logo
Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq

Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq

Arab News15 hours ago

HASSAN, India: All writers draw on their experience, whether consciously or not, says Indian author Banu Mushtaq — including the titular tale of attempted self-immolation in her International Booker Prize-winning short story collection.
Mushtaq, who won the coveted literature prize as the first author writing in Kannada — an Indian regional language — said the author's responsibility is to reflect the truth.
'You cannot simply write describing a rose,' said the 77-year-old, who is also a lawyer and activist.
'You cannot say it has got such a fragrance, such petals, such color. You have to write about the thorns also. It is your responsibility, and you have to do it.'
Her book 'Heart Lamp,' a collection of 12 powerful short stories, is also her first book translated into English, with the prize shared with her translator Deepa Bhasthi.
Critics praised the collection for its dry and gentle humor, and its searing commentary on the patriarchy, caste and religion.
Mushtaq has carved an alternative path in life, challenging societal restrictions and perceptions.
As a young girl worried about her future, she said she started writing to improve her 'chances of marriage.'
Born into a Muslim family in 1948, she studied in Kannada, which is spoken mostly in India's southern Karnataka state by around 43 million people, rather than Urdu, the language of Islamic texts in India and which most Muslim girls learnt.
She attended college, and worked as a journalist and also as a high school teacher.
Constricted life
But after marrying for love, Mushtaq found her life constricted.
'I was not allowed to have any intellectual activities. I was not allowed to write,' she said.
'I was in that vacuum. That harmed me.'
She recounted how as a young mother aged around 27 with possible postpartum depression, and ground down by domestic life, had doused petrol on herself and on the 'spur of a moment' readied to set herself on fire.
Her husband rushed to her with their three-month-old daughter.
'He took the baby and put her on my feet, and he drew my attention to her and he hugged me, and he stopped me,' Mushtaq told AFP.
The experience is nearly mirrored in her book — in its case, the protagonist is stopped by her daughter.
'People get confused that it might be my life,' the writer said.
Explaining that while not her exact story, 'consciously or subconsciously, something of the author, it reflects in her or his writing.'
Books line the walls in Mushtaq's home, in the small southern Indian town of Hassan.
Her many awards and certificates — including a replica of the Booker prize she won in London in May — are also on display.
She joked that she was born to write — at least that is what a Hindu astrological birth chart said about her future.
'I don't know how it was there, but I have seen the birth chart,' Mushtaq said with a laugh, speaking in English.
The award has changed her life 'in a positive way,' she added, while noting the fame has been a little overwhelming.
'I am not against the people, I love people,' she said referring to the stream of visitors she gets to her home.
'But with this, a lot of prominence is given to me, and I don't have any time for writing. I feel something odd... Writing gives me a lot of pleasure, a lot of relief.'
'The writer is always pro-people'
Mushtaq's body of work spans six short story collections, an essay collection and poetry.
The stories in 'Heart Lamp' were chosen from the six short story collections, dating back to 1990.
The Booker jury hailed her characters — from spirited grandmothers to bumbling religious clerics — as 'astonishing portraits of survival and resilience.'
The stories portray Muslim women going through terrible experiences, including domestic violence, the death of children and extramarital affairs.
Mushtaq said that while the main characters in her books are all Muslim women, the issues are universal.
'They (women) suffer this type of suppression and this type of exploitation, this type of patriarchy everywhere,' she said. 'A woman is a woman, all over the world.'
While accepting that even the people for whom she writes may not like her work, Mushtaq said she remained dedicated to providing wider truths.
'I have to say what is necessary for the society,' she said.
'The writer is always pro-people... With the people, and for the people.'

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

How a Booker Prize-Winning Work From India Redefined Translation
How a Booker Prize-Winning Work From India Redefined Translation

