'I'm Waiting To Write The Book Which Will Slip Out Of My Grasp'

Geetanjali Shree emerged on the horizon of Hindi literature with thepublication of her first collection of short stories Anugoonj in 1991.Since then she has enriched Hindi literature with two novels and anothercollection of stories. Besides writing she has also been actively associatedwith theatre. This association goes back to 1989 when a group of theatreartistes, writers, musicians and painters got together to form Vivadi.

In the year of Vivadi's formation, she did an adaptation of Ghare Baire,teasing out the feminist potential of Rabindranath Tagore's famous text, whichwas staged at the Kamani Auditorium in New Delhi. The following year, she wrotean experimental play, Nayika Bheda, which was staged at the prestigiousPrithvi Theatre in Bombay. In 1991, "concerned about growing Hindufundamentalism and realising that the question of Hindu identity inescapably gotembroiled in aggressive polemics the moment it was linked with the Muslims",she adapted Tagore's Gora, a work that does not ignore the dangers of ‘Hindutva'while probing, at a deep philosophico-existential level and with greatsensitivity, the question of Hindu identity.

One of her most successful scriptsis an adaptation of Hadi Ruswa's 19th century Urdu classic, Umrao Jan Ada,a novel about the life of a courtesan. Overturning the male vision of theoriginal to attempt a radical feminist reading of the text, the adaptation wasfirst staged at the Shriram Centre in December 1993. It ran to packed houses andhas been staged many times in Delhi, Bombay and Calcutta. Besides having beenfilmed for the Indian TV, it has also been the centre of discussion at seminarsand in magazines.

An English translation of her adaptation of Umrao will be performedsometime between next June and September by a group called Rasik Arts atTarragon Theatre in Toronto.

Recently Geetanjali adapted Lao Jiu: The Ninth Born, a Chinese play byKuo Pao Kun into Hindi, and in an Indian ambience. It was staged at the NewNational Theatre, Tokyo, as part of a festival where three different plays ofKuo Pao Kun were performed by groups from Japan, India and Indonesia. While theJapanese audience responded enthusiastically, Kuo Pao Kun himself liked heradaptation as an exercise in transcreation.

Among all this, it has been her debut novel, Mai, currently on theshortlist for the Crossword Book Award in its English translation, that helpedestablish her in the Hindi literary scene. In this interview to outlookindia.comGeetanjali Shree tells us about how she embarked upon writing Mai andwhat writing it meant for her.

Can we begin by learning about you? Your childhood, education and how youbecame a writer…
My childhood was spent in different towns of UP where my father as a civilservant got posted. That’s where I received my early education in the localEnglish-medium schools. My link to Hindi language and literature was informaland personal. My mother spoke almost only Hindi. All round me in the UP townsthere was so much of Hindi. We also read, in my childhood, more Hindi magazinesfor children than English-school-going kids today. Like Chandamama, Parag,Nandan. Where we picked up, in however popular a way, ‘Indian’ lore –tales from the Ramayan, Mahabharat, Arabian Nights, Sheikchilli, Panchtantra,Kathasaritsagar, Bhootnath and Chandrakanta Santati. Perhaps theabsence of the present-day glut of children’s books in English accounts forthat. But it was a blessing in disguise. Then there was a retinue of so-calledservants who provided a vibrant link to Hindi and local dialects, plus theirstore of rural tales, proverbs, superstitions.

Was there anything in your childhood and the environment you grew up inthat pointed you in the direction of writing?
My very close friendship with Munshi Premchand’s granddaughter and closelinks from my childhood on with her entire family, I think, played a verypositive role in sensitising me to ‘culture’. Theirs was a household full ofpractitioners and learners of Indian music and literature.

Tell us about yourmother and your relationship with her?
My mother and I have a very specialrelationship. I have changed my second name to her first name – Shree.

