Alleged

Are you a Hindu?
Yes.

Are you religious?
A little.

That was a trick question. You can't be both.
Eh?

There's now a judgment of the Nagpur Bench of the Income-tax Appellate Tribunal which says that a trust set up for the worship of Ganesha, Hanuman and Shiva is not "religious" in nature.
What?! 

Yeah. Because Hinduism is not a religion.
Then what is it? 

A way of life, sucker.
Just like Test Cricket is?

Yes. Did you know that "Lord shiva, Hanumanji, Goddess Durga does not represent (sic) any particular religion, they are merely regarded to be the super power of the  universe (sic)"?
That's just rubbish. Superman's ability to fly is a superpower. 

Sire, I'm talking of a "super power", not a "superpower".
Ah. Just like a "superstructure" is different from a "super structure"?

Subtle distinction, no? Get a load of this. A sentence in the judgment starts with the words, "The alleged Hindu religion..."
Well done. That's like the Times of India talking about crimes. 

Hinduism is not even a 'community', they say. "The word ‘community’ means a society of people living in the same place, under the same laws and regulations and who have common rights and privileges.  This may apply to Christianity or moslem (sic) but not to Hinduism."
Does this mean what happened twenty years ago on December 6 wasn't religious or communal? 

It wasn't. It was about people who were taking revenge for a religion pwning their "super power" hundreds of years ago.
I can understand that, yes. Five hundred years from now, I wouldn't be surprised if Spider-man fans bring down a church which stood on the spot in New York where he was allegedly born. 

There's that word again, "allegedly".
Important word, innit?

On Campus Novels, Sanskritisation and Causality: A Conversation with Satyajit Sarna

The last time I met Satyajit Sarna (unimaginatively nicknamed 'Surd'), in a few hours, and for a few hours, I forgot who, where or what I was. When I met him before that, after being in the legendary Queens Bar in T.Nagar and the highly underrated Ranjith rooftop in Nungambakkam, for some reason, I woke up in a room at the Taj Coromandel. The next day, at the Madras High Court, various people wanted their photo taken with what they thought was an alien apparition -- a six-plus-feet tall Sardar in an advocate's gown!

Here, I talk to him about his first novel, published this June by Harper Collins, The Angel's Share.
***

The author poses with mint vodka that tasted like mouthwash.

When I heard that you were writing a novel, I wasn't surprised. Somehow you seemed like the sort of guy who would want to tell a story. But I must admit that given the range of literature you read, and the sort of things you tend to talk about (in our bizarre interactions over the years), I was a little surprised when I heard you were writing a campus novel. This genre, in the context of Indian writing in English in the last decade, brings its own limitations, expectations and biases, doesn't it? What pushed you to write about Law School?

Well, to the extent I was thinking about it, I was following advice. They say you should sort-of bleed the autobiographical urge out of yourself, write it, get your own voice out of your head and onto paper and then either publish it, or print it out on a nice big sheaf of paper and lock it up in a drawer. The danger, if you don’t do that, is that the stories you need to tell start showing up in the stories you want to tell. So you get science fiction with a little campus novel in it, and your detectives have coming-of-age issues. The way I see it, if as a writer you feel a need to write a coming-of-age book, you might as well write it so your space cadets and detectives don’t end up with student angst.

So when I sat down and started typing, I decided to go with the flow and tell the stories that I did know, and they came together and grew with time to become The Angel’s Share.

What's wrong with detectives who have coming-of-age issues or a sci-fi set on a campus of some sort? Wouldn't that sort of thing set the novel apart amongst that genre? Are literary genres like ragas that have strict goalposts within which an artist’s creativity is channelled?

Ha ha, of course! That would be wonderful, and there is great work along those lines which exists. Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card is one of my favorite books that way – a sort of schoolboy story told against a background of interstellar war. What I meant was an unintentional urge to write exactly what you saw into a narrative where it would sit uneasily…

The IITs had Five Point Someone, and the IIMs got the "MBA" series (Mediocre, but Arrogant; Married, but Available and so on). (Have you read these novels?) Law schools don't have a definitive campus novel yet, although there have been attempts to write one. You think The Angel's Share fills that market void?

