Assignment paper no 203 : “Racism and the Psychology of the Colonised: Identity, Resistance and Subjectivity in The Wretched of the Earth.”

  Assignment paper no 203 : “Racism and the Psychology of the Colonised: Identity, Resistance and Subjectivity in The Wretched of the Earth.”

Personal Information:-

Name:- Bhumi Mahida
Batch:-  M.A. Sem 3 (2024-2026)
Enrollment Number:- 51082240017
E-mail Address:- bhumimahida385@gmail.com
Roll Number:- 2

Assignment Details:-

Topic:- “History as Narrative: Saleem Sinai’s Memory-Making and the Politics of Truth in Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children”
Paper & subject code:-Paper 202: Indian English Literature – Post-Independence
Submitted to:- Smt. Sujata Binoy Gardi, Department of English, MKBU, Bhavnagar
Date of Submission:- 

Table of Contents :

Abstract
Keywords
Introduction
The Colonial World & the Making of the Colonised Subject
Psychic Impact: Identity, Inferiority Complex & Mental Health
Resistance, Subjectivity and the Re-Making of the Colonised Agent
Conclusion

Abstract :

Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth (1961) remains one of the most powerful examinations of how colonialism deforms both the political and psychological landscapes of the colonised world. This paper explores Fanon’s profound analysis of racism as a structural and psychic mechanism that constructs the colonised subject as inferior, fragmented, and dependent on the coloniser’s gaze. It argues that colonial domination extends beyond physical exploitation into the inner life of the colonised, where identity becomes a site of conflict and alienation. Fanon’s insights—rooted in his psychiatric practice in Algeria—reveal that racism produces an internalised inferiority complex and psychological trauma that sustain colonial hierarchies. However, the paper also highlights Fanon’s emphasis on resistance: through revolutionary struggle, the colonised can reclaim agency, heal psychic wounds, and reconstruct subjectivity independent of colonial definitions. By analysing key chapters such as “On Violence” and “Colonial War and Mental Disorders,” this study situates Fanon’s thought at the intersection of psychology, politics, and decolonial theory. Ultimately, it contends that Fanon’s work demonstrates how the fight against colonial racism must entail both political liberation and psychological decolonisation, leading to the creation of a new humanism founded on equality, dignity, and self-definition.

Keywords :

Colonialism and Racism
Psychology of the Colonised
Inferiority Complex
Identity and Subjectivity
Oppression and Mental Health
Resistance and Liberation
Decolonisation
Violence and Healing

Introduction :

Frantz Fanon (1925–1961) stands as one of the most influential figures in postcolonial thought, renowned for his profound engagement with the psychological and political dimensions of colonialism. Born in Martinique, a French colony, and later trained as a psychiatrist in France, Fanon combined his medical expertise with revolutionary activism during the Algerian War of Independence. His dual identity as both a doctor and anti-colonial theorist gave him unique insight into how systems of racial domination affect not only the structures of nations but also the inner lives of individuals. The Wretched of the Earth (1961), his final and most celebrated work, was written during the last years of his life and became a manifesto for decolonisation across Africa and the Third World. It explores how colonial power dehumanises the colonised, producing not only economic and political dependency but also deep psychological scars that continue long after formal independence.

This paper focuses on how Fanon articulates the psychological impact of racism on the colonised subject, analysing the ways in which colonialism distorts identity, breeds an inferiority complex, and suppresses subjectivity. For Fanon, colonial racism functions as an invisible yet pervasive force that infiltrates consciousness, shaping how the colonised see themselves and their world. Through his psychiatric observations and political analysis, Fanon reveals that colonial domination thrives on internalised self-hatred, alienation, and psychic disintegration.

The essay will explore four key dimensions of Fanon’s argument: first, the construction of the colonial world and the making of the colonised subject; second, the psychological consequences of racism—particularly the inferiority complex and identity crisis; third, the processes of resistance and the reclamation of subjectivity; and finally, the broader implications for liberation and human renewal. Ultimately, it argues that for Fanon, the struggle against colonialism is inseparable from the struggle for psychological freedom and self-definition.

The Colonial World and the Making of the Colonised Subject :

In The Wretched of the Earth, Frantz Fanon opens his analysis of colonialism by describing the colonial world as a space defined by absolute division. He famously declares that “the colonial world is a Manichaean world,” a dualistic order that separates humanity into two irreconcilable zones: coloniser and colonised, white and black, civilised and savage (Fanon 40). This binary is not merely geographic or political but ontological—it defines being itself. The coloniser’s world is clean, ordered, and privileged, while the colonised zone is chaotic, impoverished, and brutalised. Such a system relies on the fiction of racial hierarchy, constructing whiteness as the embodiment of civilisation and blackness as the mark of primitiveness. As LitCharts observes, Fanon’s Manichaean structure reveals how colonialism organises the entire social and moral universe around racial difference, where every aspect of life—from spatial arrangement to language—reaffirms the coloniser’s superiority and the colonised subject’s degradation.

Racism, therefore, is not an incidental feature of colonial rule but its foundation. Fanon argues that colonialism is sustained through the systematic dehumanisation of the colonised, reducing them to the level of animals or things. The colonised body becomes a site upon which inferiority is inscribed and constantly reinforced through violence, stereotypes, and economic subjugation. As LitCharts notes, this racialisation transforms colonial power into a totalising system that governs not only what the colonised can do but who they can be. Colonialism’s power lies in its capacity to define the limits of the possible for the colonised subject—to make them internalise the image of their own inferiority.

Fanon captures this psychological mechanism when he writes, “Because it is a systematized negation of the other, colonialism forces the colonized to constantly ask the question: ‘Who am I in reality?’” (The Wretched of the Earth, qtd. in GradeSaver). This existential crisis reflects the deeper function of racism: it alienates individuals from their own humanity and replaces it with a distorted self-perception constructed by the coloniser. The colonised are compelled to see themselves through the lens of the oppressor, internalising stereotypes of backwardness and moral deficiency. As ERIC commentary on Fanon notes, colonialism’s greatest violence lies not only in its physical brutality but in its everyday, structural racism that normalises inequality and subordination. Racial violence thus becomes both overt—manifest in police force and segregation—and covert, embedded within the psychological and cultural institutions that shape identity.

