Earlier this year, Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq won the International Booker Prize, an inspiring feat as it was the first time a short story collection, one translated from Kannada at that, had done so. It was also a win for Sheffield, as the book was published by local independent And Other Stories. Sharing the same publisher, it was only fitting that Mushtaq conversed with writer Rachel Genn; together they discussed issues plaguing women and girls within patriarchal communities in Southern India.
The afternoon began with Mushtaq detailing how her stories are born. “I am with the people all the time. My house is open to them; they can knock on my door even at midnight.” She admitted that this is the reason why she gets into weird situations, but sometimes they turn into beautiful stories. Genn added that whilst reading the book, she noted the “interdependence of the people of India”, and asked Mushtaq whether this was portrayed consciously. Mushtaq said she thinks that there are two types of writers. The first writes only about the parts of the world they find happiness in. The second can be described through a movement she ascribes to, the Bandaya Literary movement. Originating in ’70s Karnataka, this writers’ movement is defined by its rebelliousness, with participants being activists as well as writers. She mentioned this type of writing requires commitment, especially towards “the poor, downtrodden and victims”, indicating dependability to the silenced.
This conversation concerning oppression continued through comparisons between domesticity and powerlessness. Mushtaq argued that patriarchy is bred in the home and is even perpetuated by women. She gave the example of what she described as the typical Indian mother: she delegates all household tasks to her daughter without extending this responsibility to the son. The daughter is essentially trained to become “a good housewife”. It is for this reason that Mushtaq started questioning her domestic, social and religious spheres. However, this did not come without consequence. When talking about the right of Muslim women to pray in mosques, religious authorities called for her to be expelled from the community, in a similar fashion to what happens to a woman in the story ‘Fire Rain’, highlighting Mushtaq’s fiction carrying the weight of lived experience.
Genn asked Mushtaq whether personal attacks on her had become less or more in the aftermath of receiving the prestigious Booker prize. Mushtaq deadpanned “more” before letting out a hearty laugh. She later added that it is useless to give in to despair, as the only thing that gives her relief is writing. Once she has written, she sees it as fulfilling her responsibility towards helping others. She summarised the experience using a sentence from one of her other works: “If I write, my hands will burn; if I don’t write, my heart will burn.”
Although it was a shame that Banu Mushtaq was unable to appear in person, requiring a live video call that at times resulted in missed conversational cues, it was heartening that this event amplified such an important voice. The afternoon wrapped up with a Kannada speaker from the audience telling Mushtaq he was very proud of her, before both writer and reader converted to Kannada for a quick verbal exchange, depicting a heart-warming moment that emphasised the impact of honouring underrepresented communities.
Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆
