Mallik Sajad’s ‘Munnu’, an autobiographical account of a young boy’s experiences in war-torn Kashmir, could have been a novel or a film. Still, the author chose to tell (and show) his story through graphic narrative.

This form, also known as comic books, is often associated with a more light-hearted tone. They were easy to read, and as kids, we loved them for their colourful pictures. They told stories of playful heroes and dreamy adventures.

I remember being scolded often by parents and teachers for reading comic books instead of more ‘serious’ books.

Yet, ‘Munnu’ is nothing if not earnest. It tells the sensitive story of a boy amid one of the world’s most devastating conflict zones. The text is filled with sorrow, horror, guilt, and traumatic memories.

Yet Sajad’s graphic narrative reminds us why we were hooked on comics. The fusion of texts and images makes for great storytelling.

Reading about Munnu's traumatic experiences is one thing. However, seeing them depicted in hand-drawn illustrations, with Munnu and the Kashmiris portrayed as deer, adds a relatable and sometimes almost childlike playfulness.

‘Munnu’ combines these feelings even more effectively; how do you deal with trauma when you see it through these hand-drawn, childlike lenses?

The story of a young boy

Yet, through these childlike lenses, Sajad focuses on children in war-torn states. This is similar to Marjane Satrapi’s ‘Persepolis’, another autobiographical graphic narrative about the experiences of a young girl in 1980s Tehran.

Most of the book is dedicated to Satrapi and Sajad's experiences growing up in such conflicts and their rationalisation.

In 'Munnu', this is mainly reflected in how he makes sense of death. When Mustafa, a local guardian figure, passes away, the 8-year-old Munnu ponders death, imagining what it would be like to be trapped in a grave and considering the possibility of losing various members of his family similarly.

His nightmares regarding his brother Bilal’s passing are incredibly haunting and presented brilliantly through distorted imagery.

Yet, a young boy's experiences also concern many more minor conflicts. Munnu’s dilemmas range from whether to send a poem to his crush to whether to speak in Kashmiri with the strict, puritanical teachers to how fun it was to make shapes while shaving his Abba’s beard.

Reading ‘Munnu’ reminded me of another wartime account of an adolescent, Anne Frank’s ‘The Diary of a Young Girl’. Much like Frank and Satrapi, Sajad’s book depicts adolescence, and reading about their experiences amidst such horrors evokes sadness and a glimmer of hope.

Art as a form of escapism

Anne Frank uses her diary to cope with the chaos around her, while Munnu finds solace in his art and drawings. Throughout the story, Munnu's art plays a significant role—granting him social status among his peers and evoking memories of his sculptor father.

Through his anecdotes about being a young cartoonist for a local newspaper, he even showcases how he deals with the difficulties he sees around himself.

The choice to depict Kashmiris as a deer is intriguing. By contrasting this with the Indian soldiers portrayed as humans, the depiction conveys the idea of Kashmiris being hunted while the Army is portrayed as the invaders.

Yet, the selection of deer, in particular, also focuses on how we find animals very sympathetic.

Seeing one’s pet in joy can be highly endearing; seeing the deer in ‘Munnu’ go through happiness and sadness can be equally mending or heart-wrenching. The graphic narrative form is all about strengthening the empathy between the reader and the subject through both image and text and ‘Munnu’ is an excellent example of that.

Why read Munnu

It is a heartfelt, brilliantly presented narrative, and the unique form keeps it refreshing. Munnu’s story has many flavours, much like the various food delicacies he associates with particular memories of his life. It can be hilarious, romantic, sad, hopeful, even adventurous.

It is also an easy read. Although it spans 350 pages, it would take only one or two sittings to finish. The artwork is engaging, with tons of hints and clues scattered around. I found the montage on Kashmiri history, right in the middle of the book, very engaging. It is also easy to read for anyone of any age, although the reader should be over 13 due to the use of profanity and heavy subject matter.

Lastly, ‘Munnu’ is a tremendous educational avenue for the Kashmir conflict. The book is biased, showing only one side of the conflict. But that shouldn’t stop readers from acknowledging the grounded, empathetic story of the text.

The world of Batamaloo in Sajad’s ‘Munnu’ reminded me of another story set in this space, the similar-sounding Baramulla of Vishal Bhardwaj’s ‘Haider’.

The conflict of Kashmir is revisited often, but ‘Munnu’ offers a new perspective. It can be very gripping heart-wrenching, yet hopeful.

Munnu: A Boy From Kashmir

Author: Mallik Sajad

Year: 2015

Publisher: Fourth Estate London