Midnight’s Children 915other children have various powers, which are less
and less impressive the farther away their births are
from midnight.
Saleem’s story starts with the story of his grand-
father, Aadam Aziz, a doctor from rural India. As
Saleem narrates his story and that of his family, he
takes readers through the major milestones of 20th-
century Indian history, the Amritsar massacre, the
rise of leaders such as Gandhi and Nehru, Indepen-
dence from Britain, the language riots, the partition-
ing of Pakistan and the subsequent Indo-Pakistani
War, and finally the state of emergency declared
by Indira Gandhi, referred to here as the Widow.
Saleem takes great liberties with his story, telling it
how he feels it happened rather than worrying too
much about the facts.
Jennifer McClinton-Temple
IdentIty in Midnight’s Children
Saleem Sinai’s identity is formed by too many ele-
ments to count. Much like the country whose gen-
esis coincides with his, he is a creature of multiple
facets, some of which contradict one another, but all
of which play a part in who he is. Saleem’s origins,
about which the reader eventually learns the truth,
are complicated. He believes himself to be the son
of Ahmed and Amina Sinai, middle-class Muslims.
In reality, he is the son of the impoverished Hindu
Wee Willie Winkie and his wife, Vanita—and
because she had an affair with William Methwold,
Saleem is the biological son of the English colonizer.
Rushdie tells us that Saleem has a face “like the map
of India.” Indeed, this convoluted history makes him
both English and Indian, as well as Muslim, Hindu,
and Christian all at once.
Although the circumstances of his birth are
indeed auspicious, Saleem’s identity began forming
long before that day. Rushdie begins Saleem’s story
with the story of Aadam Aziz, Saleem’s maternal
grandfather. Even as Padma keeps bullying him
“back into the world of linear narrative,” Saleem
is drawn back to the past. In order for the story
of who he is to be accurate, the reader must know
so many things: We must know how Aadam and
the Reverend Mother became engaged, so that we
can understand what kind of influence they were
on their children. Moving forward, we must know
what Amina Sinai (once Mumtaz Aziz) thought of
herself, her parents, her husband, and her children
if we are to know how Saleem came to be Saleem.
After giving us this family history, Saleem
gradually arrives at the moment of his birth, but
not before preparing us properly. We are told, for
instance, that his “annunciation saved a life.” Indeed,
when his mother saved Lifafa Das from the mob
in the street by announcing she was with child, she
saved his life. Further, that life-saving gesture leads
Amina to Das’s cousin, who delivers the prophecy
that will describe Saleem’s life. This baby, Ramram
Seth says, will “never be older than his mother-
land.” He will be guided by voices and mutilated
by friends. He will be claimed by the jungle and
reclaimed by wizards. And finally, he will “die before
he is dead.” But the baby in Amina’s womb is Shiva,
not Saleem, and none of that describes him. This
confusion forces the reader to consider how identity
is formed: Clearly, it is formed not by our genes but
by our experiences. Ramram Seth knows that the
baby Amina carries will never know her, so instead
he tells her what will happen to her real son, the
son she will raise as her own. Saleem’s identity, then,
is shown to be a product of his environment, not a
fixed, genetic entity.
Because Saleem’s identity is so closely tied to that
of his country, we must also consider the implica-
tions of his complicated, ever-changing identity for
India itself. If Midnight’s Children shows us anything
about India, it is that it is a complicated, multiplici-
tous place, with no one, pure identity. Saleem’s power
allows him to “become” others, moving from person
to person all with the power of his mind. Sampling
the variety this power grants him, he is, variously, a
tourist, a priest, a rickshaw driver, a “fisherwoman
whose sari was as tight as her morals were loose,” a
landlord, a schoolteacher, a beggar, and an infant. He
flies from the glory of the Taj Mahal to the slums of
Calcutta to the Himalayas; from small, rural villages
to holy temples to, finally, the halls of government,
where he occupies the mind of Jawaharlal Nehru,
prime minister of India. All the while, he seems to
be coming to the understanding that just as all of
these people are “him,” all of these people are India.
Saleem’s identity can be fluid over time as well.
As an adult looking back, his 10-year-old self,