While historical allusions are fairly sparse in "When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine," the few references to historical figures supply Lilia’s narrative with crucial geopolitical context. The first of such instances takes place at the dinner table:
During the commercial my mother went to the kitchen to get more rice, and my father and Mr. Pirzada deplored the policies of a general named Yahyah Khan.
The second happens after Mr. Pirzada has returned to Dacca:
The new leader, Sheikh Mujib Rahman, recently released from prison, asked countries for building materials to replace more than one million houses that had been destroyed in the war.
These allusions help tether Lilia’s narrative more closely to time and place. “When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine” may follow the lived experience of a brewing conflict, but the recognizably “historical” details about the Bangladesh War of Independence take place mostly along the story’s peripheries. Perhaps understandably, Lilia’s child-like state of ignorance may be to blame. Looking back, she admits that the conflict was filled with “intrigues I did not know, a catastrophe I could not comprehend.” She only briefly explains the devastation in Dacca in the first pages and tucks in most of the conflict’s key facts towards the end of the story.
As a result, these highly specific names furnish a fraught subtext to Lilia’s understandably childlike observations. Yahyah Khan, Pakistan’s then-president, was the chief architect of a brutal genocide that killed roughly three million Bangladeshi people. The other mentioned figure is associated with a story that is equally bloody. Despite becoming Bangladesh’s president and later prime minister, opposition leader Sheikh Mujibar Rahman—along with family and personal staff—would be assassinated in a military coup. Mention of these two people likely suggests that conflict can never be fully disentangled from horrific violence and cruelty.
To a predominantly western audience, these allusions also challenge the tidy narratives of American exceptionalism. Most readers are unaware of these two names and, by bringing them up, Lahiri forces American readers to do some research in order to follow along. The allusions distinguish Bangladeshi independence from the tropes of America’s founding that color Lilia’s schooling. Rather than being spoon-fed tropes of independence and freedom, these unfamiliar names encourage American readers to seek out the answers for themselves.