I read Five Point Someone in third year, and I honestly enjoyed it. It was a light read which appealed to me because I was in college and it was a college book – there was an immediate empathy. It also perversely appealed to me because I liked reading Big Books, and it was the exact opposite of a Big Book and so it felt like cheating. I read it in the back row of class, returned it to the owner and thought that it may be the last I heard of it. Boy, was I wrong!

Campus novels have fallen a long way in the perception of the reading public, which may be a fair assessment of the quality of work we’re seeing, given how many of them are mass-market clones of Five Point Someone.

Coming-of-age, the Bildungsroman, is a very evocative genre– a lot of great writing has come out of it. And as my friend Aditya Sudarshan says, This Side of Paradise is a campus novel. But the tag does make me uncomfortable still.

The Angel’s Share has a couple of settings; I’m not sure I’d have written it or tried to have it published if I had written only a campus novel. In my head it’s a story about youth and growing up. But I’d like to think that if you wanted to tell a story about law schools or law firms in India, you’d have to think about The Angel’s Share and ask yourself if someone got there first.

It's funny you should mention This Side of Paradise, because when I read it, I actually thought, "Hey, Satyajit could write a novel like this!" And in continuing with the Fitzgerald theme, there was also Zorawar who is, in some ways, Nick Carraway to Sasha's Gatsby.

I think that what you may be doing is upgrading me vastly by association. I thank you kindly, but fear that you are far too generous. The Great Gatsby remains my favourite book of all time, and I reread it every year or so. Every time, I see more than I saw the last time, which is incredible given that it’s an even shorter book than The Angel’s Share.

 I see where you’re going when you contrast Nick-Gatsby with Zorawar-Sasha, but there is a little difference in the dynamic, even while Zoju plays the straight man to the inspirational personality of Sasha. If Zoju wasn’t so callow and insecure, Sasha wouldn’t shine so bright, and if Nick wasn’t a non-judgmental Midwesterner, than the East Coast opulence of Gatsby wouldn’t seem so mythical, and Nick’s judgment in the end wouldn’t be so damning.

But, in Gatsby, Jay Gatsby is squarely at the centre of the book. The big question is how big Nick is  - does he tell the truth fairly? How much does he grow and change independently of Gatsby? Zorawar is a lot more active than Nick and his growth and story is more central by comparison.

If I may refer to another one of my favourite books, I could venture that maybe, in Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, the relationship between Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty is a better example. Dean appears and disappears and changes Sal’s life, but the story is about Sal. Dean is more the idea of Dean, and less the person of Dean. And so Sasha.

However if you had to point to a hero in these three books, I feel that you could without hesitation point to Jay Gatsby, Dean Moriarty and Sasha Kapur.

Your novel is intensely personal. It is about people you've known intimately, and spaces you've inhabited for a considerable period of time. Did the familiarity make writing it easier or tougher?

Some of the characters are based on traits I saw in real people, and on events that I saw or heard about. But when you sit down to write fiction, it’s impossible to tell it like it happened. The rules of fiction are different from the rules of life. Events happen in a very diluted non-causal fashion. People are a lot more alike than they are different. You blur lines, mix and match, exaggerate – do the verbal photoshopping you have to make an interesting picture.  What familiarity does help with is description. When I need to describe a setting, I can just tell it like I saw it.

There are things you take for granted when writing about National Law School. For instance, you mention the "Five Buck Shop" and "Amma" without really explaining who or what they are.  Would that put off outsiders? Or are these things not really central to the plot anyway?

Hopefully, neither ‘Five Buck Shop’ nor ‘Amma’ would put off readers. I tested some of these terms on ‘outsiders’ before publishing it, and it appears that anybody who went to college had a Five Buck Shop AND an Amma. There’s an institutional logic to these elements, and its bound to be common to most colleges. If, however, you have ever been to Nagarbhavi and stared into the deep and knowing gaze of Amma, then the reading experience may be so much more the deeper for you.