Did your education and years at college and university have a bearing onyour writings?
For my college I moved to Delhi, LSR and then JNU, and did Modern IndianHistory, though I was already feeling the tug towards Hindi literature. In theabsence of formal Hindi education, History was the viable option, but I begandoing tutorials using Hindi literature for the study of history and such like.For my Ph. D. I worked with a historian at the MS University, Baroda, onPremchand as a rich example of the 20th century nationalist intelligentsia. Imade a book of it, the worth of which I’m not over-confident about, but thatwas my first full-fledged foray into the Hindi world, and no doubt allowed me tocomplete the transition from hobnobbing with Hindi to immersing into it.
Clearly these were important formative years and must have influenced mywriting, quite how I’m unable to say, and have so far not felt self-indulgentenough to construct a narrative about it.
Generally, and mostly somewhat inarticulately, the idea that I’m a writerhas been with me since my childhood! In early school I wrote adventure storiesin English, directly reminiscent of Enid Blyton! Thereafter I suspect I gotcaught in a language mesh, and for many years remained unclear what myrelationship to Hindi and English was, and which of the two was my ‘creative’medium. As I say this to you I get the feeling that in my search for my languageI actually made the tortuous journey of finding my feet in both Hindi andEnglish, and developing with both a free and separate relationship. But I don’twant to over-stress this point about comfort – as a matter of fact, sometussle with and in both languages, some anxiety about theirone-on-top-of-the-other attack on my senses does not leave me completelytension-free even today.

Were you a voracious reader? Who were your favourite writers? How did theyinfluence you?
Basically I loved literature. Reading was a major pastime. Veryhaphazard though it was. Lots of the Russian greats, the Victorian women greats,French classics, an odd Knut Hamson here, a Max Havelaar there, later Calvino ,Kafka, Kundera, Latin American literature, Japanese literature, Indian writersof Bengal, Maharashtra, Karnataka, Kerala, and Hindi writers upto my own times,like Krishna Sobti, Nirmal Verma, Shrilal Shukla, Vinod Kumar Shukla, etc. Thatmade for an exposure to a wide range of styles, and again, though I don’t knowabout influences on my writing, they did instil in me a love for variety anddissimilarity in artistic endeavour. I would myself like to write very differentkind of things and have people say it’s like a different author each time! Tosome extent I can claim that the three novels I’ve written could induce such aresponse!

Have you decided to stay away from India (she is currently shuttling between Paris, Endinburgh and London)? Seeking permanent residenceabroad...
I do not live abroad. But I love travelling and have been lucky in gettingchances to visit many different lands. This time I’ve come away just afterwrapping up my latest novel (which came out in February), and I’m levitatingin a gas-balloon manner – everything is very light and unconnected whichsometimes rests me, sometimes seriously disturbs me!

How do you think the West perceives us? Is there any one image of India inthe Western mind?
The image of India in western minds? God, can there be one image! Except inthe minds of fools. Of which there could be plenty here! But impressionisticallyspeaking, what I find very energising is the invasion of the West by India –TV, clothes, décor, cuisine, people on the street, altogether our very lavishpresence! While I’m no expert on interrelation relations I cannot believe thisis not a very creative interactive relationship where new ‘cultures’ arebeing forged. And where India is not so simply a subordinate partner, whatevermay have been the history of inequality between this West and India earlier andwhatever it may still be in post-modern and world-globalisation times.

Have youever learnt creative writing? If not, how did you groom yourself?
No, I did notlearn creative writing! Isn’t that a very American thing to do? I’m afraid I’mnot bursting with admiration for America! Have their courses been responsiblefor any of the worthwhile literature coming out of there? How did I then groom myself? Like an Indian! I learn on the job! And getbetter and better!