Asharq Al-Awsat

time11 hours ago

  • Asharq Al-Awsat

How a Booker Prize-Winning Work From India Redefined Translation

By Pragati K.B. Banu Mushtaq's book 'Heart Lamp' last month became the first story collection to win the International Booker Prize. It was also the first work translated from Kannada, a southern Indian language, to receive the award. But 'Heart Lamp' is unusual for another reason. It is not a translation of an existing book. Instead, Ms. Mushtaq's translator, Deepa Bhasthi, selected the stories that make up 'Heart Lamp' from among Ms. Mushtaq's oeuvre of more than 60 stories written over three decades and first published in Kannada-language journals. The collaboration that won the two women the world's most prestigious award for fiction translated into English represents an extraordinary empowerment of Ms. Bhasthi in the author-translator relationship. It also shows the evolution of literary translation in India as a growing number of works in the country's many languages are being translated into English. That has brought Indian voices to new readers and enriched the English language. 'I myself have broken all kinds of stereotypes, and now my book has also broken all stereotypes,' Ms. Mushtaq said in a phone interview. Ms. Mushtaq, 77, is an author, lawyer and activist whose life epitomizes the fight of a woman from a minority community against social injustice and patriarchy. The stories in 'Heart Lamp' are feminist stories, based on the everyday lives of ordinary women, many of them Muslim. Ms. Bhasthi, in a brief separate interview, said that she had chosen the stories in 'Heart Lamp' for their varied themes and because they were the ones she 'enjoyed reading and knew would work well in English.' Ms. Mushtaq said she had given Ms. Bhasthi 'a free hand and never meddled with her translation.' But consultation was sometimes necessary, Ms. Mushtaq said, because she had used colloquial words and phrases that 'people in my community used every day while talking.' Finding translations for such vernacular language can be a challenge, Ms. Bhasthi, who has translated two other works from Kannada, wrote in The Paris Review. Some words, she wrote, 'only ever halfheartedly migrate to English.' But that migration can be an act of creation. In the brief interview, Ms. Bhasthi said that her translation of 'Heart Lamp' was like 'speaking English with an accent.' That quality was especially lauded by the Booker jury. Its chairman, the writer Max Porter, called the book 'something genuinely new for English readers.' He said the work was 'a radical translation' that created 'new textures in a plurality of Englishes' and expanded 'our understanding of translation.' Translation is a complex matrix in India, a country that speaks at least 121 languages. One saying in Hindi loosely translates to 'every two miles, the taste of water changes, and every eight miles, the language changes.' Twenty-two of India's tongues are major literary languages with a considerable volume of writing. Translations can happen between any of these, as well as in and out of English. This year's International Booker was the second for an Indian book. Geetanjali Shree won in 2022 for 'Tomb of Sand,' translated from Hindi by Daisy Rockwell. But for too long, said Manasi Subramaniam, editor in chief of Penguin Random House India, which published 'Heart Lamp,' translation operated largely in one direction, feeding literature from globally dominant languages to other languages. 'It's wonderful to see literature from Indian languages enriching and complicating English in return,' Ms. Subramaniam said. But even as works in India's regional languages find more domestic and international readers, there has been an increasing push toward making India a monoculture — with a single prominent language, Hindi — since Prime Minister Narendra Modi came to power in 2014. Hindi is spoken mostly in northern India, and efforts by Mr. Modi's Hindu nationalist government to impose the language in the south have been a source of friction and violence. As internal migration grows in India, skirmishes between Hindi speakers and non-Hindi speakers happen virtually daily in southern states like Tamil Nadu and Karnataka. Kannada, the language of Ms. Mushtaq's original stories, is spoken by the people of Karnataka, whose capital is Bengaluru, India's technology center. There are about 50 million native speakers of Kannada. In 2013, a Kannada literary giant, U.R. Ananthamurthy, was shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize. In the past decade, books by Vivek Shanbhag, translated into English by Srinath Perur, have popularized Kannada literature among non-Kannada domestic and international readers. One of his books, 'Ghachar Ghochar,' was listed among the top books of 2017 by critics at The New York Times. Unlike Ms. Mushtaq and Ms. Bhasthi, this author-translator team engaged in a 'lot of back-and-forth' to 'bring out what was flowing beneath the original text while ensuring the translation remained as close to the original as possible,' Mr. Shanbhag said. In her acceptance speech for the Booker award, Ms. Bhasthi expressed hope that it would lead to greater interest in Kannada literature. She recited lines from a popular Kannada song immortalized on movie screens by the actor Rajkumar, which compares the Kannada language to 'a river of honey, a rain of milk' and 'sweet ambrosia.' The New York Times

Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq
Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq

Arab News

time15 hours ago

  • Arab News

Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq

HASSAN, India: All writers draw on their experience, whether consciously or not, says Indian author Banu Mushtaq — including the titular tale of attempted self-immolation in her International Booker Prize-winning short story collection. Mushtaq, who won the coveted literature prize as the first author writing in Kannada — an Indian regional language — said the author's responsibility is to reflect the truth. 'You cannot simply write describing a rose,' said the 77-year-old, who is also a lawyer and activist. 'You cannot say it has got such a fragrance, such petals, such color. You have to write about the thorns also. It is your responsibility, and you have to do it.' Her book 'Heart Lamp,' a collection of 12 powerful short stories, is also her first book translated into English, with the prize shared with her translator Deepa Bhasthi. Critics praised the collection for its dry and gentle humor, and its searing commentary on the patriarchy, caste and religion. Mushtaq has carved an alternative path in life, challenging societal restrictions and perceptions. As a young girl worried about her future, she said she started writing to improve her 'chances of marriage.' Born into a Muslim family in 1948, she studied in Kannada, which is spoken mostly in India's southern Karnataka state by around 43 million people, rather than Urdu, the language of Islamic texts in India and which most Muslim girls learnt. She attended college, and worked as a journalist and also as a high school teacher. Constricted life But after marrying for love, Mushtaq found her life constricted. 'I was not allowed to have any intellectual activities. I was not allowed to write,' she said. 'I was in that vacuum. That harmed me.' She recounted how as a young mother aged around 27 with possible postpartum depression, and ground down by domestic life, had doused petrol on herself and on the 'spur of a moment' readied to set herself on fire. Her husband rushed to her with their three-month-old daughter. 'He took the baby and put her on my feet, and he drew my attention to her and he hugged me, and he stopped me,' Mushtaq told AFP. The experience is nearly mirrored in her book — in its case, the protagonist is stopped by her daughter. 'People get confused that it might be my life,' the writer said. Explaining that while not her exact story, 'consciously or subconsciously, something of the author, it reflects in her or his writing.' Books line the walls in Mushtaq's home, in the small southern Indian town of Hassan. Her many awards and certificates — including a replica of the Booker prize she won in London in May — are also on display. She joked that she was born to write — at least that is what a Hindu astrological birth chart said about her future. 'I don't know how it was there, but I have seen the birth chart,' Mushtaq said with a laugh, speaking in English. The award has changed her life 'in a positive way,' she added, while noting the fame has been a little overwhelming. 'I am not against the people, I love people,' she said referring to the stream of visitors she gets to her home. 'But with this, a lot of prominence is given to me, and I don't have any time for writing. I feel something odd... Writing gives me a lot of pleasure, a lot of relief.' 'The writer is always pro-people' Mushtaq's body of work spans six short story collections, an essay collection and poetry. The stories in 'Heart Lamp' were chosen from the six short story collections, dating back to 1990. The Booker jury hailed her characters — from spirited grandmothers to bumbling religious clerics — as 'astonishing portraits of survival and resilience.' The stories portray Muslim women going through terrible experiences, including domestic violence, the death of children and extramarital affairs. Mushtaq said that while the main characters in her books are all Muslim women, the issues are universal. 'They (women) suffer this type of suppression and this type of exploitation, this type of patriarchy everywhere,' she said. 'A woman is a woman, all over the world.' While accepting that even the people for whom she writes may not like her work, Mushtaq said she remained dedicated to providing wider truths. 'I have to say what is necessary for the society,' she said. 'The writer is always pro-people... With the people, and for the people.'

