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Tabish Khair is associate professor in the Department of English, University of Aarhus, Denmark. Born and educated mostly in Gaya, India, he is the author of various books, including the poetry collection "Where Parallel Lines Meet" (2000), and the study, "Babu Fictions" (2001). He completed his Ph.D. from Copenhagen University, Denmark, and is currently teaching in the English Department of Copenhagen University. He is author of three collections of poems and light verse, and a novel. He won the All India Poetry Competition in 1995-96. |
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In both "The Bus Stopped" and "Filming" was your primary objective one of throwing light on society as a writer or that of ordering the lives of a bunch of motley characters to create an engaging narrative?
I don't think there is any real contradiction between the two. Or not for me, because I do not write in order to be a 'writer' or 'cultured' or 'famous' or 'rich.' I write because I feel that some stories have to be told, and I do not find many other writers telling those stories, or not in the way people like me see those stories. Inevitably, what I write ends up interacting with society: it comes from out there and goes back there. But again, in order to feel the drive to write on, in order to be gripped by my own art, I need characters that interest me wholly and I need an engaging narrative. So both aspects are necessary – society and art, message and entertainment – even for the writer qua writer.
Reading "Where Parallel Lines Meet", an unmistakable wistfulness exudes every time the "past" and the "present" parallels meet – Are you achieving a poetic reconciliation that is elusive in reality?
'Where Parallel Lines Meet' mostly contained poems written in my first years abroad. The wistfulness might have had to do with the fact that I was around 30 when I left India and I had never planned to leave: it happened due to personal reasons. But your suggestion of 'reconciliation' is pretty close to my poetic endeavour in that collection. The overall idea was that parallel lines meet in infinity (by definition), but the only infinity known to human beings is, so to say, the human heart. It is the infinity of human feelings, empathy and experiences across differences. I think good poetry – and good creative literature in general – often enables connections ('reconciliation') across differences. Not the erasure of differences or their consumption or a simplistic celebration of differences, but a living with differences.
Indian themes in Indian images permeate your works. How does it feel to be an Indian expatriate writer?
I guess Indian images and themes are common in my work because I grew up and was educated in India. It might change with time, but until now I have continued to see myself as an Indian who just happens to be living abroad. I have latched on to my Indian passport, despite the difficulties in travel that 'Third World' passports pose in the 'developed' world and sometimes elsewhere. And I feel that I still have to write my small town Bihar novel: I hope to go back to Bihar for a few years and do it, if life permits. I also see myself as returning to India in the future, not for nostalgic reasons, but because I still have stories to tell about India, stories I cannot tell from here.
Coming to your recent book, "The Glum Peacock" – What is the message that you wish to communicate to the children? Is it a warning on the hostilities inevitable in community living? Are you suggesting a recourse to the means that Miss Snake takes?
Oh no, Miss Snake is clever and smart, but she is not an ideal! The book – and I think most of the credit for it should go to its brilliant illustrator, Nilima Eriyat – was fashioned against the kind of identity politics that one sees today. People have to belong here or there. The swan is white. The crow is black. But what about the poor peacock? He is all possible colours. How can he live? What can he be? Well, the answer is: what can he be but a peacock?
What is the thought behind your choice of the Snake as the clever and resourceful friend? Why not the Owl or the Elephant with their wise ways?
I wanted to avoid the usual stereotypes, at least to some extent. The Owl and the Elephant, for instance. Or the Monkey. And I have always felt that snakes get a raw deal in life; they are beaten out of the grass and out of narratives too. From the Old Testament downwards. But they are resourceful, ambidextrous beings, largely minding their own business, and capable of taking care of themselves. I also liked the idea of the snake being female: it turned around the usual narrative of males solving the problems of females, 'saving' them.
Losing all its colours, a condition of estrangement and mockery descends on the Peacock. Is such an identity-crisis (both before and after the metamorphosis) imperative for realising one's latent potential?
I think we mock ourselves when we let the world tell us what we are. But then, it is hard to learn to see your own self. And it is hard to live with difference. You can read in history and the newspapers how often people want to exterminate other people who are different, or to 'civilize' them into sameness. But it is even harder to live with being different yourself. The two go together: letting others be who they are, and allowing yourself to be who you are. The two are interlinked and hence posit the necessary terms of mutual respect and personal well-being. I think this is what all of us, like the Peacock, have to learn. And to keep from forgetting. |
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Padmini Mongia is a Professor of English at Franklin & Marshall College. She is the author of the critically acclaimed Contemporary Postcolonial Theory. Her teaching interests range spans from The Gothic Novel to Late-Nineteenth Century, British Literature to Indian Fiction in English, Postcolonial Literature and Theory to Women's Literature. She lives in Lancaster and Philadelphia. She is working on a book that examines the space that's become available to Indian writing in English over the last twenty years. |
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From Postcolonial Theory to Pchak Pchak, it seems a very long way. What inspired the shift?
I wouldn't actually describe things in this way. Rather than a "long way" between the two, I'd say they're places on two different roads. Any individual has several interests at once, although people don't always get the chance to explore their many interests. I'm glad I did. I've been telling stories for a long time. When I had some extended time off for other research, I was able to find the mental space to write down some of my stories. Pchak, Pchak is one of them.
Illustrations go a long way in capturing the attention of children. Ms. Anita Varma has done a wonderful job on the pages. Did you have any specific points in mind while deciding on the pictorial look of Pchak Pchak?
The visual dimension of the book was basically handled by the publishers. I wanted the atmosphere of the place to be vivid and I wanted the crocodiles to be different from each other and to have a range of expressions. I think Anita Varma did a great job with the creatures. She's managed to get fear, and authority, and tenderness across, and I think that's amazing.
With fresh initiatives like the AWIC : Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children or the Khaas Kitab Foundation or Tamanna catering to literature for special children, do you think children’s literature in India is working towards earning a special place long due to it?
Yes, I do. I think Children's Literature here has long been overlooked. Essentially, we haven't had any, except folk-tales. That's changed, thankfully, and what we see is just the beginning of what will be an energetic and invigorating scene. The success of Bookaroo is a case in point. We're starved for events like that. Also, people are beginning to realize that kids books in and of India are well-written and well-produced, in addition to offering familiar worlds to its readers.
Indian regional folklore was quite popular in yester-years. However, interest in them have waned much with time. Where do you think the reason lies?
For the longest time, the only works for children about India and by Indians were folk-tales. Children have received countless presents of folk-tales from various parts of the country. Often these books are ill-produced, at least they used to be, with dull illustrations and moralistic lessons. Personally, I have nothing against folk-tales. In fact, I quite like the genre and would love to play with it as a writer. But children don't want moral tales telling them how to think and become ever more upright. Also, I think we Indians have had a surfeit of folk-tales. I totally understand people wanting to get some air and read something else!
Children’s entertainment today largely constitutes of animation features both in print (Comics, Manga series etc.) and television. How much does children’s literature (short stories, novels) stand in competition?
I don't doubt that more easily digestible stuff - comics, animation, etc - are the hugely successful forms. The energy and inventiveness one sees in these areas is really wonderful. However, the pleasure afforded by a short story or novel is of an different order. I think people - including children - love to read and will continue to do so. More comics may sell, but that doesn't mean that children's books won't also sell. That's what the success of Harry Potter shows. Kids want to read and they're happy to read long and complicated books so long as they're good.
Pchak Pchak is for pre-primary kids. Shall we see you writing for older children sometime, maybe a different genre like ‘Mystery’ or ‘Adventure’ ?
Absolutely. I'm not very interested in mystery, but I am in Adventure. I already have a couple of "adventure" works that I need to fine-tune before publishing them. |