I’m now trying valiantly to recall whether I still owe any money at Five Buck Shop or to Amma. I think I cleared my tabs at Convocation, but the details are hazy…

There was a moment in the novel when I thought I must launch into a diatribe about Sanskritisation and Westernisation. When you mentioned that for our generation of Indians, cricket was no longer the number one sport, I wanted to jump into the pages of the novel and talk about how Westernising city kids have shifted to football, but for the Sanskritising small-towners (like myself), cricket (which used to be the upper class, elite, city-game) was still number one. This is not a question. I feel like faffing, and I faffed. You may comment, however.

I see your point. Of course I meant this in the context of urban India, where the rise of football is self evident and is definitely influenced by televised international sport and focused marketing by the English Premier League and companies like Nike and Adidas. You are right in that this rise of football is not even across India and that for the vast majority of children in India, cricket is their one true love.

That said, the way I hear it from my granddad, the sports he used to play as a child, and even past independence, the sports that really held the Indian imagination were football and hockey. If you look at the past of Indian football, the Durand Cup predates all but two tournaments and clubs like Mohun Bagan and Mohammedan Sporting have very old and storied pedigrees. Maybe the history of subcontinental sport would have been different if FIFA had allowed India to play the 1950 World Cup barefoot…

I’m no expert but the rise of Indian cricket in the sixties probably has a lot to do with decolonization and the scars it left on the Indian psyche – a need to ape our colonial masters, perhaps. It’s not an obvious fit for our conditions – the equipment is expensive, a proper pitch and grounds are very hard to maintain – but cricket-like games happen everywhere.

I could go on, but so could you. That’s how faffing works.

That’s one skill Law School really taught us, didn’t it? I wouldn’t be half the man I am without it.

Some would say that’s an improvement.

In a report somewhere, it was written that your novel exposes "hard-hitting truths" about National Law School. It made me smile slimily. Your reaction to that (not to my slimy smile, but to the phrase)?

I smiled slimily. I did not intend to write a comforting and sweet paean to NLS. I love the institution and had a fantastic time of it myself, and telling the truth should take nothing away from it. NLS is an amazing college with great alumni, a unique culture and the remarkable achievement of having changed the face of legal practice in India by example. But every institution requires honest assessment, and nothing is perfect.

While The Angel’s Share isn’t a report on the functioning of NLS, it does shine a light on the life of the college that outsiders probably don’t see. The biggest problem with NLS in the years we were there is probably that nobody wanted to tell the truth about anything – infrastructure, safety and security, quality of teaching, lack of effort from students, parochialism, discipline, drug abuse – and nobody wanted to hear it. If the institution and its stakeholders (including us) had been more honest and forthcoming, and more willing to listen to each other, I think we’d have learnt more, done better and a lot of people wouldn’t have graduated with such a bitter taste in their mouths. The courage to talk about things is something that I wish we had possessed as an academic community in those years.

I hear that these things have gotten a lot better, and that’s great to hear. I hear exam papers don’t have roll numbers on them, and that there is an actual functioning ‘open-door policy’. I hear that extracurricular activities get more support from administration. Fewer people lose years now and thankfully, the suicide rate is dropping.

You talk of lack of effort from students, drug abuse, discipline – and these were issues that our professors often cribbed about… Remember the time when a professor said he wouldn’t send his daughter to NLS because he saw a guy and a girl make out on the tennis court? Isn’t this (and the consequential lack of student-teacher dialogue) a symptom of a problem that is fairly central to the incident that led to Sasha’s death in The Angel’s Share – of a cultural disconnect between Law School students and the people around them?

Law School was a bubble. Maybe it still is. The world within was culturally, politically, linguistically different from the ‘Portugal’ outside. I would hesitate to draw that link so explicitly because the saddest part about Sasha Kapur’s death is that it dealt to him by unknowns as random act of unthinking violence. When you attribute causality, you reduce the world to a simpler thing than it is.

If you had to dedicate this novel to three storytellers (novelists, film directors, playwrights -- storytellers), who would they be? And why?

The first would be Jack Kerouac, the patron saint of youth in search of itself. The second would be Bob Dylan, who signals to me that at no point in your life need you run out of stories to tell or avatars to slip into. I think they should hurry up and give him the Nobel Prize for Literature already; it’s embarrassing that they haven’t. The third would be Nick Hornby, because more than anything else I have read, High Fidelity and Fever Pitch spoke to me and my passions and whispered that fiction is a mask we wear so we can speak the language of empathy.

What about sympathy and genuiness?

:)

Your father is a novelist, and a fairly well-known one at that (I must admit that when I first saw We Weren't Lovers Like That on the shelf of a bookstore, I thought it would be vaguely erotic).

That’s because you have a filthy mind.

Guilty as charged. Please tell him that I loved The Exile?

Will do.

Did having him around help you write this novel? Say, in understanding what it takes to write one -- schedules, deadlines, self-discipline and things like that? Did you pick up these things osmotically? Or how to approach publishers with a manuscript? How to deal with editors? Anything?

I only wish I had the discipline of my father, who wakes up early and works at a steady pace, and makes a certain amount of progress on his projects every day. The writing process is something that differs vastly for different people and you just have to find the key that works for you.

It was helpful to have a published author tell you to keep at it, keep your expectations in check and not to give up when the rejections come in, or worse, with the interminable waiting for the rejections to come in.

More than any tangible assistance, I would say that it’s a tremendous boost psychologically. Writers are booklovers first, and I grew up in a house of books. My paternal grandparents are both famous writers in Punjabi. To have books and writing in the family means that writing is not alien or terrifying. After this many years of reading, of hearing one side of a conversation, you just want to open your mouth and say something yourself. Writing makes the world of books a dialogue and not just a monologue.

***

The Angel's Share can be bought online -- this link will tell you the options you have in India. And Amazon has it here. But keep those brick-and-mortar bookstores alive; look there first?

The Battle of Ganpath Apartments

I have been battling rats for a few days, and various people have advised me variously.
***

 "The good old grandfather rat trap, nothing works like it."
(I live with my grandfather, so I have an actual grandfather rat trap.)

"Mortein Rat Kill."
(Clean and easy. Hmmm.)

"You know that thing.... That sticky sheet with Tom and Jerry cartoons on it?"
(Oh god. No. I don't want to scrape the rat off it afterwards.)

"In a rat trap, you must put a masala vadai."
(Why don't I open a branch of Karpagambal inside the trap for good measure?)

"This Mortein is very tame, da. There's this thing called Shakti Get Out. That can even kill you if you're not careful."
(Shakti Get Out. Oh man. This looks promising. Actually, it looks like a flattened ellurundai. Noxious only.)

"You think it's in a cupboard, you say? Hmmmm. Open the cupboard, find it and hit it repeatedly with a heated iron rod."
(That will make sure it's not cold-blooded anymore.)

"When you use Mortein Rat Kill, make sure you leave one exit open somewhere. Once I came back from some travels and had to scrape off a dead rat from my floor with a spoon."
(Dude, really. Did you have to tell me that?!)

"Rats breed very quickly. A kill in time saves fourteen."
(Oh fuck. I've delayed it for three days now!)


"Saar, I will give you the most important advice. You can put tengai and nei in the rat trap, you can put masala vadai... But the one that will work the best is NV. I had a bhai neighbour in my old house. He told me this. Find some NV neighbour, put the rat trap in the room in which the rat is, leave the NV in it, close all doors and give it ten minutes. That's all. You have your rat."
(NV in this house! Siva, siva. My thatha will catch me in a rat trap next.)

"Dip whatever you have left in the trap in coffee decoction. In our households, we get only Brahmin rats."
(Oh, that's why it was collecting all that string. To make itself a poonal.)

"I have the number of this pest control guy. It'll cost you a couple of grand. But he'll do a clean job."
(For a couple of grand, I'll do a clean job.)

"It's all about strategy, brother. Guerrilla warfare. You are the Mughal emperor. The rat is Shivaji. You have to understand how it strikes, where it strikes, when it strikes. Only then can you beat it. Don't underestimate your foe, like the Mughals did."
(My problem is that I overestimate it, really.)

"Can you claim the damage caused by the rat as a deduction under Chapter IV?"
(Hmmmm. Current repairs? Or Section 37? This is an interesting legal issue.)

"In these hard times, it is crucial that you are brave."
(Hum honge kaamyaab, I say to myself, repeatedly. Hum honge kaamyaab.)

