The author talks about how identity and politics play a huge role in his writing.
Abdullah Khan will be at The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Chennai on January 26-27.
Abdullah Khan’s journey with literature began with a discovery — that he shared his place of birth, Motihari in Bihar, with one of the most prominent authors of the 20th century, George Orwell. Since then, the written word has remained Khan’s constant companion. From his debut novel Patna Blues (2018) to his latest, A Man From Motihari (2023), Khan employs a deft handling of sensitive subjects and hot-button issues to tell stories of everyday characters in Indian society. A speaker at The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Chennai on January 26-27, Khan discusses his thoughts on identity, desire and aspiration.
Edited excerpts:
How much of what you write is influenced by your own story?
During my school days in Bihar, my history teacher once asked, “Are you Muslim first or Indian first?” I confidently replied, borrowing the answer from my grand uncle: “I am both, born to Muslim parents, I’m Muslim; born in India, I’m Indian. Both identities came to me at birth.” As a boy, I didn’t fully grasp the complexities of identity.
During college, I pondered over how identity shapes thoughts, realising we’re not always aware of every facet of our identity. Sub-identities and super-identities emerge, revealed by others’ prejudices. In my village, I was Pathan; in school, a Muslim. Beyond Bihar, a Bihari. These identities intrigued me.
As I ventured into fiction writing, my reflections on identity seamlessly became woven into my stories. And, conflict between circumstances and desire is integral to human existence and is a vital element in crafting engaging narratives. I found inspiration in Bihari IAS/ civil services aspirants, news, historical incidents, real-life characters, beautiful places, and even SMS/ WhatsApp forwards for plot ideas.
What comes first — the plot or the point it makes? And in the case of ‘A Man from Motihari’, what was the genesis of the story?
Plots and characters naturally come to me without any preconceived plan. As I create the story, some significant points or messages often emerge organically.
Take, for instance, the inspiration behind A Man from Motihari. A few years ago, a Bangladeshi newspaper asked me to write about the house in Motihari where Orwell was born. While standing in front of that house, I had an idea: what if a boy from Motihari is born in the same room where Orwell was born many years ago? How would the boy react when he finds out, and how would it change his life? That’s how I came up with the character of the protagonist, Aslam Sher Khan, who is born in the same house as Orwell.
Tell us about your journey — from writing to publication.
Fresh out of completing my Master’s in chemistry, when I began writing Patna Blues, I had no knowledge of the technicalities of fiction writing and no background in literature. So, writing Patna Blues served as a kind of training for me, a sort of MFA, where I learned everything from scratch through trial and error. It took almost 10 years to write and nearly 9 years to get it published. I didn’t have a peer group then for beta reading or sharing comments. The journey to publication was challenging, enduring more than 200 rejections before it was published.
For my second novel, it took no more than a year to write, and finding a publisher was comparatively easier. Style-wise, I have improved significantly and gained more confidence in my writing.
There are strong political notes in your stories. What kind of responsibility do you feel towards your readers in terms of what you write about?
I believe no story exists in a vacuum. I allow the politics of the time to become a part of the narrative as I believe it is the only way to tell authentic stories.
While writing about politics, I do not shirk my responsibility as a writer and chronicler of the truth. I strive to be as impartial as possible. I generally don’t allow my personal beliefs or political ideology to creep into the story. Instead, I focus on the characters’ take on the politics of that time and keep myself a bit distant from those events.
What’s your take on literature festivals? What can they do for writers, and their readers?
Literature festivals offer writers a chance to share ideas. They gain inspiration and build a community, while readers enjoy insights into the creative process. As writers, we also get a chance to meet authors from all over the world, and learn from each other.
I think we should do more at these festivals for aspiring authors, like arranging pitching events or conducting writing masterclasses.
I have also observed a disturbing trend at many literature fests, where organisers invite celebrities such as film stars or cricketers to boost attendance. This often shifts the entire limelight to them, sidelining writers.
Gsquare Group presents The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 in Association with NITTE Education Trust & Christ University. Bookstore partner: Higginbothams
swati.daftuar@thehindu.co.in
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Litfest> The Hindu Litfest 2024 / by Swati Daftuar / January 05th, 2024
Author Nuzhat Khan weaves a story of love and loss against the backdrop of Uttarakhand’s forest fire catastrophe in her latest novel.
