard English, these become polite and flat, stripping away the cultural playfulness.

  2. Speech Rhythm & Intimacy

    • The tag “na” is untranslatable in its emotional tone — it is casual, urging, and intimate all at once. Removing it loses the conversational rhythm that anchors the moment in Indian oral culture.

  3. Character Voice

    • Padma’s personality emerges through her earthy language and gestural emphasis. Standard English makes her sound formal and restrained, erasing her vibrant working-class identity.

  4. Postcolonial Resistance

    • Rushdie’s chutnification is a political act — it refuses to bow to colonial linguistic purity. Translating it into “proper” English re-colonizes the language, undoing his subversive play.

6. Why This Matters

Rushdie’s chutnification does more than stylize prose — it embodies the postcolonial condition. It represents how people in India have not just inherited English but transformed it, bending it to express hybrid identities. It is both an act of cultural memory (preserving the rhythm of Indian languages) and of cultural resistance (rejecting the colonial model of English).


Conclusion:

The film Midnight’s Children, as interpreted through Deepa Mehta’s adaptation of Salman Rushdie’s novel, becomes a layered meditation on postcolonial identity, history, and the power of storytelling. By intertwining Saleem Sinai’s life with the fate of the nation, the narrative challenges the idea that history belongs only to victors, instead privileging fragmented, personal, and marginalised voices. The depiction of key historical events — from Independence to the Emergency — underscores both the fragility of democracy and the persistent negotiation between freedom and authoritarianism. Language plays a central role in this negotiation: the blending of English, Hindi, and Urdu, along with Rushdie’s “chutnification” of English, transforms the coloniser’s tongue into a uniquely Indian medium, rich with local idioms, rhythms, and humor.

Ultimately, Midnight’s Children shows that identity — whether personal, national, or linguistic — is never fixed, but constantly evolving through memory, hybridity, and cultural exchange. Both the story and its language serve as acts of reclamation, resisting the erasures of colonial history while celebrating the plural, contradictory, and vibrant realities of post-independence India. In doing so, Rushdie and Mehta remind us that freedom is sustained not only by political rights but also by the ability to tell one’s own stories in one’s own voice.



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