A Storm Named 'Snow'

I’m 42. I fall in love head over heals. But it ends unrequited (after the initial promise of togetherness and happiness). I return to my solitude, drinks and dream-world. At 46 I am shot (and killed) for my transgressions of the past.

If only ‘Snow’ could be summarised thus!

Orhan Pamuk paints a compelling, claustrophobic, dark, bleak and surreal picture in ‘Snow’. It’s not just the story of Ka, the poet, a political exile and his quest for happiness. It tells us the story of a society in turbulence. It tells the story of the people whose faith shatters along with their lives.

This is the second Pamuk novel that I read. There are some threads that run common in both the novels. One is the presence of ever-falling snow. There is no respite from it. Second is the strong female characters (and of course they’re irresistibly beautiful). Ipek and Shekure (of ‘My Name Is Red’) share the same traits – they are women who know what they want. Third is the role of the author himself in the book (in ‘My Name Is Red’ Shekure tells us that she’s told the entire story to her son, Orhan). And just as in ‘My Name Is Red’ in ‘Snow’ too there’s a character named after a colour. But there end the similarities. Beyond this, the style of narration, the mood, characterisation, the setting, the time – all are different.

As the snowfall continues, the town of Kars gets cut off from the rest of the world. As the snow falls, the events unfold, the poet-protagonist’s beliefs are shaken, the insecurities increase, claustrophobia sets in, and the political tale grows morbid. Ka, caught in this vortex vacillates between his love for everything Western (and hence secular?) to his new awakening for the religion. And his belief in achieving ever-lasting happiness in the bliss of love wavers throughout too, before being doomed.

The conflict of ideologies – of the Left, Western and the Religious – forms the centre of ‘Snow’. The freedom of choice and its non-availability makes matters worse. This is evident in the play that is staged (the unavailability of a headscarf even to be used in a play in the 1930’s contrasts sharply with the gasps of shock expressed by the audience watching the same play in the 90’s). One might even be forgiven if one sees a soft corner in the author’s narration for the religious youth. Then again there is the irony of extramarital relationships, pre-marital sex, wining – all condemned by Islam. And the doubts of the existence of God in the minds of the believer. ‘Snow’ isn’t just a good reflection of what’s happening in the Turkish society but also is a wonderful mirror of the happenings in the entire world. When one reads about the headscarves girls of Kars, one’s mind immediately recalls the memories of the Muslim girls in Paris. It also reminded me of the ugly bias in India when the issue was all over the media, thanks to the Sikhs in Paris and elsewhere in France (“It is important that Sikhs be allowed to sport their headgear” everyone said but the same support wasn’t seen anywhere for the girls who wanted to cover their heads).

When I read ‘Snow’ I was overcome by extreme emotions. I haven’t found another fictional character like ‘Ka’ that I could relate to. I could see myself in his thought process, in his behaviour. I saw my own failures in his. I suffer from the same superstitions, fears and fallacies. I exhibit the same kind of supercilious attitudes. I marvelled at the author’s ability in creating such a character (of course I’m no poet like Ka) while also getting irrationally angry for laying me bare like this to myself.