Author Nuzhat Khan | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Author Nuzhat Khan is among the growing tribe of writers confronting the world’s most pressing issue — climate emergency and the unfolding weather catastrophe — through a genre of fiction set in natural ecosystems. In her latest novel Whistling Woods (Petals Publishers), she highlights the impact of forest fire on people’s livelihood in Uttarakhand along with the story of two strangers — Akshay and Kaveri — who embark on a journey of self-discovery to the hills.
Nuzhat says the book is her way of doing her bit for Nature and the environment. “Growing up in Almora hill station amidst the snow-capped Himalayan ranges of Uttarakhand, I was blown away by the stunning landscape. This is the case with anyone who belongs to the hills. It pained me to watch forest fires ravage the serene hills.” She decided to act by writing a light-hearted story around the issue to reach out to more people. “I thought presenting plain facts and figures would be drab on topics like, what’s fuelling forest fires that continue to scorch hectares of green cover? I have tried to propose a solution, although it may not be the perfect one,” she says.
Her style of storytelling, both evocative and driven by research, helps readers get a grip of the issue while enjoying the budding romance between the lead characters. “I have attempted to capture a mix of human emotions, complexity of relationships, and the innocence of love. The setting helped me run parallels between urban and rural lives. For people in villages, even access to clean drinking water can be challenging ” explains Nuzhat adding that the book has been in the making for five years which also involved several trips to institutes like Avani Bio-Energy plant in Pithoragarh, the Naula Foundation, an NGO that creates awareness on the problems of dying aquifiers (naulas) in the hills of Uttarakhand.
“My interactions with the locals and forest department officials was an eye-opener. They are constantly working to mitigate the problem. Organisations like the Himalayan Institute For Environment, Ecology & Development have developed fire reporting apps that can alert people on forest fires across various locations.”
She points out that the ashram described in the book that works towards empowering girl children was inspired by the Lakshmi Ashram run by a couple in Uttarakhand. “Some of the characters are not entirely fictional,” she hints.
The book also touches upon excessive tourism in the hills. “Several unplanned constructions in the form of resorts have come up usurping the forest cover and triggering landslides. The region is also prone to earthquakes.” She wants people to sit up and take note of Uttarakhand. “Everyone wants to live in the hills. I want to tell them it is beautiful, but everyday life can be challenging.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Books / by K Jeshi / December 26th, 2023
In your final rest
on a rope-cot,
were you still dreaming
of a piece of bread?
Beloved one,
we the people
of this country,
of that country,
can make anything
but a piece of bread
for you.
--Evening with a Sufi: Selected Poemsby Afsar Mohammad, translated from the Telugu by Afsar Mohammad & Shamala Gallagher, Red River Books, 2022.
These lines send shivers down the spine and recreate an empathetic longing for immigrant souls in search of succour. They also swiftly draw an image laced with poignancy — a loss, a regret, the economics that deny innovative young men their keep and force immigration in search of sustenance. Would the poet have been one of them?
Travelling from a small village in the South Indian state of Telangana, Afsar Mohammad has journeyed across continents and now teaches South Asian Studies at the University of Pennsylvania. Known as a trendsetting poet and literary critic for post-1980s Telugu literature, Afsar has brought out five volumes of poetry, one collection of short stories and two volumes of literary theory essays. He is also a distinguished scholar of Indian studies and has published extensively with various international presses, including Oxford and Cambridge. He is currently working on a translation of Sufi poetry from Telugu to English. In this interview, we trace his growth as a writer and editor of the webzine, Saranga, which now seems to be transcending linguistic barriers to give voice to multiple cultures…
Tell us about your journey as a writer. When and how did it start?
It’s a long story, but to cut it short — the beginnings were somewhat puzzling… Inspired by Shakespearean sonnets, I first wrote some sonnets in English, and then switched to free verse. Since most of my friends in my high school started pushing me to write something in Telugu, I had to migrate to Telugu. Quite surprisingly, I was first published in English, and then it took me a while to get something published in Telugu. I had hard time getting published in Telugu due to its newness in expressions and most editors felt that there was nothing “Telugu” in that kind of writing. So, my early writings quite naturally found their home in some English journals!
Your poetry rings with the pain of distance, the pain and struggle from others’ suffering transcending your own self. What is the source of your inspiration — is it your past or your present?What affects you more — your being an immigrant or a Sufi?
