Part V, titled A City Visible but Unseen, concerned the lives of ethnic immigrants in London. In it, chapter V.1 focused on prevalent racism and racist violence in England, and it included repeated references to Enoch Powell. After some deliberation with his ethnic friends, it dawned on Saladin that racist ideology rather than magic accounted for his satyrical transformation. However, in all fairness, racism was not simply an affect of the host nation or its dominant white population. Chapter V.1 equally displayed racial prejudices and exploitative relations among ethnic immigrants and dark-skinned people. Notably, faced with rejection by his English wife and professional abandonment, Saladin could not help but accept that his lifelong attempt at anglicization hit a dead end. And the kindness of the Bengali family that took care of him in that moment of immense personal despair innerly prepared Saladin to question his categorical rejection of ethnocultural ties and lack of solidarity with vulnerable migrants and minorities. Chapter V.2 switched to the relatively mild tribulations of white immigrants, specifically with reference to Gibreel’s lover Alleluia’s Eastern European Jewish heritage. In addition, it dwelt on Gibreel’s struggle with his mental state, ranging from an attempt to fight back against possible paranoid schizophrenia to an embrace of his archangelhood, divine mission, and growing religious zeal, which contrasted with his original Indian cultural eclecticism. Gibreel’s newly assumed task against Satan somehow paralleled Saladin’s seething envy for his apparent romantic success with Alleluia in the previous chapter, and these developments paved the way toward an ultimate confrontation between angel and devil.
Part VI, titled Return to Jahilia, chronicled Mahound’s triumphant comeback home after long exile. It included passages that gave most offense to Muslims and attracted violent protests worldwide. Above all, it dealt with Mahound’s misogyny and the notion of feminist revenge, questions about the authenticity of Submission or its revelation, and the irreconcilable tension between theocracy and intellectual freedom. That said, Mahound’s peaceful return home as the glorious founder of Submission, merciful and sparing reconciliation with former enemies, and relative tolerance—at least initially—contrasted favorably with other leading religious visionaries of The Satanic Verses, including the unbending and self-destructive Tavleen, violently hateful and murderous Imam, and even prophetess Ayesha, whose dogmatic zeal would be directly responsible for the senseless murder of an innocent infant. Arguably, critique of misogyny and prevalent occupation with the notion of feminist revenge in part V was the novel’s final groundwork for proposals for feminist Islamic reform as symbolized by the prophetess Ayesha story line. Since the demise of Submission’s Mahound was artfully related to two women, Hind and Al-lat, by implication, it could be claimed, Islam’s reconciliation with femininity, or feminist reform, was imperative for its fortunes. The most conspicuous exception to the aura of mercy upon Mahound’s return was the case of writers, thus pointing to the irreconciliable tension between theocratic establishment and freedom of conscience and expression. One writer, Salman the scribe, who had earlier tested Mahound’s theological hypocrisy and fled to Jahilia, saved his neck undignifiedly, through betraying the other, Baal the satirist. In hiding, Baal and his female company gradually came to embody a philosophical mirror image of Mahound and his family, and thereby supported a pocket of resistance for the people. In time, as Mahound’s theocracy tightened its grip on society, rather than abandon them, Baal choose to die for his muses.
Part VII, titled The Angel Azraeel, depicted the embodiment of Enoch Powell’s Rivers of Blood speech through a race riot and fire in the imaginary London neighborhood of Brickhall. Rushdie left little doubt that his narrative was inspired by the 1981 riots in Brixton, South London. But the title of part VII referred to angel Gibreel’s magical realist involvement in fueling the inferno. In it, chapter VII.1 was devoted to Saladin’s soul-searching, including his love for London, English culture, English wife, unfulfilled wish for fatherhood, and final attempt to regain enthusiasm for total assimilation. However, his attendance at a community event against racism, which among other things made him recall Enoch Powell’s rhetoric, inadvertently caused him to accept his demonic immigrant identity and, arguably, by implication a more radical strategy for integration. On the supernatural level, Saladin’s embrace of devilhood precipated a heinous encounter with the angel, Gibreel. Chapter VII.2 chronicled the way in which Saladin gained the trust of Gibreel and Alleluia and utterly ruined their relationship. Saladin’s playful telephonic utterances for the purpose were explicitly described as satanic verses and, thereby, reinforced the parity between the novel’s worldly and religious story lines. And the contrasting linkages between Saladin’s trademark attempt to disown his origins and remake himself and his devilry, on the one hand, and Gibreel’s recent obsession with cultural purity or wish to remain constant and his angelhood, on the other, further served to unite the novel’s secular and metaphysical dimensions. Chapter VII.3 described riot and fire in Brickhall, due to entrenched prejudice, police racism, and brutality against minorities. Yet in accord with Rushdie’s magical realism, a Gibreel with angelic-religious motives and in delirium because of his break up with Alleluia apparently started the deadly fire by supernatural means. As events unfolded, Saladin, in the role of the devil, risked his life to save the Bengali family that had previously sheltered him, and Gibreel saved his life. Hence in a roundabout way, these highly unconventional actions, or devil sacrificing his life to save humans from fire and exterminating angel saving devil, expressed The Satanic Verses’ case against strict epistemological dichotomies and preference for cultural hybridity.
Part VIII, titled The Parting of the Arabian Sea, was The Satanic Verses’ last section specifically devoted to Islam. Its title referred to Ayesha’s promise of a miracle on their foot-pilgrimage, but it served to put the novel’s all other religious chapters into comparative perspective. Accordingly, it was by and large The Satanic Verses’ final word on Islam. Despite her noticeable flaws that ultimately wasted a village people collectively, increased dogmatic hardness, and some vicious cruelty, Ayesha was still the best available contemporary alternative for her faith. This was because of the openness she promoted on three levels: openness to feminine leadership in a distinctly misogynistic religious tradition, openness to diversity and inclusion, or the erotics of her prophecy that accounted for a diverse fold in a society otherwise defined by intercommunal tensions, and openness to supernaturalism, as exemplified by Ayesha’ ability to eventually convince her skeptical opponent, the Mirza. Part VIII devoted considerable attention to the lure of material enjoyments as a counterweight to spiritualism, or its excesses, and the nature of miracles. Like elsewhere in the novel, it proposed intersubjectivity as a measure of veracity, and it warned against the tendency to confuse random natural phenomena, however timely, with supernatural miracles.
Part IX’s title, A Wonderful Lamp, referred to Saladin’s childhood belief in magic, possibly relegating supernaturalism to the nonage of humanity. Indeed as The Satanic Verses’ concluding chapter, part IX carried messages about both philosophy and religion, and immigration and identity. Saladin came back to Bombay to accompany his ailing father, Changez, and they made peace. And his blooming romance with a devotee cultural eclecticism in India, Zeeny Vakil, transformed his visit to a permanent return. A telling gesture, he reassumed his original name, Salahuddin. His sterility was arguably not an overwhelming concern for Salahuddin in Bombay, because he was deep-rooted there, whereas the affirmation that came with fatherhood was essential to psychologically secure his hold on to England or Englishness. As distinct from Salahuddin’s newfound eclecticism, Gibreel had totally succumbed to his archangelic phantasmagoria, religious dogmatism, and concurrent msygony. Evidently a reflection of the novel’s ultimate cultural political prefence, Gibreel, now madly dogmatic, committed suicide in front of Salahuddin, who—having reconverted to Indian eclecticism—survived. In parallel, part IX emphasized Salahuddin’s complete admiration for Changez, due to his philosophical attitude in the face of death, without seeking refuge in imaginative hope or religious illusions. The supreme dignity accorded to Changez suggested that the philosophical