To blame or not to blame, fate. That is the question.

In Umrao Jan Ada Ruswa, in his somewhat pseudo realist novel, depicts for us this quite unbelievable transformation of a courtesan into a devout Muslim woman. Two quotes that really caught my attention in and of the discussion of her transformation were:

“My downfall is attributable to Dilavar Khan’s wickedness. If he had not abducted me and sold me to Khanum, my destiny would not have been fulfilled. Those things, which I have long since repented, I could hardly have understood their true nature at the time. Nor was I aware of any law which might make me refrain from them, or persuade me that I would be punished if I did them.”

Also,

“I have often thought deeply about chance and plan, and have come to the conclusion that people us these terms mistakenly. If the meaning of it is that God knows all about us from the beginning of eternity, it is obvious that the infidel is one who has no belief. But most people—may God forgive them!—attribute the results of wrong-doing to fate, and put all the blame on God. Surely they are the real infidels.”

I find it quite interesting that Umrao Jan not only blames Dilavar Khan for her sinful lifestyle, but also simultaneously blames God himself. God’s plan for her was to become a sinner by fate/Gods plan (though those who attribute their wrong doings to fate are infidels) and it is because Dilavar that her destiny was fulfilled. I question even more how one can truthfully repent their sins when they take no personal blame in then. It seems to me like the backbone of any religious transition, taking blame and repenting.