Fanon’s insight is that colonial domination operates on multiple levels: economic, political, and crucially, psychological. The colonised do not merely obey the coloniser’s rule; they come to internalise the coloniser’s gaze, values, and judgments. As SAGE Publications observes, this internalisation produces what Fanon identifies as a “colonised consciousness”—a psyche fractured between imposed inferiority and a repressed desire for self-affirmation. The process of colonisation thus creates subjects who are both oppressed and shaped by the structures that oppress them.

Having examined how the colonial world constructs subjectivity through racism and division, we can now turn to the psychic consequences of this system—the inferiority complex, identity crisis, and psychological disorders that arise from internalised oppression in the colonised mind.

Psychic Impact: Identity, Inferiority Complex & Mental Health :

Begin by stating that one of Fanon’s major concerns is the psychological injury inflicted by colonial racism. For example, he links colonial war, torture, humiliation to psychological disorders. 

Inferiority complex and identity crisis:

Explain how the colonised subject internalises the racial hierarchy, developing feelings of inadequacy and self-negation. 

Cite Fanon’s notion of “epidermalization” (though more fully in Black Skin, White Masks) but apply that logic here: identity becomes skin deep, a marker of inferiority. 

Illustrate: Fanon says that being told one is bad, savage, inferior becomes part of the self-image. “The native’s sector is a place of ill fame, … men live there on top of each other…” 

Mental health and trauma:

Fanon as psychiatrist treated colonised patients: he observed psychotic reactions, neuroses, violence arising from colonial oppression. 

Example: The colonised man “surviving a massacre… developed homicidal impulses”

The effect of systemic dehumanisation: The colonised lives under constant “atmospheric violence” (ongoing, unseen) which erodes mental health. 

Subjectivity and split self:

The colonised subject is split: on one hand the imposed identity (inferior, other), on the other their own human being trying to assert itself. Fanon: “the identity of the subjugated is defined through the discourse … of the subjugator …” 

This internal conflict creates alienation, self-hatred, and a fractured sense of self

Linking identity, mental health and resistance:

The inferiority complex and psychic wounds are not merely collateral—they are integral to keeping colonial domination functional. When the colonised subject accepts their inferiority, resistance is stifled.

Fanon insists that healing the psyche requires decolonisation of the mind, not just of territory.

Resistance, Subjectivity and the Re-Making of the Colonised Agent :

Although The Wretched of the Earth lays bare the destructive power of colonial domination, Frantz Fanon refuses to portray the colonised as passive victims of history. He conceives them as capable of agency, transformation, and revolt. For Fanon, decolonisation is not merely a political transfer of power from coloniser to colonised; it is a total re-creation of humanity itself. The colonised, long denied subjectivity, must reclaim it through struggle—an act that is at once political, social, and psychological. As GradeSaver notes, Fanon situates liberation in the realm of human becoming: revolution is not only about reclaiming land but about reconstructing the self that colonialism has mutilated.

Central to Fanon’s understanding of resistance is his controversial argument that violence can serve as a means of psychic liberation. In the opening chapter “On Violence,” he writes, “At the individual level, violence is a cleansing force. It rids the colonized of their inferiority complex and of their despair and inaction; it makes them fearless and restores their self-respect”. For Fanon, colonialism is founded upon violence—military, structural, and psychological—and only through counter-violence can the colonised break the chains of subjugation. Violence becomes a radical form of self-assertion, a cathartic process through which the colonised subject reclaims agency and dignity. It shatters the internalised image of weakness imposed by the coloniser and replaces it with a sense of potency and self-worth. As scholars have observed, Fanon’s notion of revolutionary violence is less about revenge and more about renewal: it destroys the coloniser’s value system and allows the colonised to rebuild a moral universe of their own.

This transformation of identity lies at the heart of Fanon’s humanism. He demands that the colonised become what he calls “new men,” freed from the inferiority complexes and false identities imposed upon them. The creation of this new humanity requires rejecting the coloniser’s categories—white superiority, black inferiority, savagery, and civilisation—and constructing a new subjectivity grounded in dignity and equality. As GradeSaver’s analysis notes, Fanon’s call for the “new man” symbolises the rebirth of subjectivity: a person no longer defined by the coloniser’s gaze but by self-determined agency. The colonised must cease to measure themselves by colonial standards and instead affirm their humanity through collective struggle, cultural regeneration, and self-knowledge.

Resistance, therefore, is not confined to political or military confrontation; it extends deeply into the psychic realm. Fanon argues that decolonisation must involve a psychological revolution—the unlearning of inferiority and the reassertion of selfhood. The colonised must deconstruct the mental architecture of dependency and reclaim the cultural values that colonialism has denigrated. As EWriter29 notes, Fanon views decolonisation as both an external and internal process: it liberates territories, but it must also heal minds. Without psychological renewal, political independence risks reproducing colonial hierarchies under new names. Hence, decolonisation for Fanon is a form of mental healing, restoring the colonised subject’s capacity for self-love, creativity, and solidarity.

Yet Fanon also recognises the contradictions that accompany this process. He warns that if liberation does not include decolonisation of consciousness, the new ruling elites may mimic the attitudes and structures of the colonisers, producing what he calls “neocolonial” societies. The colonised intellectual, in particular, risks replicating the coloniser’s categories, aspiring to European approval rather than indigenous renewal. True emancipation, Fanon insists, requires vigilance against such psychic colonisation; otherwise, the cycle of alienation continues under a different guise.

In sum, Fanon’s theory of resistance situates the psychological dimension at the centre of decolonisation. Identity, inferiority, subjectivity, and resistance are inextricably linked. The act of liberation is both external and internal: to overthrow colonialism is to cure the colonial mentality. Through struggle—both physical and psychological—the colonised reclaim their humanity, transforming from objects of history into its active creators.

Conclusion :

Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth offers one of the most profound explorations of how colonialism and racism intertwine to shape not only political structures but also the deepest layers of human psychology. Throughout his work, Fanon maps the racialised making of the colonised subject, showing how colonialism operates through binaries—white/black, civilised/savage—that strip the colonised of identity and humanity. He exposes how these hierarchies inflict psychic wounds, producing internalised inferiority and fractured selfhood. Yet Fanon equally insists on the possibility of healing through resistance: the reclaiming of subjectivity, the destruction of colonial values, and the birth of what he calls “new men.” Violence, for Fanon, becomes symbolic of this rebirth—a means of cleansing the mind and restoring dignity to the colonised psyche.