We’re distanced by many things — not just physically! We live in many shattered and scattered worlds, and sometimes we fail to reflect on those worlds. I feel like I’m a constant immigrant — despite my formal citizenship and legal boundaries. Sufism is merely a segment of this expansive realm. Both past and present define our destiny, right?! Of course, I try to live in the present rather than in the past, but never deny the baggage of the past.
Why do you subscribe to the Sufi school of poetry? What is Sufism all about?
I come from an extremely local rural setting where such Sufi mystical practices openly defined my everyday life. It’s not about the technicalities and theories or institutionalised Sufi schools of their philosophies, this is more about what I learned from my childhood, and its physical surroundings dotted by several hybrid shrines. I’ve described this cultural setting in my 2013 Oxford University Press publication, The Festival of Pirs: Popular Islam and Shared Devotion in South India. This version of Sufism has more to do with everyday life rather than a spiritual domain.
You have lived away from your country for long, and yet the past seems to still haunt you. What is the identity you seek as a poet? Is it necessary to have a unique identity or can one be like a drop that flows and moulds as per the needs of the vessel?
In a way — physically– I’m away from my birth place, but in many ways, I’m also closer to my homeland than in my past. When I moved away from the actual picture, I see many dimensions from a new lens. Each dimension contributed to my rethinking and reconsidering the idea of India. As I wander around and meet totally different places and people, I learn more about my birthplace and moved a little closer to it. I totally understand this as a process to reconcile with the past and connect it to a new present intensified by many factors, not just personal. We’re living in a virtual world, which also looks like “real” in its sounds, colours and words. Every moment it makes me realise that I’m actually not that far. On the other hand, I also see the people in my homeland who are far more removed by their immediate reality and everyday experiences. We need to read this conditionality more in terms of perspective rather than physical distance.
You are fluent in Telugu, Urdu and English. You started writing in English and then moved to Telugu. And all your poetry collections have been in Telugu. Why? Would the outreach of English not have been wider? What made you pick Telugu over English?
Great question! My literary graph is neither linear nor simplistic. When I look back and reflect on it, it’s a quite messy roadmap — actually, there’s nothing like a map to get its contours. Yes, I started writing in English and then suddenly stopped sending out the poems to magazines. In fact, I write more in my personal journals rather than in print journals. Theoretically, I saw poetry as a personal diary for my experiences for many years. Due to financial concerns within my family, I had to start working very early on and left most of my journals at home. Then, my friends found them by chance and put them together that became my first collection of poems in Telugu. The collection was an instant success for its innovative style and then that opened up my career in Telugu rather than English which was my first language of literary expression.
You are now bringing out a bi-lingual online magazine, Saranga? What made you think of a magazine in two languages?
Before entering into teaching career, I worked as an editor of the literary supplement and Sunday magazine for a largest circulated Telugu newspaper. When we moved to the USA, I thought it would be better to have some outlet to engage with my home language and literature. In the early phase, Saranga was primarily a Telugu webmagazine. When I started teaching South Asian literature, then I realised the importance of making Indian literary texts available to contemporary generation in the USA. That was just one reason, but there’re were many factors as our team saw a rise in the Indian diaspora writings in the new millennium. Luckily, we got wonderful support from writers and poets in various Indian languages. The humble beginnings have actually ended up as a rewarding experience.
What is it you look for in contributors from two languages? Is it the same guidelines or different?
We’re still learning how this works! As it appears now, these two sections require two different approaches and guidelines. Since the English section has been now attracting writers from various languages, it’s moving more towards a multi-lingual base. We’re trying to accommodate more translations into English from different Indian languages. We still need to do lots of work there.
Is the journal only aimed at South Asian diaspora or would you be extending your services to all cultures and all geographies?
Saranga, as we see it right now, is more about South Asia and its diaspora. As you know, we need more such spaces for South Asia and its diaspora. Not sure about its future directions at this point, however, if the situation demands, we will extend its services further.
You have number of essays and academic books in English. But all your creative writing is in Telugu. Why? Would you be thinking of writing in English too because proficiency in the language is obviously not an issue?
