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on record Vandana Shukla talks to Nadeem Aslam, UK-based writer Nadeem Aslam was born in 1966 in Gujranwala, Pakistan, and came to Britain at the age of 14. He went to Manchester University to study biochemistry but left in the third year to become a writer.
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‘For me, English is language of rage’ Vandana Shukla talks to Nadeem Aslam, UK-based writer
His debut novel, "Season of the Rainbirds", was published in 1993 and won two awards. He was 26 when he began writing "Maps for Lost Lovers" in 1992, thinking it would take him two years to complete - it took 11 years. It took him five years to write the first chapter. He prefers to write in absolute isolation, draping the windows with black cloth and not going out for weeks. His last published novel, "The Wasted Vigil", was written in seven months. During this time, he saw no one and lived through terrible poverty. When he received a Royal Literary Fund grant, he turned down a part of it, saying he didn't need that much. Excerpts: You inherited one of the most beautiful languages, Urdu, as your legacy. Why do you write in English? I was 14 when my father, a Communist poet and film director, had to flee Pakistan during President Zia-ul-Haq's regime. We came to live in England and English became my language of rage. I should have been writing in Urdu as I went to an Urdu-medium school in Pakistan. I was 13 when my first short story was published in an Urdu newspaper. At 15, I began learning the English alphabet. I would stammer and feel very shy because of my language inefficiency. It was only because of this constraint, I chose to study science. In science, you need to state only facts, but I left college and majoring in biochemistry in the third year to become a writer.
How did you get to publish your debut novel at 23? I read and re-read books by the authors I loved and then wrote the entire books in long hand, line by line, chapter by chapter. I wanted to know how these writers form their sentences and chapters. I wrote "Beloved", "Moby Dick", "Ulysses", "Autumn of the Patriarch" and works of my favourite writers and poets like Vasko Popa, Ivan V Lilac, Wislawa Szymborska, Herman Melville, John Berger, VS Naipaul, Michael Ondaatje and Bruno Shulz in long hand to grasp the idea of writing in English. I got the advantage of 38 alphabet of Urdu and 26 of English. I love reading Intezar Hussain in Urdu, but my life would be incomplete without "Ulysses." I wrote my first novel, "Season of the Rainbirds", at 22 and sent it unsolicited to Andre Deutsch, publishers of VS Naipaul. They accepted it within 10 days. They thought Nadeem must be a woman. It won two awards. There is a sudden spurt of interest in South Asian literature, particularly from Pakistan. I have zero idea about publishing. I don't know how it works. Pakistani authors are doing well and get good publishers. What are the larger forces behind this, who is pushing it, I don't have a clue. I just write. Your novels dealt with middle-aged characters, but your latest novel, "Blind Man's Garden", addresses the crisis of the youth. When you are young, your suffering is undermined by the elders. The young are given a certain set of ideas to live by, and it is also suggested to them that to be a little corrupt is okay. When I was young, I did not wish to condescend to those ideas. Now I am older and wiser. These characters are 19 and 20 and are meeting the horribly corrupt world of betrayals. But in the final analysis, they do not veer away from the rules that are supposed to govern their lives. They are not individualistic individuals, but are more a part of a larger social structure. Your first publishers had taken you to be a woman. Is it reflective of the way you treat women characters? All my works are concerned about their vulnerabilities. Women characters in my work are beaten up, subjected to exorcisms, murdered by their families in the name of a loving God. They are seen as weak and endangered. But they are not. They are resolute and strong in a quiet way. They are patient and eventually come out of their vulnerability. That's why they are more respected. Why is the fictional town Heer? I have planned 11 more novels that will take place in this fictional land. The legend of Heer is entrenched in our history. When Udham Singh was to be hanged by the British for his 'rebellion', he had asked for Varis Shah's "Heer" to take oath on. Heer was a heroine, she defied convention. She hailed from Jhang. Her clan still lives in Pakistan. When the film, "Heer", was released, they didn't allow it to be screened in Jhang. For them she is still a disgraceful woman, but for others, she is the ideal of love they aspire for. Gradually, realism has entered the myths of such idealism, like the tales of Mirza Saheban. Mirza knew Saheban was invincible. She hides his arrows and Saheban gets killed by her brothers. My characters inhabit this land of idealism mixed with realism and love no more remains the centre of discourse. Do you plan your books around subjects or characters? Subjects are important to me — 'honour' killing, female infanticide, loss of Pakistan's huge population in its involvement with Afghanistan, Pakistan's blasphemy laws, etc. My first point of reference is me. Then I look for characters that will help me construct these realities with their inherent conflicts. You deleted 70 pages only to retain one sentence. You took 11 years to write your second novel. What constitutes great writing? I take notes from life. But my writing is an exploration of my being. Great writing is writing on the mirror. I think about the basic concerns and what connects me with six billion people on this planet. It is me who is trying to understand the other through writing, like in a mirror image, but not from an elevated space.  |
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He is careful while expressing views in public. But he is in his element at lunch time. It is through lunch-time discussions that his colleagues and students get to know about his “endless love for his country, his vision to make the country great, his frustration when some policy or propaganda deters the growth of the country, his sadness when something unfortunate happens, and his pride and happiness when India achieves something”. He was crestfallen after the second consecutive failure of the GSLV mission. Prof Narasimha is not interested in politics, but is “more informed about political landscape in India than many of us”, say those close to him. He never binds himself to any kind of ideology, be it communism, capitalism, or Marxism. He feels India is too complex to be committed to a single ideology. He stresses the need for “Indian solutions” to “Indian problems”. He believes “most Indian people are simple-minded. What India needs is people with moral authority. This can solve most of the current problems of the country”. His interviewers are impressed with his forthright manner. Sometimes, he responds: “I am not sure what you are asking but what you should