For postgraduate inquiry, Fanon’s analysis reveals that racism and colonial domination are not merely material or structural but profoundly psychological and cultural. The coloniser’s power endures through the control of imagination and self-perception, and liberation must therefore begin in the mind as much as in the streets. Fanon’s insights remain strikingly relevant in contemporary discussions of internalised racism, postcolonial identity, and systemic inequality. The journey of the colonised subject, as Fanon envisions it, is thus both inward and outward—a struggle to rebuild the self as much as to reclaim the nation. True freedom, in his view, emerges when the colonised cease to live under the shadow of inferiority and become creators of their own human destiny.

Words : 2287

Images : 02

References :

Burke, Edmund. “Frantz Fanon’s ‘The Wretched of the Earth.’” Daedalus, vol. 105, no. 1, 1976, pp. 127–35. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20024388. Accessed 31 Oct. 2025.

Colonialism, Racism, and Violence Theme in the Wretched of the Earth | LitCharts. LitCharts, www.litcharts.com/lit/the-wretched-of-the-earth/themes/colonialism-racism-and-violence.

Consciousness: Fanon’s Origins for the Postcolonial Self – Serena E. Suson. journeys.dartmouth.edu/serenaesuson25/consciousness-fanons-origins-for-the-postcolonial-self.

Fairchild, Halford H. “Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth in Contemporary Perspective.” Journal of Black Studies, vol. 25, no. 2, 1994, pp. 191–99. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2784461. Accessed 31 Oct. 2025.

Fanon, Frantz. The Wretched of the Earth. Translated by Constance Farrington, Penguin, 2001.

Assignment paper no 202 :“History as Narrative: Saleem Sinai’s Memory-Making and the Politics of Truth in Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children”

  Assignment paper no 202 :“History as Narrative: Saleem Sinai’s Memory-Making and the Politics of Truth in Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children”

Personal Information:-

Name:- Bhumi Mahida

Batch:-  M.A. Sem 3 (2024-2026)

Enrollment Number:- 51082240017

E-mail Address:- bhumimahida385@gmail.com

Roll Number:- 2

Assignment Details:-

Topic:- “History as Narrative: Saleem Sinai’s Memory-Making and the Politics of Truth in Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children”

Paper & subject code:-Paper 202: Indian English Literature – Post-Independence

Submitted to:- Smt. Sujata Binoy Gardi, Department of English, MKBU, Bhavnagar

Date of Submission:- 

Table of Contents :

Abstract

Keywords

Introduction

History, Memory, and Postcolonial Context 

Saleem’s Storytelling and the Rewriting of History

Theoretical Framing: Memory, Narrative Authority, and Competing Histories

Conclusion: The Politics of Remembering

Abstract :

Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children (1981) redefines history through the unreliable yet imaginative narrative of its protagonist, Saleem Sinai. The novel transforms India’s postcolonial history into a personal myth, challenging the authority of “official” national narratives. Through Saleem’s fragmented storytelling, Rushdie explores how memory constructs and contests truth. This paper argues that Midnight’s Children frames history not as a fixed record but as a dynamic narrative shaped by memory, identity, and imagination. Rushdie’s fusion of magical realism and historiography exposes the politics behind who gets to tell the story of the nation, suggesting that truth itself is plural and narrative-bound.

Keywords: 

Midnight’s Children

postcolonialism

historiography

memory

narrative

nation

truth

magical realism

Introduction :

Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children (1981) stands as one of the most significant postcolonial novels of the twentieth century, redefining how history is written and remembered. Through the character of Saleem Sinai—born at the precise moment of India’s independence—Rushdie transforms the national history of India into a deeply personal narrative. The novel’s opening line, “I was born in the city of Bombay… on the stroke of midnight,” sets the stage for a symbolic relationship between individual life and collective history (Rushdie 3).

This paper argues that Rushdie deliberately frames national history as an act of storytelling. Saleem’s unreliable narration and his flawed memory expose how history, like fiction, is constructed rather than discovered. By transforming historical events—Partition, the Emergency, and post-Independence politics—into acts of personal remembrance, Rushdie questions the authority of state historiography. The novel reveals that personal memory, though fallible, can resist the homogenizing power of official truth.

History, Memory, and Postcolonial Context :

In postcolonial literature, history often becomes a site of contestation between colonial and indigenous voices. As Homi K. Bhabha notes, “the nation’s narrative is always the story of its difference” (Nation and Narration 1). Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children epitomizes this tension, blending myth, history, and memory to reclaim a fragmented national identity.

Postcolonial writers frequently view history as a colonized discourse—shaped by the language, perspective, and priorities of the imperial power. Edward Said, in Culture and Imperialism, argues that narrative is central to empire-building: “Empire requires narratives to justify itself” (Said xii). Rushdie reverses this by giving narrative power to the formerly colonized subject.

Saleem’s storytelling does not seek accuracy but authenticity. His errors, exaggerations, and revisions mirror the instability of collective memory itself. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin in The Empire Writes Back describe this as “writing back to the empire,” a form of cultural resistance that reclaims the power of narration (Ashcroft et al. 7). Thus, Rushdie’s historiography is postcolonial in method and purpose: it dismantles colonial archives and reconstructs them through memory and imagination.

In Midnight’s Children, history becomes a palimpsest—layered with voices, contradictions, and subjective recollections that reveal more about identity and power than about chronological fact.

Saleem’s Storytelling and the Rewriting of History :

Rushdie uses Saleem Sinai’s voice to dramatize how history is narrated rather than lived. Saleem serves simultaneously as participant, chronicler, and unreliable historian. His attempt to write the story of India through his own life demonstrates how the personal and national are inseparably entwined.

1. The Birth of Saleem and the Birth of a Nation

Saleem’s birth at midnight on August 15, 1947, directly links his body to the nation’s birth. This symbolic coincidence foregrounds the novel’s central conceit: the child’s life parallels the trajectory of postcolonial India. Saleem’s insistence that his “destiny is handcuffed to history” (Rushdie 9) suggests that history is an imaginative construct, not an objective record.

However, as Saleem’s narrative unfolds, his memory becomes increasingly unreliable—distorted by time, trauma, and personal desire. This unreliability functions not as a flaw but as a political statement: Rushdie asserts that all history, including that written by states, is subjective.

