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53 pages 1 hour read

Mohsin Hamid

Moth Smoke

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2000

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Symbols & Motifs

Professor Julius Superb

The absurdly named Professor Julius Superb crops up at unexpected times throughout the novel like a red herring—though his insights illuminate some of Daru’s underlying motivations, albeit from an academic distance. Professor Julius Superb is not, strictly speaking, a character in the novel. The reader reviews his ideas and opinions in articles and interviews, passed along secondhand; consequently, he functions more as a symbol than as a personality. Daru was once a student of the professor, and he tells Mumtaz the history behind the unusual name: “His great-grandfather was the batman of a Scottish officer who tried for years to get him to convert. When the Indian Mutiny broke out, the old Scot wound up with a knife in his chest. Julius’s great-grandfather came to him on his deathbed and said he'd decided to become a Christian” (30). Upon hearing this, the officer pronounced the decision to be “Superb”; thus, the name originates from a colonial conversion story. The legacy of colonial influence on the Indian subcontinent reverberates down to Daru’s day.

Mumtaz then introduces Daru to an article by the professor, entitled “The Phoenix and the Flame.” Using the myth of the phoenix—who dies and is reincarnated in a burst of flames—Superb analyzes the message inherent in the myth. Essentially, the article ponders whether “fire might be purificatory” or, conversely, “a manifestation of entropy” (31). That is, does the phoenix reincarnate into some more redemptive state, or does it instead decay a little with each reincarnation, withering away until there is nothing left? This foreshadows Daru’s own trajectory, burned by the dual flames of sex and drugs; the question of whether the experience makes Daru more resilient or more damaged remains open at the end of the book, but the article proffers the potential for hope.

Superb also has the dubious distinction of introducing Daru to Murad Badshah, as he is a regular rickshaw customer of Murad’s. The professor pontificates on air-conditioning (for more, see below) as a marker of social class in a lecture presented to the court at Daru’s trial. There are the “haves,” who are cooled, and the “have-nots,” who remain hot and sweaty: “You see, the elite have managed to re-create for themselves the living standards of say, Sweden, without leaving the dusty plains of the subcontinent” (102). This describes the distinction between Ozi, who luxuriates in his air-conditioning, and Daru, who goes without since losing his job. It also implicates Ozi—as if his time in America did not already—in an allegiance to the West, to former and current imperial powers, rather than to the East and home. Murad, true to form, “was never very fond of ACs” and enjoys “the distress of the rich” when load-shedding interrupts the electrical grid (103-04). Thus, he and Superb are at least partially aligned in their critique of Pakistan’s vast social and cultural divide between the wealthy few and the impoverished many.

The Theater of Trial

Daru’s trial is presented to the reader as an entertainment or an allegorical play—the clear implication being that it is merely a “show trial.” The guilt or innocence of the accused is irrelevant; the purpose of the process is to put the reader in the judge’s robes, as it were. Ultimately, no verdict is rendered within the novel; the reader must decide for themself whether Daru is guilty or not. The omniscient narrator describing the courtroom portrays it like a theatrical play: “The cast begins to enter, filing into this chamber of dim tube lights and slow-turning ceiling fans” (7). After the main cast arrives, the courtroom fills with spectators, “their diversity the work of a skilled casting director” (7). Even the title of the chapter that introduces the trial resonates with theatrical nomenclature: “Judgment (Before Intermission).” Not only does the title emphasize the staged nature of the trial, but it also implies that judgment has been reached “before intermission,” before the arguments are fully heard. The trial itself symbolizes the corruption endemic to the political system, as well as serving to implicate the reader in Daru’s fate.

To emphasize the theater of the trial is also to indicate the falseness of the testimony. Chapter 14 begins by highlighting its pageantry: “The actors sit upright in these, the final moments of the trial” (234). If those who have borne witness to the events are mere actors, then their testimony is immediately called into question. This also validates Daru’s arguments—summarized by the prosecutor—that those testifying have been bribed into accusing him. In the final scenes from the courtroom, the author clarifies beyond a doubt that the reader must deliver the verdict; it will not come from the main players: “[O]ne by one the other actors in this drama turn to you. The audience awaits. The director bites his nails. Critics and producers will judge your decision” (236). Ultimately, “someone hisses from offstage” (236), nudging the reader—the only (potentially) impartial witness—to determine Daru’s guilt or innocence.

