In The Vendor of Sweets, fear destroys people’s ability to communicate. Its protagonist Jagan consistently fails to communicate openly and honestly because he fears anger and rejection. For instance, early in the novel, Jagan’s 20-year-old son Mali announces that he no longer wants to go to the Indian college he has been attending. Jagan, baffled, is speculating Mali’s possible motives with his cousin when the cousin suggests that Jagan just talk to Mali about Mali’s motives directly. Instead of taking this advice, Jagan uses flattery to convince the cousin to find out Mali’s motives for Jagan. Jagan continues to refuse to confront Mali directly about his choices, and he continues to ignore his cousin’s advice and insight in favor of direct communication. Jagan’s failures to communicate out of fear extend so far that eventually, he disappears on a religious retreat rather than try to find out why Mali has been arrested for alcohol possession.
Nor is Mali the only person with whom Jagan fails to communicate out of fear. Jagan wants to establish a loving and familial relationship with Grace, the young woman whom Mali brought home from America. When Jagan discovers that Grace and Mali are not married, as Mali initially claimed, and that Mali is trying to send Grace back to America, Jagan attempts to have an honest, affectionate conversation with Grace—yet as soon as Grace becomes emotional, Jagan gets frightened and decides to flee rather than get to the bottom of Grace and Mali’s conflict. As the novel ends, Jagan concedes that Grace is a “good girl” whom he and his family have a duty to treat right—yet he says this not to Grace herself but once again to his cousin, whom he relies on as his intermediary. Through Jagan’s repeated unwillingness to communicate directly with Mali and Grace, the novel illustrates how a fear of direct communication, and a subsequent unwillingness to communicate directly, leads a person so sabotage their relationships.
Communication vs. Fear ThemeTracker
Communication vs. Fear Quotes in The Vendor of Sweets
Even with the passage of time, Jagan never got over the memory of that moment. The coarse, raw pain he had felt at the sight of Mali on that fateful day remained petrified in some vital centre of his being. From that day, the barrier had come into being. The boy had ceased to speak to him normally.
“I hate to upset him, that’s all. I have never upset him in all my life.”
“That means you have carried things to the point where you cannot speak to him at all.”
Gradually his reading of the Bhagavad Gita was replaced by the blue airmail letters.
The only letter Jagan rigorously suppressed was the one in which Mali had written, after three years’ experience of America, “I’ve taken to eating beef; and I don’t think I’m any the worse for it. Steak is something quite tasty and juicy. Now I want to suggest why not you people start eating beef? It’ll solve the problem of useless cattle in our country and we won’t have to beg food from America. I sometimes feel ashamed when India asks for American aid. Instead of that, why not slaughter useless cows which wander in the streets and block traffic?”
Prayer was a sound way of isolating oneself—but sooner or later it ended: one could not go on praying eternally, though one ought to.
“If you meet her, tell her that if she ever wants to go back to her country, I will buy her a ticket. It’s a duty we owe her. She was a good girl.”