2. Partition and the Trauma of Memory

The Partition of India (1947) is one of the novel’s pivotal events. Saleem’s recounting of Partition blurs myth and history, memory and imagination. His descriptions of violence are filtered through his personal emotions and family conflicts. He admits, “I told myself stories about the stories I told” (Rushdie 231). This self-reflexivity shows that historical events become meaningful only when narrated.

The fragmentation of Saleem’s memory reflects the fragmentation of the subcontinent itself. As Neil ten Kortenaar observes, “Rushdie makes the nation itself a narrative construct, as fictional as Saleem’s autobiography” (Critical Essays on Salman Rushdie 57).

3. The Emergency and the Control of Narrative

The Emergency period (1975–77), under Indira Gandhi’s rule, represents the climax of Rushdie’s critique of historical control. Saleem’s sterilization symbolizes the state’s attempt to silence individual and reproductive power—metaphors for both creativity and dissent. The erasure of the “midnight’s children” parallels the government’s erasure of alternative histories.

Rushdie exposes the politics of truth: the state seeks to control how history is told, while Saleem’s chaotic storytelling resists that control. His fragmented memories, however inconsistent, preserve the multiplicity of Indian experience.

4. Memory as Survival

Saleem’s obsessive act of narration—writing down his story before he “cracks like an old pot”—is a struggle against oblivion (Rushdie 36). His “memory-making” becomes a moral act of survival. By re-telling and re-imagining the past, he ensures that marginalized experiences persist despite political erasure.

As critic Linda Hutcheon argues, postmodern historiographic metafiction like Midnight’s Children “problematizes the very possibility of historical knowledge” (A Poetics of Postmodernism 122). Rushdie’s technique—interweaving myth, fantasy, and fact—mirrors India’s pluralistic reality, rejecting the colonial idea of linear history.

Thus, Saleem’s unreliable storytelling becomes Rushdie’s means of democratizing history: every version of the past, no matter how flawed, deserves to be told.

Theoretical Framing: Memory, Narrative Authority, and Competing Histories :

Rushdie’s narrative engages with postmodern and postcolonial theories of history and truth. Michel Foucault’s idea that power and knowledge are intertwined resonates deeply with Rushdie’s portrayal of the Emergency. The control of archives, censorship, and propaganda all demonstrate how authority determines what counts as “truth.”

Similarly, Hayden White’s concept of “emplotment” in Metahistory (1973) reveals that historical writing is itself a form of narrative construction. By applying literary forms (tragedy, romance, comedy) to historical events, historians inevitably shape the reader’s perception of truth. Rushdie dramatizes this idea through Saleem, whose “errors” highlight the narrative nature of all historiography.

Paul Ricoeur’s Memory, History, Forgetting (2004) also informs this reading. Ricoeur distinguishes between memory as personal recollection and history as collective documentation, arguing that both depend on interpretation. Saleem’s personal memory blurs these boundaries: his memories are collective and mythical, encompassing the nation’s joys and traumas.

Furthermore, Rushdie’s own essay “Imaginary Homelands” provides an authorial lens: “The past is a country from which we have all emigrated… its loss is part of our common humanity” (Rushdie Imaginary Homelands 12). Here, Rushdie suggests that memory is both creative and compensatory—it fills the gaps left by history’s silences.

By aligning Saleem’s storytelling with postmodern theories of narrative and postcolonial critiques of historiography, Midnight’s Children becomes a text that resists closure. It insists that there is no single “truth” of history, only a chorus of memories competing to be heard.

Conclusion: 

In Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie transforms the act of remembering into an act of resistance. Saleem’s fragmented, digressive narrative destabilizes the idea that national history is coherent or authoritative. Instead, history emerges as a mosaic of personal memories, myths, and interpretations.

Rushdie’s use of magical realism further emphasizes the blurred boundary between fact and fiction. The “midnight’s children,” each endowed with supernatural powers, symbolize India’s pluralism and its fractured identity. Their eventual disintegration reflects the nation’s lost potential but also underscores the fragility of collective memory.

By presenting Saleem as an unreliable narrator, Rushdie exposes how history depends on who tells it—and from where. His fallibility becomes a metaphor for the postcolonial condition: nations, like individuals, reconstruct their pasts through memory and imagination.

Ultimately, Rushdie’s novel suggests that truth is not discovered but narrated. In giving narrative power to the marginalized and the mistaken, Midnight’s Children restores humanity to the process of history-making. As a literary event, it challenges both the imperial archive and the nationalist myth, asserting that fiction can reveal deeper truths than historical documentation ever could.

Thus, the novel’s politics of truth lies not in accuracy but in plurality—in the coexistence of many stories, voices, and memories that together create the living fabric of postcolonial India.

Words : 1656

Images : 04

References :

Ashcroft, Bill, et al. The Empire Writes Back. 1989. 2nd edition, Routledge, 2002, elearning.alberts.edu.in/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Ashcroft_Bill_Gareth_Griffiths_Helen_Tif-1.pdf.

Bhabha, Homi K., editor. Nation and Narration. Routledge, 1990.

Györke, Ágnes. “ALLEGORIES OF NATION IN ‘MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN.’” Hungarian Journal of English and American Studies (HJEAS), vol. 7, no. 2, 2001, pp. 169–90. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/41274152. Accessed 31 Oct. 2025.

Kumar, Prashant. “Midnight’s Children: An Allegory of Indian History.” Advances and Scholarly Researches in Allied Education |, 2 October 2022, https://ignited.in/a/57702. Accessed 30 October 2025.

“Midnight’s Children: analysis and symbols of the book.” 16 June 2023, https://auralcrave.com/en/2020/06/07/midnights-children-analysis-and-symbols-of-the-book/?expand_article=1. Accessed 30 October 2025.

Novianti, Nita. “Unveiling India through “the Perforated Sheet” in Rushdie's Midnight's Children.” Academia.edu,

https://www.academia.edu/10148444/Unveiling_India_through_the_Perforated_Sheet_in_Rushdie_s_Midnight_s_Children. Accessed 30 October 2025.

Ricœur, Paul. Memory, History, Forgetting. University of Chicago Press, 2004, http://catdir.loc.gov/catdir/bios/uchi051/2004001269.html.

Rushdie, Salman. Midnight’s Children. Vintage, 1995.