"Your fan stopped working? Dude, this might be a flying mutant rat."
(Or a bat.)

"Once you catch the rat in the trap, don't kill it. Release it in the wild."
(Guindy Snake Park?)

"Killing a caught rat... Hmmmm. That's an art form."
(Yeah. We'll demonstrate it at the Modern Art Gallery.)

"Tie it to a rope, and beat it incessantly."
(The blood will spurt all over, its insides will be outside. That grisly mix of flesh, blood and bone. Tempting.)

"The most painless way to kill a rat once you've caught it is to pour boiling water on it. Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak and its gone!"
(It's not really gone, is it? There's a boiled rat carcass right there for you to dispose.)

"Make sure you don't have to scrape it off the floor with a spoon."
(Don't remind me of that image repeatedly, da. Please.)

"The rat might go, but it's soul will live on. Community memory, brother. They will remember your house. They will seek revenge. They will fight to reclaim their land."
(Thank you for those words of encouragement.)

***
Really, thank you all for being so supportive. The Family was exterminated yesterday. Two adults and four kids in all. The house feels like my own again. Now to par-tay.

Showing us Heroes: Aditya Sudarshan on his Second Novel

Aditya Sudarshan's second novel is out, as I have already mentioned to the (approximately six) readers of this blog. The novel is centred around Prashant Padmanabhan, an engineer graduate (like half this country) making an amateur film on his cricketing idol, Ali Khan (who seemed, to me, like a strange mix of Azhar and Tendulkar). In a style that evokes Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, the novel is told through the eyes of Vaibhav, a friend of Prashant's, also involved in the movie and in the story, but not its central character in the traditional sense. The title itself comes from a Fitzgerald quote, "Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy."

I interviewed him via a few broken emails.

Congratulations on your second novel. Must be satisfying...

Thanks! Yeah it felt great to write it. Also good to get it published, although that was more of an ordeal. This book wasn't such an easy sell, so it took some perseverance to publish. Which is eventually satisfying, although as an author you also feel that's the least you deserve!

Do you find it surprising that a book that involves a cricketing hero and movie-making would be difficult to sell to a publisher in India?

Well it does sound surprising, but I didn't feel that way myself, because I know that those aspects of the story aren't treated in the obvious ways. So on a cold reading of the bare manuscript I don't think a publisher would sense immediate saleability on those counts. Maybe the reason it was tough to sell is that it is not easily categorized, in terms of genre. The story has many elements, and by the standards of conventional crime fiction, it moves slowly.

Last time I interviewed you, you said, "I think, almost more than any other story-telling device, the device of a detective story forces the author to have something to say." Is that why you choose a mystery again? Actually, would you classify this as a mystery?

I'd classify it as a mystery, a tragedy, and a coming-of-tale, the way it's mentioned in the back cover blurb. Because this novel does have distinct layers- the over-arching story is the narrator's self-discovery, so to speak. Then a major part of that process is the murder and the mystery he becomes involved in. And in the backdrop is the story of the forgotten cricketer. But if I had to mention just one genre, I would say 'coming of age', not 'mystery', because the coming of age is the 'overall' story- what everything else flows into or leads up to.

Why I chose a mystery again, well it maybe wasn't that volitional. But after my first book (which followed a fairly conventional crime fiction structure) I wanted to write another piece of crime fiction that altered that structure. Something where the victim was a central character, and where the crime and the reasons for it were not just a puzzle in themselves, but part of a bigger story. So that was one of the ambitions in my head while I was thinking up this novel.

How difficult is a second novel? Are there expectations to live up to? Suggestions you might have got from people that lodge themselves uncomfortably in the back of your mind?

In my case, I had written the draft of this novel before the first one got published. So factoring in other people's opinions or expectations wasn't so much of an issue. But even so, I think writing a second novel is definitely very different from the first. With a first novel, you tend to 'ride a wave'- you don't analyse so much and you just do things more instinctively. But the second time around you feel a lot more in control of your work. Therefore also a greater sense of responsibility. So it is more difficult and maybe less pure fun, but it's also more rewarding, because you can legitimately take credit for more things. (And feel like a professional)

Basically, if you divide fiction writing into 'creative' and 'editorial' dimensions, then starting from the second novel I think the editorial side of things is much more at work. (Not that it can ever, ever dominate, because then you wouldn't be able to write at all.)

