India On My Book Shelf

My bookshelf has looked the same for as long as I can remember. It goes from the floor up to the ceiling and is daffodil yellow in colour. It has been in my room since I started reading at the age of four. While books have been discarded and replaced over the years, the bookshelf has never been empty.

The Magic Faraway Tree was a gift for my sixth birthday. One of our two copies of the Lord of the Rings made its way to my bookshelf soon after. Over the next year, my dad began reading a few pages out loud to me every night before I went to bed. Every so often, we could be heard pompously reciting, “In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie,” in gleeful unison. We eventually memorised the entire poem. I even wrote the clichéd “all that is gold does not glitter” poem on handmade ‘golden’ paper in my ‘Very Best Handwriting’ and stuck it up on the fridge. A few months later, I dove into the world of Harry Potter when I was taken to a tedious adults-only party, so engrossed that for the first time the arbitrary bursts of shrill laughter that often accompany these events faded into the background.

My early years of reading were quite diverse, as far as world literature goes, but disconnected from the literature of the country I had spent all my life in. India is diverse beyond the unifying stereotypes of elephants, arranged marriages and yoga that seem to define this country globally. I got glimpses of this diversity during my travels – different languages, traditions and food – but this was still superficial. I felt that it was important for me to engage more deeply with my own country – to understand what we really mean when we say India is diverse. Reading books has always been my way of understanding things, so, naturally, I turned to books to better understand Indian diversity.

I decided to embark on what seemed to be the arduous task of reading one book from every Indian state because I wanted to expose myself to more diverse literature, different kinds of people, and new stories – a project I called ‘IndiaOnMyBookshelf.’ This slow, meandering, deadline-free journey has been ongoing from when I was nearly 16, and is now at a bit more than the halfway mark.

My apprehension did not stem from reading the books; that bit was easy. I’d fly through books faster than people watched their movie adaptations. However, I have the worst “starting trouble”- writing essays, starting projects, drawing a straight line…everything but starting a new book, really! Indecisiveness and absolutely no experience with Indian literature left me with a million questions. Where would I get the books? How would I pick which ones to read? Would I be able to get hold of the translations? What if I didn’t like the books? Would I be able to bring myself to write negative reviews? Before buying any new books, some spring cleaning had to happen. No, not the light and airy type of spring cleaning where you gaily toss away unwanted things but a deeper one that necessitated that many precious books from my childhood – all of which still sparked joy – had to be packed away in an uninspired cardboard box, only to gather dust. All to make space for a literal representation of “IndiaOnMyBookShelf”.

A significant part of my journey was the search for the perfect book from each state. The books I chose to read had to be unique, definitely not the first name that popped up when searching for books from a particular state. The first book, I decided, had to have the most beautiful cover. All readers shamefully and secretly judge books by their covers, hypocrites that we are. Ghachar Ghochar by Vivek Shanbhag stood out because of the ants – the ants that seemed to be swarming from the cover and crawling up my arm. Next, I wanted to know more about Kashmir’s volatile history, the ideal backdrop for evocative novels chronicling human suffering. As a lover of emotionally devastating books, I ended up buying both Our Moon has Blood Clots by Rahul Pandita and The Collaborator by Mirza Waheed (which had the unexpected bonus of another striking cover). What I had read in passing about the conflicts in Kashmir in newspapers became more real, and the story came painfully alive. Learning about the ongoing conflict between India and Pakistan through the eyes of someone directly affected only strengthened the notion that “…for Kashmir, there is always an Indian and a Pakistani version of everything.” This book helped me understand the conflict from multiple perspectives, and how everybody suffers when there are sharp divisions and rigid boundaries.

Fearing the inevitable literary analysis that would follow, I steered clear of poetry. “No autobiographies,” I stipulated when asking strangers on the internet for book recommendations. My choices may have been arbitrary, but they were my choices in the end, and reading what I found interesting is what kept the project going. Perhaps the most impactful decision I made was to primarily read translations of books written in the Indian vernacular, hoping that this would allow me to connect with more authentic narratives about the place and its people. Now I’m no expert on the art of translation, but Fence (‘Vaad’) by Ila Arab Mehta and Six Acres and a Third (‘Chha Mana Atha Guntha’)  by Fakir Mohan Senapati stood out. In Fence, Fateema jumps the ‘fence’ of illiteracy, gender and religion and breaks the ‘fences’ that exist between different communities, without losing integral parts of herself.  Rita Kothari’s seamless translation from Gujarati into English was a large part of the reading experience, and why I was easily able to immerse myself in Fateema’s journey. Six Acres and a Third by Fakir Mohan Senapati, set in 19^th century colonial India defied stereotypes in terms of plot and translation. The book was translated from Odiya by an army of translators. The subtle exploration and critique of power structures in the village taught me about the ‘zamindari’ system, social prejudices, and the struggles in rural India.

Most of the books I read were unique in different ways, but I’d never read a political satire on the Indian government. Inspector Matadeen on the Moon, by Harishankar Parsai, features not-so subtle digs and even some blatant criticism of popular political parties of that time. What struck me was that this collection of short stories from Madhya Pradesh was published without any censorship. Did this mean that there was greater freedom of speech when these short stories were published individually from 1954 to the early 1970s? This book was among my favourites: a quirky title, bold ideas and stories that made you laugh and cry – what a combination!