Assignment paper no 201 : “Voices at the Margins: Karna as a Subaltern Hero in T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna”

  Assignment paper no 201 : “Voices at the Margins: Karna as a Subaltern Hero in T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna”

Personal Information:-

Name:- Bhumi Mahida

Batch:-  M.A. Sem 3 (2024-2026)

Enrollment Number:- 51082240017

E-mail Address:- bhumimahida385@gmail.com

Roll Number:- 2

Assignment Details:-

Topic:- “Voices at the Margins: Karna as a Subaltern Hero in T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna”

Paper & subject code:-Paper 201: Indian English Literature – Pre-Independence

Submitted to:- Smt. Sujata Binoy Gardi, Department of English, MKBU, Bhavnagar

Date of Submission:- 

Table of Contents :

Abstract
Keywords
Introduction
Theoretical Framework: Subalternity and Voice
Reinterpreting Myth: Peter Struck’s Tools for Reading Myths
Karna’s Marginality: The Curse of Birth and Silence
The Subaltern Hero and the Ethics of Voice
Kailasam’s Dramatic Method: Language and Symbolism
Reading Karna through Spivak: Can He Speak?
Conclusion

Abstract :

This paper explores T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna (1946) through the lens of subaltern theory, focusing on how the playwright reimagines the mythic figure of Karna as a voice from the margins. Drawing upon Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s seminal essay “Can the Subaltern Speak?” (1988), the study examines how caste, birth, and social hierarchy function as mechanisms of silencing within both the Mahabharata and Kailasam’s modern reinterpretation. While Spivak contends that the subaltern “cannot speak” because their voice is continually mediated by hegemonic discourse, Kailasam’s play dramatizes an attempt to restore that suppressed voice through tragic art. Using Peter Struck’s “Tools for Reading Myths” (2023), the analysis also situates the play within a framework of mythic transformation, showing how Kailasam converts epic mythology into a contemporary critique of social inequality. Karna emerges as a subaltern hero—a moral figure whose greatness lies not in conquest but in endurance, loyalty, and dignity amidst systemic exclusion. By combining subaltern theory with mythic analysis, the paper argues that Kailasam’s work functions as both a reclamation of the silenced hero and a critique of the structures that continue to marginalize voices like his.

Keywords :

Subaltern Theory
The Curse or Karna
Karna (Mahabharata)
Myth and Modernity
Peter Struck
Voice and Silence
Caste and Identity
Tragic Heroism

Introduction :

T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna (1946) revisits the epic narrative of the Mahabharata through the tragic figure of Karna—a character historically situated at the intersection of caste, birth, and power. Kailasam’s retelling gives prominence to a figure long marginalised by both epic tradition and societal hierarchy. This paper reads Karna as a subaltern hero, drawing on Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s seminal essay “Can the Subaltern Speak?” (1988) to explore how Kailasam engages with questions of voice, representation, and social exclusion. It also employs Peter Struck’s “Tools for Reading Myths” (2023) to analyse how the playwright reconfigures a mythic narrative to foreground a suppressed identity within the Indian cultural imagination.

In doing so, this study asks: Can Karna’s voice in The Curse or Karna truly be heard, or does it remain entrapped within structures of power and myth? How does Kailasam’s dramatic form translate mythic subjugation into human tragedy?

Theoretical Framework: Subalternity and Voice :

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s “Can the Subaltern Speak?” critiques the mechanisms through which colonial and patriarchal power structures silence the “subaltern,” or those existing outside dominant systems of knowledge and representation. For Spivak, the subaltern “cannot speak” not because they lack speech, but because their voice is continuously refracted, overwritten, or appropriated by hegemonic discourses (Spivak 285).

Applying this to The Curse or Karna, Karna’s marginality derives from caste hierarchy—his divine birth is obscured by his social identity as a charioteer’s son. His status prevents him from being recognised as a Kshatriya, thus barring him from equality among the Pandavas and Kauravas. Kailasam’s dramatic treatment of Karna turns this mythic exclusion into a metaphor for social silencing.

Spivak’s question—“Can the subaltern speak?”—becomes central here. Karna’s repeated attempts to define himself through loyalty, merit, and righteousness are continually undermined by his birth, illustrating what Spivak identifies as the epistemic violence of systems that deny legitimacy to subaltern speech. Kailasam’s play can thus be read as a creative act of retrieving that suppressed voice from epic narrative.

Reinterpreting Myth: Peter Struck’s Tools for Reading Myths :

Peter Struck, in “Tools for Reading Myths” (2023), argues that myths operate as “living frameworks for meaning”, constantly reshaped by cultural, historical, and moral concerns. Myth, according to Struck, is not static; each retelling represents a dialogue between past and present. When modern writers engage with myth, they do not merely repeat old stories but reinterpret them to address contemporary anxieties.

Kailasam’s adaptation of the Karna myth exemplifies this process. The playwright reconstructs the myth not as divine spectacle but as human drama, emphasising Karna’s moral conflict and his sense of displacement. By doing so, Kailasam transforms the Mahabharata’s peripheral warrior into a modern tragic protagonist—a man crushed between fate and social injustice.

Struck’s framework allows us to see Kailasam’s play as a mythic revision, one that reclaims the subaltern’s humanity from epic abstraction. Myth becomes a political tool, revealing how hierarchies of birth and speech persist across ages.

Karna’s Marginality: The Curse of Birth and Silence :

In The Curse or Karna, Kailasam humanises the mythic hero through an emphasis on psychological depth and social alienation. Karna’s awareness of his ambiguous identity—born of a god, raised by a charioteer—marks his life as a continuous negotiation with societal exclusion. As S. D. Pawar notes, the play represents Kailasam’s “most sustained dramatic adventure” (Pawar 3), driven by a “tragic consciousness of injustice rooted in caste” (4).

This injustice manifests most clearly in Karna’s interactions with the Pandavas. When Draupadi rejects him in the tournament on the grounds of his low birth, his dignity collapses under the weight of social orthodoxy. His identity as a warrior is rendered void by an immutable caste label. Kailasam’s stage directions and dialogue give this humiliation an emotional charge absent in the epic: Karna’s voice, trembling with suppressed anger, becomes the audience’s entry point into the suffering of the marginalised.

Yet this voice is paradoxical. It is both heard and unheard—expressed through language yet negated by social hierarchy. This duality mirrors Spivak’s notion of the subaltern’s speaking silence: a voice articulated within a discourse that refuses to recognise it.

Karna’s tragic loyalty to Duryodhana, often read as moral blindness, becomes instead an act of solidarity among the oppressed. In supporting the only prince who acknowledges him, Karna affirms his human need for recognition. Kailasam’s portrayal thus shifts the moral center of the myth, allowing the subaltern hero to articulate his truth, even within doomed circumstances.