How much do you think writers should engage themselves in public issues?
Public issues and writers. My personal predilection is for sensitivity andawareness vis-à-vis public issues. But I would have no quarrel with a writerwho says she/he cannot, will not, make it their business. Most importantly Ibelieve there are different ways of engaging in public issues. Not always directaction. The circuitous route of art, theatre and literature can create anambience receptive to other voices and ideas. Take someone like J.M. Coetzee inour times. Or nearer home a very controversial and self-avowedly apoliticalBhupen Khakhar.

Have you involved yourself in social issues? When and what hasbeen your experience?
I’m not a jump-on-to-the-street-and-spout-fire type, butwould willingly and quietly join demonstrations, as of the Sahmat kind. We’reliving through stupefying times and ugly things are happening which I’m notable to shut out even if I only silently join the protestors and onlyinfrequently.

How much influence has that had on your literary efforts?
Yes, some of these concerns do wend their way into my work. My second novel,Hamara Shahar Us Baras, is a take-off on the aftermath of Ayodhya and deals withriots under people’s skin so to speak. And is not a dismissable novel merelyfor engaging so totally and directly in a socio-political issue!

Are you satisfied with your creative output?
Satisfied with my creative output? Are you serious? Never! I’m stillwaiting to write the book which will slip completely out of my grasp and growits own wings and soar high on its own making even me look agape with wondermentat its beautiful flight. I get inklings of that sometimes, but no more!

Would you say something about the germination of a work of literature?What comes first? A general idea, a specific situation, a plot, a character?
How I conceive of a work is a bit of a continuous mystery. A discovery evenfor myself. I have no set formula and anything – a general idea, an oddsentence heard, a single image – can set it off. My latest novel is a case inpoint. All that got me going was the image of a large north Indian roof underwhich there are clusters of houses. Once I’d started I found that women whomay not easily step out of these homes could very well find pretexts to go tothe terrace and meet up and befriend someone who has reached up there from someother house by some other set of stairs. Once on the terrace the sky is theirlimit and boundaries are transgressed.

What is the place of plot? Does the plot take shape as you proceed or doesit grow from the character, from the idea itself?
Yes, something sets me off and then the work keeps unravelling, plot,characters, even the form choose themselves.

Is writing easy for you? Or do you find it difficult?
Is writing easy or difficult for me? Really I can’t say. I go oncompulsively even if it’s excruciating and painful. Sometimes writing gives mea real sensual high, but sometimes suicidal depression and frustration. It ismoody, and takes me with its highs and lows.
I write longhand. Anywhere that I’m for at least a month I workoffice-hours. Which means locking myself up in a room through the day, andreading, writing (taking notes if I’m not working on anything specific),staring out blankly. There’s something of meditation here, something also ofthe dogged, artless quality of labour!

How did Mai happen?
It was quite long ago, and I never recorded the process, so I’m making up astory now! But it was some desire to acknowledge women of my mother’sgeneration. It grew in me like an obsession, and unsure though I was of what Icould do, it was like it just had to be done. This ground had to be traversed tobe able to move anywhere forward. So even if it was going to be childish,elementary work, I had to do it, and become free for other ventures andadventures. As I wrote on, layers unfolded – them weak we strong? them passivewe agents of change? I wrote draft after draft and stopped as I always do notwhen I was satisfied but when I felt this was my limit, I have to let go, or I’llremain stuck here forever.

What were your first feelings after you completed Mai?
I mean the first thoughts… Can you recall them for us?My first thoughts Idon’t remember, but I think I realised it was not as simple and elementary asI’d feared it might be, because all said and done, my mind is not so simpleand unlayered and unsubtle!

What did you do immediately after the completion of Mai?
I can’t recall what I did immediately afterwards, but perhaps I plungedheadlong with a theatre group. I was on and off work with it as script-writer. To getback into the world which my make-believe creative world of the last few monthshad made unreal!