About halfway through my reading journey, I have already been exposed to so many diverse ideas, experiences, and time periods. Some of the social issues I explored were things I knew about and even felt strongly about, others uncovered new facets and threw up more questions, while still others made me feel like I’d been living in a bubble all my life. The Liberation of Sita by Volga reinterpreted the Ramayana through a feminist lens, and this resonated strongly with my beliefs. The message that women can have a strong identity even in a deeply patriarchal society, held the strongest appeal for me as a reader. I particularly liked the translators’ view of women as “questers seeking their own salvation”. This search for ‘liberation’ continues and each of us must confront our own notions of gender and identity.

My great-grandmother had been through the partition in 1947. While we laughed, played cards and were best friends, she never spoke about her lost home. It was reading Pinjar by Amrita Pritam (translated by Khushwant Singh) that helped me understand the personal in the historical. Although this book is about the division of two countries, it made me realise that people from the two religions lived closely connected lives before this border was drawn. Mothers of Manipur by Teresa Rahman opened my eyes to the collective movements and the political and social realities in Manipur. It also made me wonder about who can make a political statement. Who has the power to change things and challenge injustice in society? I think the answer is anyone.

Books about idyllic worlds were not on my list; The Night Train to Deoli by Ruskin Bond was a rare exception. The Outcaste by Sharankumar Limbale was of those books that ‘burst the bubble’ for me. Its descriptions of starvation, suffering and caste discrimination were so graphic and disturbing that I had to stop and restart many times. The books that we read do not always have to bring us joy. They can be about difficult subjects and disturbing realities, but sometimes – as hard as they are – they need to be read. The last short story in Inspector Matadeen on the Moon was not a satire, but a story about the author’s childhood. In ‘The Days of Gardish’, he explains how he uses writing as a way to know himself and “save (himself) from becoming faceless”. Perhaps for me, this reading journey too has become a way of ‘knowing myself’. Putting India on my Bookshelf has changed what I know and how I think. It has expanded my idea of what it means to be Indian. I now know about things that trouble me deeply – about intolerance and societal divisions based on caste and religion – that should make me question my beliefs and actions.

There is still so much more to explore and learn. Sharing this journey with as many people as possible, I felt, was necessary because of the general ignorance about Indian diversity and the social issues affecting sectors of society we are disconnected from. Posting pictures and book reviews on Instagram is helping me engage with more people closer to my age group. If you connect with my ‘travels’ through India, do take a look at my Instagram page (@indiaonmybookshelf). Maybe you can even start your own journey?

“If you only read the books everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking” ~ Haruki Murakami

1. Mizoram – Zorami: A Redemption Song by Malsawmi Jacob
2. Maharashtra – The Outcaste (Akkarmashi) by Sharankumar Limbale/Translated from Marathi by Santosh Bhoomkar
3. Kerala -The Small Town Sea by Anees Salim
4. Karnataka – Ghachar Ghochar by Vivek Shanbhag/ Translated from Kannada by Srinath Perur
5. Orissa – Six Acres and a Third (Chha Mana Atha Guntha) by Fakir Mohn Senapati/Translated by Rabi Shankar Mishra, Satya P. Mohanty, Jatindra K. Nayak & Paul St-Pierre
6. Madhya Pradesh – Inspector Matadeen on the Moon by Harishankar Parsai/ Translated from Hindi by C.M. Naim
7. Nagaland – When the River Sleeps by Easterine Kire
8. Gujarat – Fence (Vaad) by Ila Arab Mehta/Translated from Gujarati by Rita Kothari
9. Manipur – The Mothers of Manipur by Teresa Rehman
10. Sikkim – The King’s Harvest by Chetan Raj Shrestha
11. Jammu & Kashmir – The Collaborator by Mirza Waheed & The Moon has Blood Clots by Rahul Pandita
12. Uttarakhand – The Night Train at Deoli and other stories by Ruskin Bond
13. Punjab – Pinjar by Amrita Pritam/Translated from Punjabi by Khushwant Singh
14. Andhra Pradesh – The Liberation of Sita by “Volga” (Popuri Lalita Kumari)/Translated from Telegu by T. Vijakumar and C. Vijaysree
15. Goa- Teresa’s man and other stories by Damodar Mauzo, translated from Konkani by Xavier Cota
16. Uttar Pradesh- Raag Darbari by Shrilal Shukla, translated from Hindi by Giligam Wright

On my Bookshelf (and waiting to be read)

1. Tripura – Tales and Tunes of Tripura: An anthology of Kokborok folk songs, myths and tales, proverbs and riddles. Compiled by Chandrakanta Murasingh
2. Rajasthan – New Life by Vijai Dan Detha “Bijjii”/Translated from Rajasthani by Mridul Bhasin, Kailash Kabeer & Vandana R. Singh
3. Arunachal Pradesh – The Legends of Pensam by Mamang Dai
4. Assam – Written in Tears by Arupa Patangia Kalita/ Translated from Assamese by Ranjita Biswas

Still searching for the perfect book (please do send in suggestions)

West Bengal, Meghalaya, Bihar, Haryana, Chhattisgarh, Himachal Pradesh, Jharkhand, Tamil Nadu, Telangana