The Subaltern Hero and the Ethics of Voice :

Kailasam’s dramatic technique emphasises moral complexity rather than heroic grandeur. The play’s title itself—The Curse or Karna—encapsulates this tension. The “curse” functions not only as a supernatural motif but also as a metaphor for systemic oppression: the curse of birth, the curse of silence, and the curse of being othered.

Karna’s heroism lies not in victory but in endurance. His acceptance of fate—fighting for Duryodhana despite knowing the injustice of war—echoes the subaltern’s struggle for agency within oppressive structures. He cannot transcend his circumstances, but he can assert dignity within them.

In this way, Kailasam subverts classical definitions of heroism. The epic hero is replaced by a moral subaltern, whose power comes from ethical steadfastness rather than divine favour. The playwright’s humanistic vision thus aligns with Spivak’s call to “rethink representation”—to allow those historically silenced by power to speak through art.

Kailasam’s Dramatic Method: Language and Symbolism :

Kailasam’s language in The Curse or Karna alternates between poetic elevation and colloquial simplicity, creating a hybrid idiom that mirrors Karna’s divided identity. His dialogues—neither wholly Sanskritised nor modern—reflect the in-betweenness of a character trapped between divine and human, high and low, birth and merit.

This linguistic hybridity itself is political: it resists the elite language of epics and speaks instead in the voice of the common man, echoing the subaltern’s reclamation of speech. The play’s structure also resists linearity; it moves between memory, dialogue, and introspection, resembling a modernist tragedy rather than an epic spectacle.

Symbols like the armor and earrings (Kavacha and Kundala)—which Karna surrenders to Indra—represent both his nobility and his vulnerability. By giving them away, he symbolically yields the last traces of divine privilege, embracing his mortal and marginal identity. Kailasam turns this moment into an act of moral heroism, reframing mythic destiny as social defiance.

Reading Karna through Spivak: Can He Speak?

Returning to Spivak’s question—“Can the subaltern speak?”—the play provides a nuanced answer. Yes, Karna speaks, but his speech is unheard by power. His ethical reasoning, his defence of loyalty and honour, and his awareness of injustice constitute an authentic subaltern voice. Yet, by the end, his death ensures that this voice never transforms the social order that silenced him.

This tragic paradox reinforces Spivak’s insight: “The subaltern’s speech does not achieve the status of a full speech act” (Spivak 289). Kailasam’s play, however, performs a secondary act of recovery—artistic representation as resistance. By dramatizing Karna’s voice, Kailasam invites the audience to hear what epic orthodoxy ignored.

Thus, The Curse or Karna becomes an early instance of Indian subaltern drama, one that uses myth not for reverence but for critique. It brings the marginal to the centre, re-inscribing the silenced hero into the moral consciousness of modern India.

Conclusion :

T. P. Kailasam’s The Curse or Karna stands as a powerful intersection of myth and subaltern discourse. Through the tragic voice of Karna, Kailasam critiques the hierarchies that sustain silence and suffering. Spivak’s framework illuminates how Karna’s attempts at self-definition are both expressive and futile—his voice resounds, yet history refuses to listen.

At the same time, Peter Struck’s insights into myth help reveal Kailasam’s innovation: he transforms the mythic narrative into a medium of social protest. Karna’s tragedy, thus, transcends the personal—it becomes emblematic of all those who remain unheard within systems of caste, class, or power.

In reclaiming Karna as a subaltern hero, Kailasam not only rewrites an ancient myth but also challenges the moral fabric of modern Indian society. His play reminds us that art, by amplifying marginal voices, can serve as both a mirror and a corrective to social injustice.

Words : 1695

Images : 04

References:

Department of English MKBU. “Tools for Reading Myths - Peter Struck.” Slideshare, www.slideshare.net/slideshow/tools-for-reading-myths-peter-struck/115562338.

Internet Archive, 1946, archive.org/details/unset0000unse_h8e3/page/52/mode/2up.

Pawar, Samadhan D. “HUMAN VALUES IN THE PLAYS OF T. P. KAILASAM.” Lite. Cog.:AREELLC, vol. I, no. 3, Literary Cognizance, Dec. 2015, literarycognizance.com/images/vol1-issue111/3_DrSamadhanDPawar.pdf.

Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, University of Illinois Press, 1988.

Subaltern Theories: Ranajit Guha, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Dipesh Chakravarty – Literary Criticism and Theory. ebooks.inflibnet.ac.in/engp10/chapter/subaltern-theories-ranajit-guha-gayatri-chakravorty-spivak-dipesh-chakravarty.

Exploring Marginalization in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

 Exploring Marginalization in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

This blog is a response to a task given by Prof. Dilip Barad, exploring Cultural Studies. It delves into how marginalized characters are comparable to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, viewed through the framework of Hamlet. For further exploration regarding task, visit Teacher's blog.

Marginalization in Hamlet :

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Hamlet function as marginal figures who exist mainly to carry out King Claudius’s wishes rather than act with any real independence. They lack individuality and agency, serving merely as instruments of authority. Acting as Claudius’s puppets, they are instructed to spy on Hamlet and report his behavior, placing them on the edges of the play’s central power conflicts. They do not truly belong to either side—neither loyal to Hamlet nor fully trusted by Claudius—but are manipulated by both for their own ends.

Hamlet’s description of Rosencrantz as a “sponge” captures their subservient nature perfectly. Like sponges, they absorb the king’s commands unquestioningly, only to be squeezed dry and discarded when they have served their purpose. This metaphor exposes how powerless individuals are exploited and then abandoned by those in authority. Ultimately, when Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are sent to England with orders to ensure Hamlet’s death, they become victims of the very system they served—meeting their own deaths instead. Their fate underscores the vulnerability and expendability of those who exist merely as pawns in the larger political game.

Modern Parallels to Corporate Power : 

In the modern corporate environment, employees are frequently overworked, underpaid, and treated as replaceable rather than respected contributors. Many organizations disregard government regulations like minimum wage laws, and with the rise of privatization, profit has become the central focus. As a result, employee welfare is often neglected.