Is there a difference between telling a story and writing a story?
I think there’s always a difference between telling a story and writing iteven though the aim of both is to ‘tell’ a story. The different audience isa big reason. In one case it’s a changing and visible audience and the telleris also visible, allowing for a live, changing, extemporising performance in the‘telling’. In the second instance the reader is invisible, and so is, soon,the writer, and the ‘telling’ turns into a relatively fixed ‘told’.There’s a changeable performance here as well with changing readers who’llread/hear/see different meanings/cadences/visuals, but there’ll always comethe point of that irreducible difference between the oral and the written.

Hindustani music seems to play an important role both in your life and inyour works. How much of Hindustani music do you listen to?
I love Hindustani music and listen to it most of the time. Mallikarjun Mansurand Amir Khan are my favourites. My collection could make a connoisseur jealous!

What has been your most satisfying endeavour? Has any of your works made you feel that it is not good enough?
I feel mixedabout all works of mine. They seem full of potential and possibilities, and seemgood in parts. But I have yet to feel about any work that it has all come outjust fine. It is as if I’m in the process towards creating the ultimatemasterpiece, but will even my last book be that?!

What are you working on now?
Working on what just now? Nothing! At the moment I’m dying, and wonderingwhy I’m not dead if I can’t write!

Since Mai has been shortlisted for the Crossword Book Award tell us how important is winning prizes andgaining recognition?
Prizes and recognition are great as fun and joy and encouragement, but ifthey get ‘political’ I’ll be wary of them.
Crossword. To get it would be an honour and a delight, and I’ll love therecognition and the greater readership it could bring. But my writer will notwilt if I don’t get it!

What is the current state of Hindi literature? Do you think it is ratherelitist?
Hindi literature is a mixed bag of things. We’re talking of a large beltacross north India and of greatly uneven literacy. Within that, however, it’svery vibrant literature, full of variety and lapped up by elitist, specialist,non-elitist, even popular, circles.

What do you think can be done to make it reach a wider audience?
To reach a wider audience education is a key necessity. But also bettermarket network, better publicity, more quality translations, and as many kindsof literary forum as possible to give Hindi a platform.
Certainly my work in English would have reached a wider audience. In lessthan a year after Mai came out in English, I’ve been reviewed, interviewed,photographed more than in ten years since it came out in Hindi! But we write inthe language we can in, and love, and get to love. But who would mind iftranslation gives them access to bigger readership and more money?!

What do you think of Nita Kumar’s translation of your book? How did ithappen?
Nita’s is a fine translation, and that’s what I’m repeatedly told. Sheread it by chance – a colleague of hers lent it to her – and she wrote to measking if it had been translated, and could she? Just like that – a shot fromthe heavens!

What has been your contribution to it apart from the fact that you have writtenthe original?

My contribution? Pretty nil. We did sit together once when she hada major draft done, and went over it line by line, but mainly to tune oursensibilities and to know how the other had read/written it. Once we struck awave length, I just handed it to her with trust.
Of course, if I may add a little naughtily, no writer feels the translationis better than the original! The materiality of Hindi is not the materiality ofany other language, and I’m too attached to that!
But there’s also magic in good translation. It’s the magic of creation orrather of recreation, magic of becoming the other, and again yet another.

Are you as strong a feminist in real life as your book makes it appear?
I don’t know how, why, which kind of feminist you read in the book. I seemyself as someone sensitive to women and their experiences, but not as a rigidideological feminist.

Did you know from very early in your life that you were going to writeMai?
No, I did not know I’d write Mai.

You talk about getting stuck in the subterranean mixture of security,safety and suffocation. Does it still bother you or have you tackled that andhow, if you have?
You ask as if the protagonist in Mai and I are one and the same!! Which isalso linked to your view about Mai being autobiographical. Let me say a fewthings in response – To the extent that I, too, felt like the protagonist ‘stuckin the subterranean mixture of security, safety and suffocation’ then I thinkI would have got out of it before I could write Mai! All I can say is, at homeand away from it, supported or opposed, I’ve always nurtured in me a fiercelyindependent spirit and that has still to die!