Most of my academic writing came out of my teaching experience. As I started teaching new courses, I then realised that we need more material from South Asia. I started focusing on producing such materials primarily for my courses and then gradually, they became useful for many academicians elsewhere too. I still believe creating writing as a more personal space — that enables me to articulate more about myself. However, the publication of Evening with a Sufi, brought a new change — as I’ve been getting more requests for more writing in English for the last two years. As you know pretty well, I’m an extremely slow writer.
How do you perceive language as a tool for a poet?
I see language working many ways since I dwell in multiple languages. I started my elementary education in Urdu, and my middle school was in Telugu, and the subsequent studies were in English. Through the last day of her life, my mother was extremely particular about me learning Arabic and Farsi. So, I believe that helped me so much to understand how language works in a poem. When I published my first poem in Telugu, the immediate critique was it was a not a “Telugu” poem. Telugu literary critics labelled me as a poet who thinks either in Urdu or English, then writes in Telugu. Of course, most of them were also fascinated by the new syntax of my Telugu poems and the new images and metaphors—that totally deviate from a normative or mainstream Telugu poem of those days. The uses of language in a poem varies for each poet. If you’re reading, writing and thinking in just “one” language, that might be a safe condition. A contemporary or modern poet, however, belongs to many languages and cultures. We also migrate from one language to another in our everyday life.
Do borders of nationalism, mother tongue and geographies divide or connect in your opinion? Do these impact your writing?
The response to this question might be an extension to the above conditionality of a person. Anyway, I’m not a big fan of those ideas of nationalism, mother tongue and singular geographies. They don’t exist in my world. Most of my writings both creative and academic contest such boundaries and borders. To describe this in a single term- borderless. In fact, I believe we’re all borderless, but unfortunately, many boundaries and borders are now being imposed on our personalities.
(The online interview has been conducted by emails by Mitali Chakravarty)
Mehrunissa Dalwai is not a common name heard amongst the slew of activists & yet she played an integral role in the Muslim reformist movement.
India, as a nation, treasures the ‘image‘ of women. There is a great sense of respect and reverence for female goddesses, traditional housewives and of course, the concept of our ‘motherland‘. Yet, when this image of a woman intersects with religion, caste and class, this view gets blurry and distorted. Similarly, being a Muslim woman in India is a battle unlike any other and brings with it a series of struggles, discrimination and prejudice. The nation is graced with a history of several prominent social activists who have been instrumental in bringing about change across the country, with several of them being unhonoured and forgotten, such as Mehrunnisa Dalwai.
Source: The Hindu
Mehrunissa Dalwai is not a common name heard amongst the slew of social reformers and activists that are popular in Indian society. Yet here we have a woman who played an integral role in the Muslim reformist movement. Born on May 25, 1930, and brought up in Pune, Dalwai came from a conservative, Urdu-speaking Muslim family.
While Mehrunnisa Dalwai underwent a traditional Urdu education, she still managed to master the language of Marathi. She later went on to write her autobiography ‘Mi Bharoon Paavle Aahe‘ in the Marathi language (where she also writes in detail regarding food and recipes). After completing her matriculation, she worked at the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC) in the city of Mumbai.
The beginning of her journey
After moving to Mumbai, it was here that Mehrunnisa Dalwai met the progressive Muslim reformer, Hamid Dalwai, and thus her fate as a future representative of the Muslim community was sealed. Hamid came from a poor Konkani Muslim family, a stark difference from Mehrunissa, and worked for the upliftment of the poor status of women in the Muslim community.
His name was established in the community for his daring stances like the condemnation of practices of triple talaq, alimony and polygamy. He was also an author, publishing the classic, ‘Indhan’ in 1965 and was courageous to take a stand against Brahmanical Hinduism as well as radical Islam and the two of them contributed greatly towards the liberalisation of the Muslim community.
Being a Muslim woman in India is a battle unlike any other and brings with it a series of struggles, discrimination and prejudice.
However, being such a controversial figure, he remained unemployed. His most controversial take yet was when Mehrunnisa Dalwai declared that she would marry him. The large class disparity and general stigma of an upper-class woman marrying beneath her caused quite the stir which Hamid of course was used to. The two were married through traditional Muslim rituals and after a month also married through the ‘Special Marriage Act‘ (1954), which possibly made them one of the first marriages of a Muslim couple to be registered that way.
