Indian dystopias: 8 sci-fi books that explore bleak futures from an Indian perspective

Prayaag Akbar's Leila, Manjula Padmanabhan's Harvest, and Varun Mathew’s The Black Dwarves of the Good Little Bay.

Indian literature spans epics, mythology, romances, folklore and more. Yet Indian science fiction remains overlooked. Regional language science-fiction is often dismissed as “pulp”. Indian science-fiction in English is considered “niche”. Yet there remains a large pool of Indian authors writing in English, drawing inspiration from global literary traditions and creating “Indian science-fiction”.

Dystopia is a long-standing staple of science-fiction. Essentially narratives showing unsettling futures, dystopias are cautionary tales extrapolating and exaggerating our society’s fears. Indian dystopian novels do the same, reflecting uniquely Indian fears. Some Indian dystopias reflect the ugliness of the caste system in grim volatile futures with extreme inequalities. Some examine dangers of patriarchy, drawing on existing misogyny in Indian society and skewed sex ratios. Others depict totalitarian regimes suppressing all dissent through censorship and mind control. These distinct apprehensions take centre stage in the books below.

In Varun Mathew’s The Black Dwarves of the Good Little Bay  set in a futuristic Bombadrome, most residents live comfortable though sequestered lives with access to water, healthcare and other services. Today’s social inequalities seem absent.  A utopia - but not quite.  One lone civil servant from a bygone era  insists on living outside the drome, in the now drought-ridden city (where rain is a myth). He will awaken the city’s past and not forget atrocities and cruelties that are convenient to forget. He forces Bombadrome and readers to evaluate how we build our futures. The narrative blends magical realism, fantasy and sci-fi. It is deeply rooted in the times we live in, addressing majoritarian politics, collective amnesia and caste inequalities. Despite being a debut work, the writing is sharp and convincing, transporting you from Kerala to vibrant chaotic Mumbai to fictional dystopian Bombadrome. All places feel vivid and real as do the characters. An easy read, the book will stay with you for days after you have read it.

Manjula Padmanabhan is another Indian author who forays into bleak, dark futures. In Harvest (again set in a future Bombay), human beings are commodified and their organs sold to mysterious first-worlders who tech-surveil their donors in their one-room chawls. In her two other books - “Escape” and “Island of Lost Girls” - Padmanabhan crafts a fictional realm that eliminates women after cloning technology makes reproduction viable without them. The land is controlled by “General”, who could be one or many clones.  Men live isolated existences cloistered in estates. Meiji, a young girl, hidden from this genocide, embarks on an epic journey through radioactive wastelands to find sanctuary. She is yet to discover what gender means and what the outside world holds. In the second book, she finds herself in the island of broken girls - a place as horrifying as the one she left. This two-book series feels incomplete. Though difficult to read due to bleak landscapes and searing cruelty, the author has infused these books with compassion, reflecting the complexity of humanity.

In Leila (also a series on Netflix) by Prayaag Akbar, a mother, sequestered in a purity camp, searches for her daughter, reminiscent of The Handmaid's Tale. Women marrying outside their faith are enslaved and sent off to camps to be “re-programmed”.  The backdrop, with the wealthy living in “sectors” hoarding resources in a world where fresh air and water are precious commodities, centres it squarely in India. The book’s unflinching gaze on religious bigotry, class and privilege makes it a fresh voice.

Hachette India; 320 pages; Rs 550

Technology and unequal access to technology exacerbating inequalities is another concern in many dystopias.  In Analog/Virtual and Other Simulations of Your Future, Lavanya Lakshminarayan presents a new Bangalore, now rebranded as Bell corporation. Technology is key to survival. Those who align with the corporation ascend and have their every need met. Those who don't are marked as Analog and deported - with no access to electricity, water and of course technology. Though the premise is interesting the book falls short of fully exploring these tensions with its vignette style narrative lacking a cohesive plot.

Fourth Estate India; 388 pages; Rs 399.

In contrast, The Immortal King Rao (a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize) by Vauhini Vara expertly explores similar themes. This book spans India and America, combining an Indian family saga with a dystopian narrative. This dystopian new world is run by corporations, shareholders and boards. King Rao, a Dalit, raised on coconut plantations in India, founds Coconut Corporation in the US. His technology, which can upload human consciousness, thoughts and memories to the internet, ushers in an era of shareholder state. Dissenters (including King Rao’s daughter Athena) are exiled to isolated existences on islands. The book packs a lot - love, family, climate change, how memories function. It introduces complex ideas to critique digital alienation, exploitation and ecological violence.

These are a handful of books. There are many more, including Gautham Bhatia’s The Wall series, Nayantara Bose’s Where the Moon Shines and many of Samit Basu’s works, including Chosen Spirits. Explore them or follow your own rabbit holes.  An entire realm of dystopian narratives in vernacular languages remains largely uncharted and promises intriguing and enriching reads. However, tags like “science fiction” and “dystopia” don’t apply as well to vernacular literature, which has evolved in its own traditions, defying these tags.

Dystopian narratives are not just unsettling, they also inspire introspection. That is what makes them compelling. A good dystopian novel is not just a tale of a doomed future. It makes the reader uncomfortable but also challenges us to reimagine our lives, re-evaluate our values. It encourages hope for a better world, or at least a healthy skepticism for anybody peddling a utopia.