The Vendor of Sweets represents India as a country whose national character is corrupted first by British colonialism and then by U.S.-dominated global capitalism. The novel takes place after British colonial rule in India has ended; its protagonist, Jagan, participated in the nonviolent independence movement led by Mohandas Gandhi (1869–1948). Yet the novel represents the Indian patriot Jagan as something of an outlier in a community largely comfortable with British cultural influences. For example, Jagan’s family insists he wear a British-style tweed suit when he gets married rather than a dhoti and jibba as he would prefer, and a statue of a (fictional) British colonizer Sir Frederick Lawley continues to stand in the square near Jagan’s house long after independence. Meanwhile, in the aftermath of Indian independence, the U.S. becomes another globally hegemonic cultural force interfering with India’s national character. While the older generation, represented by Jagan and his cousin, imagine the U.S. as a den of sin and injustice and so define India as good largely in contrast with wicked America, the younger generation, represented by Jagan’s son Mali, treats the U.S. and all it stands for as the future. As Mali sees it, the U.S. is a fount of progress and bounty, and so he insists on imitating what he perceives to be American cultural norms. In both cases, the novel represents India as struggling to define itself in the face of the UK and the U.S.’s inescapable, hegemonic cultural influences.
India vs. the U.K. and the U.S. ThemeTracker
India vs. the U.K. and the U.S. Quotes in The Vendor of Sweets
Everything in this house had the sanctity of usage, which was the reason why no improvement was possible.
“Writer” meant in Jagan’s dictionary only one thing—a “clerk”—an Anglo-Indian, colonial term since the days when Macaulay had devised a system of education to provide a constant supply of clerical staff for the East India Company. Jagan felt ghast. Here he was trying to shape the boy into an aristocrat with a bicycle, college life, striped shirts, and everything, and he wanted to be a “writer”! Strange!
“Did Valmiki go to America or Germany in order to write his Ramayana?” asked Jagan with pugnacity. “Strange notions these boys get nowadays!”
“They eat only beef and pork in that country. I used to know a man from America, and he told me . . .”
“They also take a lot of intoxicating drinks, never water or milk,” said the cousin, contributing his own bit of information.
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?”
Jagan asked, “Do you want to use this for writing stories?”
“Yes, I am also going to manufacture and sell it in this country. An American company is offering to collaborate. In course of time, every home in the country will possess one and we will produce more stories than any other nation in the world. Right now we are a little backward. Except Ramayana and Mahabharata, those old stories, there is no modern writing, whereas in America alone every publishing season ten thousand books are published.”
He went on talking and Jagan listened agape as if a new world had flashed into view. He suddenly realized how narrow his whole existence had been—between the Lawley Statue and the frying shop[.]
“Grace has been getting funny notions, that’s why I told you to pack her off, but you grudged the expenditure,” said Mali.
“That’s why I discouraged his idea of buying that horrible green car!” He vented his rage against the green automobile until the cousin interrupted, “A bottle could be sneaked in anywhere . . .”
“You don’t understand. It’s the motor car that creates all sorts of notions in a young fellow,” said Jagan[.]