The situation of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in *Hamlet* mirrors that of today’s workers. Just as Claudius uses and then abandons them once they lose their usefulness, corporations today often value workers only for their immediate productivity. When businesses restructure, downsize, or shift operations, dedicated employees can suddenly lose their jobs, regardless of their commitment or performance. In both scenarios, human beings are viewed as disposable assets—valued only when they contribute to someone else’s ambitions, whether those belong to a king or a corporation. Ultimately, the modern economic system prioritizes profit over people, placing financial gain above human dignity and security.

In "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead", people utilize one another quite a deal, and the fact that the main characters, "Ros and Guil", never seem to be in control of their circumstances may be attributable to their naive inability to know how to do so. In many ways, manipulation is like directing a play in that it involves having the power to influence how things turn out. To influence the audience's thoughts and feelings, a play is investigated as a form of audience manipulation.

Existential Questions in Stoppard’s Reinterpretation :

In *Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead*, Tom Stoppard explores the characters’ desperate search for meaning to highlight their existential marginalization in an uncaring world. Their confusion, constant questioning, and lack of understanding of the larger plot expose the absurdity of being reduced to mere instruments within forces they cannot influence or comprehend.

As Murray J. Levith notes, the very names “Rosencrantz” and “Guildenstern”—derived from Dutch-German roots meaning “garland of roses” and “golden star”—carry a singsong quality that diminishes their individuality. Anna K. Nardo further observes that Stoppard places these figures in a paradoxical position: they exist both inside Shakespeare’s *Hamlet* as characters and outside it as self-aware agents. Within this blurred boundary between reality and performance, Ros and Guil become aware of their artificial existence. They sometimes call for the next scene or attempt to engage with the audience, but their efforts are futile, reinforcing their helplessness and lack of control over destiny.

Unlike Hamlet, who ultimately embraces action and self-awareness, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern remain passive and bewildered, unable to define their own meaning. Their inability to act reflects Stoppard’s critique of those who drift through life without asserting agency within their constraints. Their confusion and constant search for direction—met with indifference—underscore the fragility of individuals trapped within vast, impersonal systems.

This theme mirrors the condition of workers in modern corporations. Many employees today feel insignificant within profit-driven organizations that treat them as disposable components of a larger machine. Decisions like mass layoffs or outsourcing are made without regard for individual welfare, leaving workers feeling powerless and uncertain of their purpose.

Stoppard’s portrayal of Ros and Guil’s futile quest for meaning can therefore be interpreted as a broader social commentary. Whether in the political manipulations of 'Hamlet' or the economic hierarchies of the modern workplace, individuals are often subordinated to systems that value goals and profit over human significance.

Cultural and Economic Power Structures : 

Shakespeare critiques the power structures in Hamlet by showing how people with no real power, like Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Ophelia, are used, discarded, and destroyed by those who are in charge. Characters like King Claudius use others to keep their power, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are no different—they’re brought in to do the king’s bidding but are quickly thrown away once they’re no longer useful. Hamlet even compares them to a "sponge," showing how they have no value beyond being used by the king. Shakespeare’s message is clear: systems of power that put authority first will always exploit and discard the “little people.”

In Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Stoppard takes this idea further by focusing on the characters’ struggle to find meaning in a world that treats them as insignificant. The play explores themes of fate, free will, and self-awareness, showing how ordinary people are trapped by larger forces that leave them confused and powerless. Stoppard highlights the absurdity of their situation by making them the main characters in a story where they don’t have control—much like how “little people” in society don’t have much control over their lives.

Stoppard’s take is really relatable to today’s issues, like job insecurity and corporate control. Modern workers often feel stuck, much like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in a story that’s already been written for them. They are treated like replaceable parts in a company, valued only for what they can produce, and vulnerable to being fired or relocated without warning. Both Shakespeare and Stoppard show how systems of power—whether political or corporate—treat ordinary people like they don’t matter, leaving them at the mercy of decisions made by those in charge.

Personal Reflection :

In 'Hamlet', King Claudius treats Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as expendable tools, using them to serve his own purposes and discarding them once they lose their usefulness, which ultimately leads to their deaths. This mirrors the treatment of workers in today’s corporate world. Employees may dedicate their lives to a company, yet when they are no longer seen as productive or efficient, they are often dismissed without a second thought.

When workers are young and energetic, companies view them as valuable assets. However, as their skills or pace decline with time, they are easily replaced. This reveals the utilitarian mindset that dominates corporate structures, where a person’s worth is measured purely by output and efficiency. Both in 'Hamlet' and in the modern workplace, those in positions of authority—be it a monarch or a corporate leader—exploit others for their own gain, exposing the grim reality of how human beings are often reduced to mere instruments of power and profit.

References :

Beckman, Jeff. “Eye-opening Statistics on Job Displacement Due to Automation (2023 Data).” Techreport, 28 May 2024, techreport.com/statistics/business-workplace/job-displacement-due-to-automation.

Kumar, Sanjeev. “HAMLET AND ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD - a TEXTUAL STUDY.” International Journal of Novel Research and Development, by IJNRD, vol. 8, no. 1, Jan. 2023, pp. b573–75. www.ijnrd.org/papers/IJNRD2301171.pdf.

Thinking Activity: Exploring Marginalization in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Research Gate, Oct. 2024, www.researchgate.net/publication/385301805_Thinking_Activity_Exploring_Marginalization_in_Shakespeare's_Hamlet_and_Stoppard's_Rosencrantz_and_Guildenstern_Are_Dead. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025.

Thinking Activity: A Cultural Studies Approach to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Thinking Activity: A Cultural Studies Approach to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

This blog is created as part of thinking activity given by Prof. Dilip Barad from MKBU. It explores Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein and examines its impact on cultural studies. For additional details, please refer to the Teacher’s Blog.

Part 1: Revolutionary Births

The Creature as Proletarian

The creature’s mix of innocence and anger kind of mirrors how society views revolutions and the struggles of people who’ve been oppressed. Because he looks and acts differently, society immediately sees him as a threat. This idea taps into how the world can be quick to label anyone who doesn’t fit in as dangerous or rebellious.

But if we look at him from a postcolonial angle, his innocence becomes clear. He’s just reacting to the way the world treats him, with hardly any real choices. When his creator leaves him alone, it’s a lot like how marginalized groups—like enslaved people or colonized communities—are treated as outsiders. Society often stereotypes them as “dangerous” just because they’re different. So, the creature ends up representing how the oppressed might react, not out of inherent anger but out of a real need to be seen and understood.