really ask is…” Asked why he returned to India in spite of many offers in the US after doing PhD, he says: “I always wanted to be back in India. I like working in India. It may come as a surprise to many people. I returned to India way back in 1962 and it wasn’t a big decision for me to take. There were some advantages of doing research in India. If you really know what you want to do, India, even today, is not a bad place for research. There are limitations but a large number of bodies support research”. He adds: “There is an initiative to set up an equivalent of the National Science Foundation. It will boost exciting research in India. Institutions are now hiring people who want to return to India and continue with their research. There are a large number of fellowships and scholarships on offer. The atmosphere for doing academic research is now changing rapidly in the country.” Prof Narasimha also stands by his colleagues. He resigned from the space commission against the Union Government’s decision to blacklist former ISRO chief Madhavan Nair and three others for their role in the Antrix-Devas deal. He was part of the Prime Minister’s High Powered Committee to probe the contract. Prof Narasimha wrote to the Prime Minister: “Public humiliation of the former technocrats was unjustified. As part of the space commission, he was among those who formulated India’s space policy and had played an important role in the PSLV and Chandrayaan missions”. |
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In Ludhiana, the industrial hub of Punjab, the SGB Children’s Home at Dham Talwandi Khurd is a fairly familiar name, thanks to the reportage on abandoned infants who find a shelter here. The children’s home is more than an hour’s drive from Ludhiana city through bumpy, potholed roads of Jagraon. It’s with a mix of trepidation and studied cheer that we enter the premises of the home — trepidation because it’s not the best idea to remind these children of their abandonment and studied cheer to compensate for the unpleasant reminder. However, both the put-ons turn out unnecessary as Ramanjot Grewal, principal of the school run by the Swami Ganga Nand Ji Bhuri Wale International Foundation, makes an impromptu request that’s almost a veiled instruction — no questions to the children about their past. Dredging up the past makes them go defensive and impedes their normal growth and development, she says. Mother’s pride In the next couple of minutes as she gets ready to give us an update on the home, some children saunter in. They are inquisitive, and two strangers, one carrying a camera and the other wielding a pen, have whetted their curiosity all the more. Once they learn we are there to click pictures and “interview” them, they can hardly contain their excitement.
“They are my children,” says Ramanjot, with stress on “my”. Lest we should take her statement as a sympathetic proclamation to cheer up the children, she says she’s a “mother” to five children of varying age groups. That’s part of the “mother-centric” arrangement at the home that provides care to orphaned, abandoned and destitute children. The home, among the first childcare institutes in Punjab to be registered under the Juvenile Justice Act, 2000, is one big family. The children live in “family houses” spread over 1.75 acres. Each house has three bedrooms, a drawing-cum-dining room, kitchen, toilet and kitchen garden. There are 12 “mothers” who, along with their 45 children (mostly girls), stay in the houses located in the complex. Boys stay here till they attain puberty, after which an “ashram” run by the foundation becomes their residence. The children attend school in the vicinity of the home. Though the day is planned from 4 am, there’s enough space for the children to explore their interests and hobbies. We see a little girl doodling; giving colourful flourishes to her artistic creations. The sun is an orange ball, eggs are multi-hued and so are a few balloons floating away on her canvas. A slightly older girl has her head deep into a book. She’s a voracious reader, we are told. Open to life The children are encouraged to dream. And they dream big. Some see themselves as future doctors, others aspire to be teachers. Abandonment issues are given a quick and quiet burial so the focus is only on the present. The drift is hard to miss — the label “abandoned children” may be convenient, but it devalues the individual worth of these children. “They should not think they are children of a lesser god. We discourage any display of pity. Even sympathy may be misplaced. These children have the right to dignity. As mothers we try to understand their needs and aspirations,” says Ramanjot. The children, not surprisingly, are mature beyond their years. They know that taking anything for granted in life is wrong. They accept the change without fussing over the past or fretting about the future. Many of them, like the girl who’s rather excited about her UK-based adoptive mother, have a new life waiting for them. The SGB foundation is recognised by the government as a licensed adoption and placement agency. Having a say Often the children, some as young as three, make informed choices about their adoptive families. Recently, a girl with a toothy smile told the authorities she wanted a complete family — with both mother and father staying together — thereby ruling out adoption by a single woman. The desire of the children to connect, to be part of a world beyond their own self is unmistakable. As we leave the children’s home, the evening chill is settling over the nearby fields. However, the sheer staying power of the children has added a warm glow to the sundown. We realise the “good” is not easy to report, as unlike the “bad” that announces itself with a flourish, the good is usually too quiet to be noticed. But once you spot it, it unfolds as effortlessly as the resilience of these children who are willing their way to happiness. |
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Arun Jaitley, bjp leader of oppn in rajya sabha David Cameron, british prime minister Dr Mohan Agashe, theatre personality Gen VK Singh (retd), former army chief J Jayalalithaa, tamil nadu chief minister |
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Retired judges must keep in mind that the rental for occupying a Lutyen's bungalow post-retirement has to be political neutrality, not political participation.
I certainly don't believe in 'returnism'. I don't think that's sensible. The British Museum makes sure the things we have and look after so well are shared with people around the world. 
Most of the industry has been taken over by people with money and all they want to do is make more money. Everyone is concentrating on earning more, but professionalism must not suffer. 
The then Army Chief (late Gen AS Vaidya) had vehemently said no to initiating action against people belonging to the nation, but he had to carry out the orders of his political bosses.
Since the Sri Lankan government is acting against the interests of Tamils living there, the sports event will not be conducted in any part of the state.