Source: Jargon Josh
The Special Marriage Act was one of Independent India’s methods of maintaining a secular fabric in society, mainly to protect and legalise interreligious and inter-caste marriages that were atypical to the usually arranged marriages of dominant Indian culture. The newly married couple found a space for themselves in the Majaswadi area of Jogeshwari. They resided in a small room which got even smaller as they were joined by Hamid’s younger siblings, one of whom was Hussain Dalwai, the Rajya Sabha MP of the Congress party, who had completed his education in Mumbai.
The social work of the Mehrunnisa Dalwai
In his wife, he found a partner in crime, a fellow crusader and together they took many bold stands for justice and equal rights of Muslim women. Mehrunnisa Dalwai continued working as well as remaining dedicated to her ascribed role of a housewife, maintaining their life at home. Although juggling the two seems like a modern concept of a 21st-century working woman, Mehrunissa was ahead of her time and supported her husband’s endeavours.
Mehrunnisa’s salary was their only stable and regular source of income, but along with this she still found the time to put a part of herself into Hamid’s work of the organisation of movements, social protests and campaigns along with bringing about a rational and scientific school of thought to the forefront to eradicate the rigid and blind dogmas within Muslim community which caused an unequal balance of power and rights of men and women.
Source: Amazon
In Mehrunissa Dalwai’s autobiography, she mentions her husband’s gratitude for her role and the satisfaction that she was able to economically support her family during these times. The life of a social activist and reformer is not one of ease. Dalwai also mentions the tensions within the protest movements and the threats that were posed against her husband by the orthodox Muslim community. Although she herself was not actively involved in the movement until after his death, through her writing, it is visible that being tied to Hamid meant being under the fire.
Source: The Indian Express Marathi
Sadly, Hamid passed away from kidney failure in 1977 at the age of 44. After the tragic death of her husband, she threw herself into his work. She dedicated her time to the Muslim Satyashodak Mandal which was the reformist organisation founded by Hamid in Pune, focussing on providing solutions to the Muslim community and creating a space for its history and socio-cultural transformation.
Mehrunissa Dalwai dedicated a good part of her life to this organisation and was the first executive President and later served as President for several decades.
Mehrunnisa’s journey of leadership
In April 1996, Mehrunissa Dalwai boldly led a march to ‘Mantralaya’ in Mumbai along with six other women carrying on the work of her late husband in the abolition of triple talaq. There, they met Vasantrao Naik, the Chief Minister of Maharashtra at the time and gave him their memorandum of demands. This caused a big stir leading to strong opposition, meetings being constantly interrupted and even reached the extent of death threats.
Source: News 18
Mehrunissa Dalwai continued to lead the movement of protecting the rights of Muslim women and the modern reformation of the Muslim community. She later founded the Hamid Dalwai Islamic Research Institute as well as the Maharashtra Talaw Mukti Morcha.
The Shah Bano case
During Dalwai’s leadership of the Muslim Satsyashodak Mandal, the organisation played an important role in the Shah Bano case. This case was seen as a milestone in the fight for equal rights of Muslim women in India as well as the ongoing battle against the orthodoxy of Muslim personal law. The case was unprecedented and paved the way for other women to make similar legitimate claims.
In 1978, a 62-year-old Muslim woman, Shah Bano filed a petition in court against her divorced husband Mohammed Ahmad Khan, demanding maintenance (alimony)after she was given talaq by Khan. After a series of detailed sessions in court, in 1985, it was taken to the Supreme Court where Chief Justice Y. V. Chandrachud upheld the decision made in the High Court, ensuring that maintenance would be given to Shah Bano (under CrPC, the Code of Criminal Procedure). However, the Congress led by Rajiv Gandhi overturned the decision of the Supreme Court under serious pressure faced by Ulemas and Maulavis but the Muslim Satyashodak Mandal boldly opposed this action and through a series of protests, insisted that it be implemented.
Source: One India One People
Mehrunissa Dalwai passed away at the age of 87 at her home in Pune, survived by her two daughters and as per her last wishes, her body was donated. Maharashtra has had a history of significantly active social reformers and social activists, especially in Pune. They have been important in altering the culture and norms of the city with their hard work and effort and have brought about positive change in society.
In this process, there are many names that get lost, therefore it is essential to remember those like Mehrunissa Dalwai so as to not forget that they are an important and enriching part of our history.
source: http://www.feminisminindia.com / Feminism In India / Home> History / by Gia Alvares / April 10th, 2023
