July 9, 2011
Simple and minimalist
Special ArrangementJahnavi Barua: Stories from the Brahmaputra.
‘I know the basic arc of the story before I begin to write...' says Jahnavi Barua as she speaks about her writing, her novel Rebirth and what the Brahmaputra means to her.
Jahnavi Barua is among the most lucid voices to have emerged in the Indian literary scene in recent times. She writes in English but the ethos around which her stories unfold brings the Brahmaputra to the reader in all its raging glory and untamed passion. The central characters in her story are from Assam and refuse to let go of visuals and fragrances of the land they hail from despite the compulsions of the new ‘home' they have migrated to.
Her collection of short stories Next Door and the recently launched novel Rebirth have been critically acclaimed and bear ample testimony to her range and depth as a story teller. Clearly, this is one writer from the north-east who will delight the discerning reader with every new work of hers.
In this interview, she talks about her approach to writing, the literary influences she grew up with, her writing plans for the future and of course Assam and the Brahmaputra.
You mentioned that your novel Rebirth is very different from your collection of short stories Next Door. How are the two different?
Rebirth is different from my collection, Next Door, in the sense that it is a very intimate piece of work, far more so than any of my short stories. While I always endeavour to get under the skin of all my characters, this time I had to travel unexpectedly deep into the heart of Kaberi to be able to draw her out completely.
Another point of difference is that in my short stories there is always a broad range of characters — within each story and across the many stories, there are several voices: masculine and feminine, young and old. This time around, I was working with a limited range and mainly, I was working with that one strong voice of Kaberi.
Rebirth played out for me very much like a psychological thriller. For most of the book, I worried about what's going to happen to the unborn baby. A couple of short stories in Next Door — namely “Honeybees” and “The Patriot” — have a similar flavour. It made me curious as to who your literary influences are?
My literary influences are many and, among them, writers of short fiction have a special place. A strong influence is Alice Munro, whose short fiction I find exceptional in that in every short story is hidden a self-contained universe. Other writers I admire are Raymond Carver, Richard Ford, Chekov; many of the younger writers such as Julie Orringer, Adam Haslett, Chimamanda Adichie, and also many Indian writers such as Shashi Deshpande, Vikram Chandra, Ismat Chugtai, Indira Raisom Goswami, Bhabendranath Saikia, Hare Krishna Deka, Dhruba Hazarika, Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay, C.S. Lakshmi. The list is endless.
You get the voice of Kaberi in Rebirth pitch perfect, walking the tight rope of desperation and a quiet rebellion. I find this quality inherent in most of your stories. Does it have anything to do with where you come from?
Traditionally, Assamese society has placed great emphasis on — among other things — moderation, restraint and resilience in all spheres of life. In keeping with this, expressing any emotion too loudly is not something that is encouraged. While things are changing rapidly, politics and globalisation have played their part in impacting traditional behaviour; I do believe that coming from that region has partly resulted in my writing being the way it is.
The other reason could be my own philosophy of keeping things simple and minimal, as far as possible.
I am told you are very organised as a writer. You work on a particular chapter until you get it right and don't go back to it once it is done. How do you manage this when you are writing a novel? Many a times the character decided to write itself...
I try to be organised, although I am not sure I always succeed! As far as getting every chapter right before moving on the next, it is easy to do that with short fiction, but difficult with a novel. What I tend to do is to work on one section of the novel at a time.
Yes, characters do have a way of writing themselves and the story but what helps, I find, is that I know the basic arc of the story before I begin to write and hence am able to keep the character as close to that arc as possible.
I find the Brahmaputra is present in most of your stories. Why is the river so important for you?
The Brahmaputra is a large presence not only in my life, but I think, in the lives of almost all who have lived beside it. The river is captivating in a way that is often hard to describe.
I have had the good fortune of spending a lot of time on it; as a child, we lived in a house that was perched on it and even after we left that house, I was able to go back to the river, again and again, as one of my aunts lived right on it. The river has been a good friend to me; sometimes a calming influence and, at other times, a source of creative inspiration.
Assamese literature and music are replete with references to the Brahmaputra, showing how profoundly it has impacted people.
I believe you gave up your vocation as a doctor to pursue writing? Why did you do that?
I took the decision not to pursue medicine in order to be able to give more time to family life; writing had not been a consideration at that point. Writing came about much later and I am certainly very glad it did!
What next?
Another novel is the next step, I suppose. But I continue to write short stories every now and then, whenever they appear in my head.
Keywords: Jahnavi Barua
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