Nuclear Testing

A notable backdrop to the events of the novel are the nuclear tests both India and Pakistan perform near each other’s borders. Historically speaking, these tests were highly controversial: Both nations developed nuclear capabilities outside the agreement of the international Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (see Background: Socio-Historical Context). In terms of the novel, the nuclear tests serve as a symbol of the increasingly fractured relationship between Daru and Ozi, as well as the widening gulf in Pakistani society between the rich and the poor.

Murad Badshah notes that the timing of the nuclear tests allowed him to move forward with his plan for armed robbery: “It was a summer of great rumblings in the belly of the earth,” he tells the reader, “of atomic flatulence and geopolitical indigestion, consequences of the sectarian chickpeas by our famished and increasingly incontinent subcontinent” (63). In his baroque but striking metaphor, Murad emphasizes the political tensions of the time: India and Pakistan have only been distinct nations for 51 years by the summer of 1998, and Pakistan has gone through a civil war 27 years previously, leading to the independence of Bangladesh. Thus, the populace is uneasy about the possibilities for warfare, and the resulting economic fallout following the tests makes Murad certain that his robberies of the rich will be celebrated by the poor. In the aftermath of Pakistan’s test, Murad declaims, “This nuclear race is no joke. Poor people are in trouble” (134). The economic fallout from the test instigates inflation and freezes foreign aid, which exacerbates the conditions of those living in poverty most of all.

Daru and Ozi both discuss the tests at various times in the novel. Daru is certain that Pakistan will go through with a nuclear test once India has done so; Pakistan must prove itself to be India’s equal, just as strong and independent, prepared for battle. This echoes Daru’s own struggles to prove himself to his wealthier, more socially privileged cohort; his embattled position fuels his ambition—though ultimately in self-destructive ways. Later, after Daru has witnessed the hit-and-run accident committed by Ozi, he is furious about his friend’s lack of concern over the fate of the boy. Daru credits Ozi’s callous reaction to his privilege, his inherited sense of entitlement. After Daru wanders back home, weathering a short and unsatisfying storm, he is reminded of the nuclear tests: “They say the nuclear tests released no radioactivity into the atmosphere. Each a huge gasp, smothered unsatisfied” (100). Coming on the heels of what Daru has witnessed, this mirrors the test of friendship that the two young men now face. The fallout may not be radioactive here either, but it will be profoundly life-changing for both, as Daru faces trial and Ozi loses his wife—and his lifelong friend.

Heat, Dust, and Air-Conditioning

The pejorative trope of ever-present heat and stifling dust runs throughout colonial and postcolonial literature: It is hot and dry in the marginalized colonies, and the perspectives of the former colonizers are now adopted by the independent residents. Heat often signifies the perceived laziness of Indigenous peoples, while dust often symbolizes the dirtiness of the faraway place and, by extension, its inhabitants. In this novel, both often serve to denote social class. For example, when Daru still has electricity, he catches his servant, Manucci, sleeping in the house: “He loves to sleep in the living room when the air-conditioning is on, and I don’t blame him, because the servant quarters are too hot in the summertime” (42). Thus, when Daru loses his job and cannot afford the electric bill, the implication is that he is now a socioeconomic par with his servant. This explains, at least in part, why Daru treats Manucci so harshly.

During Professor Julius Superb’s lecture, recounted in the courtroom at Daru’s trial, Superb suggests that the social classes of Pakistan are neatly divided into those with air-conditioning and those without. Thus, the wealthy classes, while ethnically and culturally diverse, “are united by their residence in an artificially cooled world” (103). In contrast, heat and dust are for the disenfranchised, the marginalized poor. Superb calls these people—which now includes Daru—“the great uncooled” (103), echoing the pejorative phrase “the great unwashed” to describe the mass of lower classes. He goes on to suggest that, should the rich think about these sweaty masses, these air-conditioned privileged few can assuage their consciences by remembering that “there is always prayer, five times a day, which they hope will gain them admittance to an air-conditioned heaven, or, at the very least, a long, cool drink during a fiery day in hell” (103). The professor’s jovial provocation—he walks away from his lecture with a smile on his face—effectively highlights the immorality of such a wide gap in resources.

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