What has been your experience with publishers' reactions to the manuscript of a second novel? Any different from their reaction to the first?

Hmm not really. I mean, a rejection is a rejection! I know it sounds like it should be an advantage to show that you've written one already, but I think unless the first one made a big sensation, it could even be a disadvantage. My sense is that publishers like debut authors, who are eager and 'unspoiled,' much more than the veteran journeyman type.

One novel hardly qualifies you as a 'veteran journeyman', Sud!

Hehe, no. But I didn't mean me - was just describing two ends of a scale.

Your novel is being billed as a cricket novel - the cricket-centric cover... I think the novel could have been about cockfighting in rural Tamilnadu, or rivalry amongst rock bands - you just happened to choose cricket. Your thoughts on that? Any reason why you chose cricket specifically?

Here I partly agree with you, partly disagree. The reason I arrived at cricket was because one of the themes of this novel is hero-worship. So I wanted to write about a larger than life public figure whom a young man could idolize. Of course it could have been a musician or someone more niche like that, but I also wanted the figure to be 'national'- someone whom all the diversity of Indian society might have an opinion about. And someone whom I myself could feel close to and interested in. So all of that kind of led to cricket, and a cricketer. But it definitely isn't just a 'cricket' novel, because that's not it's central focus.

Hmmm. That is a fair point, yes. Were you ever tempted to use fictionalised versions of real life cricketers as characters? What led you to creating a parallel cricketing world?

Initially I had made some references to actual cricketers, but I changed that later. I felt it would pull people too far out of the story because a real life cricketer is so larger than life, and provokes strong opinions on his own account. I didn't want that distraction. The character of my cricketer Ali Khan wasn't based on anybody either. Although one of the things I had thought while writing him was: what if a guy had the cricketing ability of a Tendulkar minus the saintly public persona?


Your first book, A Nice Quiet Holiday, was published by Westland, and your second book by Rupa - are the publishing cultures in the two houses very different?

I think they are. Although I'll be able to answer this better in another six months, once I know more. When I published with Westland I think they were keen on experimental fiction, new genres, niche genres etc. Rupa is a huge publisher, and they publish many kinds of books, so it's tough to assess them that way. But they are of course very strong on mainstream books and cultivating a wide (as opposed to niche) readership.

Last time, I asked you how personal your novel was. And whether you could update us on your love life. Can you answer those questions again?

This novel is probably more consistently personal than my first. It's a more emotional novel, the first one was more intellectual (and therefore more distanced from me personally). And my love life is a lot of self-love. Let's check back again after the next bookl!


You are right. Anything even remotely intellectual is necessarily distanced from you.
:-P

I've been asked to ask you this question - any reason why your first protagonist was called Anant and the second Padmanabhan?

Well Anant is my brother's first name. Padmanabhan is my friend's sur-name. So I took the names from them. But the characters aren't drawn from either my brother or Pappan (as you will be able to vouch for!)


You are moving to Bombay soon to work in films. Tell us something about this shift. Were you always planning to work in cinema at some point? Can we expect more novels from you?

Yes, I'm shifting to Bombay! There are many reasons for that, but purely professionally I think I do need to do more script-writing (I already do some for television), and Bombay obviously has more opportunities for that. I wasn't always planning to do this, but I figured about a year ago that to sustain my writing over the long-term I need to diversify into areas other than novels and stories. The way I look at it, an English language fiction writer in India who wants to make ends meet, has three options. He or she can either try to break into the foreign market, or do a lot of journalistic work- or write scripts. I think of those three options script-writing is the one I would find the most enjoyable and interesting.

But I certainly hope you can expect more novels from me (relax, you can :-)). In fact I want to write a novel that is set against the backdrop of the film industry- I think that's a powerful setting. Let's see, but hopefully things will fall into place.

Thank you, Sud. It was lovely interviewing you. Hope we can catch up soon. On Juhu Beach perhaps!

You're welcome Mami, it was my pleasure. Yes, I'll introduce you to my new film star friends!