The Black Panther movement's focus on self-defense and community empowerment is similar to the Dalit Panther movement and the Creature's journey from silent suffering to organized resistance. Both movements show the transition from helplessness to empowered assertion of rights.

A Race of Devils 

In Frankenstein, Shelley digs into ideas of race and empire by making the creature an “Other”—someone everyone fears and isolates just because he looks and acts differently. This idea reflects how colonial powers have historically treated racial and ethnic groups, dehumanizing them simply for being different. Victor Frankenstein’s reaction to his creation is a lot like the attitude of colonizers: he’s focused on gaining knowledge and power but doesn’t care about the responsibilities that come with it. He’s afraid of the creature because he’s unfamiliar, and this mirrors how colonial societies rejected and marginalized other races and cultures.

Shelley’s story brings out how treating certain people as “outsiders” often leads to isolation, which can spiral into rebellion. In history, marginalized groups who were alienated and treated unfairly often pushed back, resisting the systems that labeled them as less than human. These themes still hit home today, as conversations about race, privilege, and power are still very much alive. Systemic racism and the exclusion of marginalized groups show that the effects of colonialism are still around, shaping how power and privilege are distributed. Shelley's story pushes readers to think about empathy, inclusion, and taking responsibility for those we view as “other,” which are essential values if we want to address today’s racial inequalities.

From Natural Philosophy to Cyborg 

Today’s big leaps in science reflect the warnings in Frankenstein about what can happen when human ambition isn’t kept in check. The novel shows the risks of pushing limits without considering the consequences, and we’re seeing similar issues now with advances in things like gene editing and AI. As we start to modify genes to potentially shape future generations or develop AI that could someday operate beyond our control, people are becoming worried about where this might lead. There’s this feeling that, even though these advancements seem exciting, they could end up causing serious problems if not handled responsibly.

Genetic engineering and cloning raise concerns similar to those in Frankenstein. Techniques like CRISPR can be used to create "designer babies," raising ethical issues around eugenics and inequality.  Consequently leads to "Biological Elitism" This could lead to a genetically enhanced elite, exacerbating existing social divides.

A lot of stories—books, movies, and more—have been made that deal with the same ideas, like robots taking over or genetically modified humans creating issues we can’t fully predict. This idea is similar to Frankenstein: if we create something powerful or intelligent, we also take on the responsibility to make sure it doesn’t end up causing harm. In pursuing new tech, we need to think not just about what we can do, but what we should do, making sure we don’t create things that could come back to harm society.

Part 2: The Frankenpheme in Popular Culture

First Film Adaptation and Popular Retellings

The fear of scientific progress has long been a central theme in literature, particularly in *Frankenstein*, where the monster embodies the peril of advancing science without moral awareness. Victor Frankenstein’s obsessive pursuit of knowledge drives him to create life, yet his failure to take responsibility for that life turns his success into tragedy. The creature thus becomes a representation of the unforeseen dangers of unchecked ambition and the ethical dilemmas that arise from human experimentation.

Over time, however, public attitudes toward science have evolved. With the emergence of technologies like genetic engineering and artificial intelligence, the initial fear and suspicion have given way to a more nuanced understanding. Modern audiences recognize both the promise and the peril of innovation. In contemporary adaptations of *Frankenstein*, the monster is often reimagined as a sympathetic, even tragic, figure—one whose suffering highlights human neglect and misunderstanding rather than innate evil.

This reinterpretation mirrors a broader cultural shift: science is no longer seen solely as a threat but as a force that can bring progress when guided by ethics and responsibility. Yet the fundamental warning at the heart of *Frankenstein* remains significant—scientific advancement, no matter how groundbreaking, must always be tempered by moral consideration and accountability for its consequences.

Reading and Analysis

The Creature’s education through books like 'Paradise Lost', 'Plutarch’s Lives', and 'The Sorrows of Werter' broadens his intellect but also intensifies his suffering. These works teach him about virtue, love, and human civilization, yet they also make him painfully aware of what he lacks—companionship, acceptance, and identity. He relates to Adam’s loneliness and Satan’s rebellion, reflecting his conflicted nature. While he learns moral ideals and empathy, his inability to experience them in real life leads to despair and bitterness. Thus, his pursuit of knowledge becomes both a blessing and a curse—enlightening his mind but condemning his heart to loneliness and resentment.

Film and Media Reflection 

In early film versions such as James Whale’s 'Frankenstein' (1931), the Creature is portrayed as both pitiable and terrifying, embodying society’s fear of the unfamiliar and the consequences of unchecked scientific ambition during a time of rapid industrial growth. These adaptations warned against the dangers of science without moral restraint, echoing public anxiety over technology’s potential to escape human control.

Over time, reinterpretations like 'Ex Machina' and 'Blade Runner' have updated the story to address modern ethical questions surrounding artificial intelligence and genetic engineering. These films explore whether artificial beings possess consciousness, autonomy, and the right to exist, while also emphasizing the moral responsibilities of their creators. Many recent versions shift the focus toward the Creature’s isolation, portraying him less as a monster and more as a victim of rejection and prejudice, thereby linking his experience to contemporary social issues such as racism, marginalization, and alienation.

Ultimately, 'Frankenstein' remains a living narrative that adapts to each era’s concerns. Its core critique—warning against the misuse of knowledge and the neglect of empathy—continues to resonate, reflecting humanity’s ongoing struggle to balance scientific progress with ethical responsibility.

References :

Barad, Dilip. “Thinking Activity: A Cultural Studies Approach to Frankenstein.” Reserchgate, Nov. 202AD, https://doi.org/10.13140/RG.2.2.24589.76005.

Barad,Dilip.  Why Are We so Scared of Robots / AIs? blog.dilipbarad.com/2019/03/why-are-we-so-scared-of-robots-ais.html.

“Eugenics: Its Origin and Development (1883 - Present).” Genome.gov, www.genome.gov/about-genomics/educational-resources/timelines/eugenics.

Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus. 5 Nov. 2024, www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/84/pg84-images.html.

Levine, “the Ambiguous Heritage of Frankenstein.” knarf.english.upenn.edu/Articles/levine.html.

Lobdell, None. “Never Dead: Mary Shelley’s ≪Em≫Frankenstein≪/Em≫” Science Fiction Studies, vol. 47, no. 2, Jan. 2020, p. 253. https://doi.org/10.5621/sciefictstud.47.2.0253.