672 Kipling, Rudyard
For whatever fears England had about “going
native” in India, it was undeniably part of the Brit-
ish landscape, a landscape that was darkened by the
threatening shadow of Russia. Behind the scenes of
Kim’s coming-of-age story is the Great Game, the
struggle for a central Asian empire that involved
Britain and Russia for much of the 19th century. In
the novel, Kim intercepts Russian spies surveying
the northern boundaries of British India. When one
of them encounters Kim’s fellow spy, Hurree Babu,
the Russian reflects: “He represents little India in
transition—the monstrous hybridism of East and
West . . It is we who can deal with Orientals.”
This “hybridism” reveals the Russians’ contempt
for India and Indians, who should be racially and
culturally segregated from the ruling class. Hurree
Babu—as well as Kim—is a man of two worlds, able
to speak and act English as readily as any number of
languages and dialects. Our Russian speaker finds
this “monstrous,” as he sees the Oriental character
as a fixed, exotic specimen—thus echoing a famous
Kipling poem: “Oh, East is East, and West is West,
and never the twain shall meet.” However, his
ignorance of the Eastern character is revealed when
he tries to barter for—and then seize—the lama’s
sacred drawing of the Wheel of Life. A comic melee
ensues, with Kim soundly drubbing the buffoonish
Russian, a scene that is rendered as vividly as a mod-
ern political cartoon.
However, in Kipling’s novel only the British rul-
ers can truly understand and value Indian culture.
From the very first chapter, Kipling introduces us
to the curator of the Lahore museum (supposedly
based on Kipling’s father), who has painstakingly
collected the artifacts of Indian history. His knowl-
edge is shown to be equal to that of a true native,
the Teshoo Lama, who gratefully accepts his gift
of spectacles. This gift is telling, as the association
of glasses with sight suggests that the curator—an
Englishman—must help the native “see” his path
to enlightenment. Likewise, Kim’s English mentors,
such as the mysterious Lurghan Sahib, are virtual
encyclopedias of Indian culture, with impressive col-
lections of art and weaponry. This idea of knowing
India is reflected in the Great Game itself, where
British agents must methodically map every square
inch of Indian soil. To truly rule a country, the Game
suggests, it must be collected, classified, and labeled
on future maps. Thus, Kim’s work in the Great
Game is the truest expression of his nationality as a
British subject.
Of course, India’s “hybrid” subjects are exactly
that—hybrids, setting foot in both worlds, though
of questionable cultural/racial origin. Kipling is not
oblivious to this dark undercurrent of colonialism, as
seen in Hurree Babu’s attempts to publish scholarly
papers in England and join the Royal Society. Not
surprisingly, he is rejected for the same reason Kim
is sent to school to become a proper Sahib: Kim
belongs by birth to a world that Hurree Babu can
never aspire to, despite his learning and experience.
He must serve the Empire tirelessly and, ultimately
anonymously, offering colonial information that
will be published under an Englishman’s name. As
something of a hybrid himself, Kipling was keenly
aware of the impossibility of being both Indian and
British, particularly in a world that wanted a stable,
English subject. Kim’s destiny seems to follow a sim-
ilar path of anonymity, fading into the background
of the Great Game as the one person who can truly
experience the diversity of Indian life.
Joshua GrassoSpirituality in Kim
In a book that has long been interpreted as a colo-
nial adventure tale, spirituality plays a major role,
particularly as it shapes the dichotomy between
Kim’s Indian and English identities. Though Kim
seems aloof from religion, he is drawn to the most
spiritual figure in the book—the Teshoo Lama, who
recruits Kim for his sacred quest. However, many
critics have found it upsetting that the voice of
Indian spirituality in the novel is Buddhist. After
all, the dominant religious philosophy of India is
Hinduism, Buddhism being a relatively late import
from China. Yet what would seem an embarrassing
lapse on Kipling’s part has surprising relevance in
the novel. In the opening pages, the lama seems to
emerge from the mists of time, prompting even Kim
(otherwise a shrewd judge of nationality) to remark:
“but he is no man of India that I have ever seen” (6).
As a figure who cannot be named with a specific
race or class, he assumes an almost mythic dimen-
sion, a “type” whose memory lingers in the collective