Three Rivers, One Bridge: Mahfouz's Last Dreams Revisited
Three Rivers, One Bridge: Mahfouz's Last Dreams Revisited

Asharq Al-Awsat

time3 days ago

  • Asharq Al-Awsat

Three Rivers, One Bridge: Mahfouz's Last Dreams Revisited

With refreshing honesty, the Libyan British novelist Hisham Matar begins his translation of Naguib Mahfouz's last dreams with a confession. During their only meeting in the 1990s, Matar asked Mahfouz how he viewed writers who write in a language other than their mother tongue. The question reflected the concerns of a young writer born in America, raised partly in Cairo, and later sent to a British boarding school under a false identity to evade persecution by Gaddafi's regime, which had disappeared his dissident father. Naguib Mahfouz on the balcony of his café overlooking Tahrir Square in Cairo, 1988. (AFP) Mahfouz's reply was as concise and sharp as his prose: "You belong to the language you write in." Yet Matar admits that, in later recollections of this exchange, he often caught himself embellishing Mahfouz's words, adding an unspoken elaboration: "Every language is its own river, with its own terrain and ecology, its own banks and tides, its own source and destinations where it empties, and therefore, every writer who writes in that language must swim in its river." In this sense, I Found Myself... The Last Dreams, published by Penguin's Viking last week, attempts to be a bridge between three rivers: the Arabic in which Mahfouz wrote his original text, the English into which Matar translated it, and the visual language of the American photographer Diana Matar; the translator's wife whose images of Cairo are interspersed throughout the book. No easy task. Mahfouz's translations have often sparked debate—whether over inaccuracies, neglected context, or occasional editorial interference. A touch of this affects Matar's attempt without ruining it. For instance, in translating Dream 211, where Mahfouz finds himself facing Saad Zaghloul, leader of the 1919 revolution, alongside "Umm al-Masriyyin" (Mother of the Egyptians)—a title referring to Zaghloul's wife, Safiya—Matar misinterprets the epithet as a symbolic allusion to Egypt itself, rendering it "Mother Egypt." Beyond this, however, the first published translation by Pulitzer-winning Matar flows smoothly, matching the simplicity of his project's origin story: it began one morning over coffee at the kitchen table, where he translated a few dreams for his wife, only to find himself having done dozens—eventually deciding to publish them as his first major translation. The images complement the dreamlike atmosphere without attempting to directly translate any of them. (Courtesy of Diana Matar) Perhaps the concise, economical language of Mahfouz's final dreams made the task easier. Between dreams, Diana Matar's photographs of Cairo—Mahfouz's city and muse—appear shrouded in shadows, dust, and fleeting impressions, sometimes ghostly in detail, complementing the dreamscapes without directly illustrating them. Here, she joins Mahfouz in her love for Cairo, which became her "muse" after accompanying her husband to that summer meeting with the Arab world's sole Nobel laureate in literature. Relying on black-and-white imagery and abstraction where possible, Diana seems to bridge the temporal gap between her Cairo and Mahfouz's. Diana Matar took most of the book's photographs between the late 1990s and early 2000s. (Courtesy of Diana Matar) In his introduction's closing lines, Hisham Matar imagines Mahfouz flipping through the translation and remarking, in his trademark brevity: "Of course." But perhaps closer to the truth is that he would repeat his original verdict: "You belong to the language you write in." Perhaps we must accept that translation—not just of this book, but in general—is a bridge, not a mirror. And that is enough.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store