Anita Agnihotri’s newest novel, translated from Bengali by Arunava Sinha, traces the trajectory of salt from its use as a symbol of resistance against the British Empire in the 1930s to the exploitation of salt farmers in modern-day India. Spanning generations and juggling various points of view, A Touch of Salt is an ambitious novel that questions the fruits of Indian independence. Equally historical and politically relevant, the novel shines a much-deserved light on the Agarias, an often neglected community in western India.
The Rann of Kutch, a large marshy salt flat, has been the seat of many power struggles. Originally a port city in the Indus Valley, it is now a barren border between India and Pakistan. Under colonial rule, the Rann became the primary location of the contentious Salt Act, in which the British banned Indians from using the ample salt available from the marsh to instead package it under heavy taxes to sell for a profit. Indians near the coast were hit hardest by the Act, as a previously ubiquitous item was now virtually unreachable for the common people. The absurdity of salt prices under the Act inspired one of India’s most effective civil disobedience movements, Gandhi’s Dandi march. At least half of the novel is spent dissecting the planning and follow-through of the march, with glimpses into the lives of Gandhi’s followers at the Sabarmati Ashram, and the unique position of Gandhi’s wife, Kasturba, as the mother of the freedom struggle.
The novel’s other half is set in the village of Kharaghoda, near the end of the Little Rann of Kutch. This is the place of the Agarias, a community of salt farmers that have been harvesting salt for hundreds of years. Here, the reader is introduced to the generational patriarchs of the Patel family, residents of the land for decades, each with a unique point of view on the plight of the Agarias and the successes and failures of the Indian national experiment. Under British rule, the “government took great care of them”, building a library and hospital in Kharaghoda that are long abandoned. Despite their losses under the Salt Act, the Agarias knew that they—the people who knew the perilous terrain and dangers of salt harvesting—were important to the British, and therefore safe under their rule. According to some, the Agarias “dreams died after independence.” Despite the importance of “swadeshi”—Indian-made—salt during the freedom struggle, its value decreased significantly once the newly-formed independent India removed taxes from salt and kept its price low, as a tribute to Gandhi, but with severe consequences for the Agarias who sank deeper into poverty.
In the time of Tribhuvan Patel, the Patel grandfather, British rule was synonymous with exploitation, violence, and cruelty. As a child, he snuck out of the village and made his way to Sabarmati Ashram, to walk with Gandhi as they fought for Indian salt—his salt! Tribhuvan’s child, Ram Singh, had a less sentimental approach to Indian independence, preferring British rule to the corruption and negligence of Indian officials. And Ram Singh’s son, Azad, finds himself at a crossroads: colonial and sovereign rule have each failed the Agarias. As the price of salt decreased in independent India, the profit made by Agarias steadily dwindled until they were compelled into agreements with loan sharks. Under the status of a “denotified tribe”, they have no access to healthcare, fresh water, a quality education, or any judicial appeals. “The way administrators in independent India think and act is mostly acquired from the methods of British colonial rule.” Then how can governance be different? This question plagues Azad, who struggles to balance his father’s cynicism and his grandfather’s optimism.
A Touch of Salt explores the lives of Agarias in piercing detail, from their painfully salt-laden legs to their extreme thirst for fresh water. In doing so, it deserves a wider audience who can immerse themselves into a world relatively unexplored in any literature, let alone Indian literature. However, for readers with a basic understanding of the Dandi march and the importance of salt in the Indian freedom struggle, the detailed historical explanation can drag. The logistics of the Sabarmati Ashram and the conduct of civil disobedience create a repetitiveness that is regrettable in a novel that doesn’t even reach two hundred pages. For non-Indian readers, Agnihotri crafts a masterful connection between the materials of the freedom struggle—swadeshi salt—and the eventual abandonment of these exact principles in independent India.