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Interview Review

How Gajra Kottary Blossoms with ‘Short Tales’

A conversation with Gajra Kottary, focusing on her new short-story collection, Autumn Blossoms, published by Om Books International.

Gajra Kottary is an eminent screenplay writer on Indian television. She has had many awards and accolades for teleplays that ran into a few thousand episodes, including the very popular Astitva Ek Prem Kahani (Existence: A Love Story, 2002-2006). Trained as a journalist, she turned into a screenplay writer, and now, she opts to go back to writing books.

Her collection of fifty stories in Autumn Blossoms bloom through five hundred pages with an epigraphic verse at the start of each story summing up the intent of the narrative. The focus group of the content is mainly upper middle-class women in India—people who have studied in privileged schools and colleges, though there is a story about a tribal woman who “evolves” to be a leader. The language flows capturing the nuances of her characters, replete with their values, biases, and attitudes. The stories, like her tele series, bring to light not only societal issues but also the interactions between different economic and social strata within the country. They give a glimpse of the world she inhabits. 

Forwarded by Anupam Kher, a well-known actor, director and producer, the narratives despite being women-centric are not feminist in intent. There is a story about a girl who while opposing the patriarchy of her married home, runs away to that of her guru only to discover he lives by even more stringent rules and has an extremely gifted wife who practically gave up her life to look after the needs and career of her husband. The turn of events is such that the protagonist returns home, changed in her outlook. The story in a way upends the current norms towards concepts like patriarchy and yet, it dwells on the strength that can be found among common women, women who are housewives and ostensibly live in the shadows of men. The character of the guru’s wife brings to mind Scarlett O Hara’s mother in Margaret Mitchell’s original novel, Gone with the Wind (1936).

The plots of the stories are involved. And each story takes you through a different world. It’s like you have lived the lives of umpteen women within the social constructs of India. You live through murders, weddings, divorces, parties, terrorist kidnappings and even revolutions! In the centre of it all, are the stories of all humanity with their varied moods and flavours, their loves, compassion, happiness, grief, disappointments, and achievements.

In her ‘Afterthought’ — what in common parlance would be afterword — Kottary tells us the name, Autumn Blossoms, is the “generic descriptions of the stories” in the collection. She contends she is “a firm believer in the fact that women, and for that matter men too, bloom and discover strength in the autumn of their lives. As do many protagonists in these stories, where autumn stands as much for the vagaries of age as for what they are experiencing in life which gives them a new perspective.”

There is a story behind the book told in the afterword… how all the stories were curated into this collection. Some of the stories from her earlier collections were redone by the writer to suite her current needs. As there were many stories, she tells us the editor, Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri, “suggested that we categorise them into three sections”. She further elucidates: “The first would be the section about women’s relationships with men. The second section would be women’s relationships with other women. The third would be about women’s relationships with themselves, by far the most complex of them all. Of course, there are bound to be overlaps – these categories have permeable boundaries, so that it is possible for one story in one category to resonate in another. That too provides a sort of unity to the entire collection – apart from the overarching commonality of women being at the centre of each narrative.”

We invite you here to read what the queen of screenplay has to share with us about her journey as a writer and also on her current book, Autumn Blossoms.

Since when have you been writing? Tell us about your writerly journey.

I have been writing ever since I learned to write – quite literally. Ironically as a kid, like many silly things kids do, it was about trying to connect thoughts and make them rhyme in poems. I went to a convent school but more than my English poetry, it was my Hindi writing that got noted. I edited the Hindi section of our school magazine and I always knew I would end up with some sort of career in writing. Then in college, I tried my hand at writing middles and short journalistic pieces for The Times of India, Hindustan Times and some evening papers and women’s magazines. I was emboldened when they got published. So I did the next best thing for those times. I enrolled for a journalism diploma at the Indian Institute of Mass Communications. The course was great, but when I got down to brass tacks, I didn’t enjoy myself at all – reporting and subbing were not my scene at all. I did it for a while, but then took a motherhood break since I had married by then. My break and the quietude it brought helped me to analyse where I was going, helped me find my true calling within writing … which was fiction.

Starting with two short-story collections, I soon moved to writing for film and television and it consumed me completely for more than a decade. Until I realised that I also needed to write purely for myself too. I wrote my first novel in 2011 and have written three more after that, simultaneously with my TV work. The former has no deadlines beyond the self-imposed, while TV is all about deadlines so it’s a great mix. 

What gets your muse going?

Random thoughts triggered by happenings around … whether it’s in the news or through people’s conversations around. Basically the ‘what ifs’ part of any incident or happening is what triggers the chain of a story in my mind. There is a lovely term in Hindi called ‘udhed-boon’. By now my mind is attuned to churning the thoughts around the ‘what ifs’ to design it into a tale. One has learnt to also decide to design the idea around as a story for a TV show or a short story or a novel. For most of the time, the idea itself speaks in a manner that can be easily identified or slotted. For example, when I read about the phenomena of bride buying in Haryana, I knew I could write a whole TV show around it – so Molkki was born. Similarly the concept of age difference in marriages … it’s thematic and therefore lends itself to exploration of its myriad aspects and nuances through a long-format series like Astitva and Na Umr Ki Seema Ho did. Similarly, most of the short stories in Autumn Blossoms are short tales that can’t be stretched very long, or else they would lose their punch. 

Tell us briefly what made you opt towards moving back towards books when you are a well-known screenplay writer?

That’s my favourite question to answer. When you write for the screen you train to be collaborative. To cooperate, convince and compromise. Since the ownership of the final product is going to be shared, democracy is the need of the medium.

Published in 2011

But it is important for a writer to be in touch with their solo voice to know what it sounds like, apart from coping with the cacophony of many voices involved in screenwriting. In fact I don’t really understand why more scriptwriters don’t feel this urge to have their individual voices heard and write for print too. It is a most empowering and self-affirming thing to do, but maybe scriptwriting is so tiring that inertia creeps in.

As far as I am concerned, I desperately needed to hear my own voice after more than a decade of collaborative writing, although I started writing short fiction way before scriptwriting. So, I finally wrote my first novel in 2011. I really loved the process though it was an edgy and confusing one all through. Once I had written Broken Melodies and gauged for myself what it added to my skill set, I made a habit of periodically hearing my own voice, along with participating in the chorus of the songs of scriptwriting.  

How is writing a book different from writing a screenplay?

I am not a ‘go with the flow’ writer and need to have my goal or destination in sight before I embark on writing a new story. In that sense the process is the same for me in both kinds of writing. But after having done that basic planning for structure, while writing a book, spontaneity takes over. While writing a screenplay one has to be so much more conscious of the craft and style, the judicious part of what ideas to keep and what to discard. In a book one looks at editing much later. Although every good story should have the three-act structure working quietly in the head of the writer, I find that a book or writing for television has most of its texture in the mid portion. The first and third acts are the bookends, the former is a diving board and the latter is a climb to the crescendo. If one can get the middle right, one is sorted. Writing a book is like taking a walk in the park or the open … there’s unpredictability, adventure, mystery, open skies, fresh air to breathe and sights to savour on the way. Scriptwriting is much like walking on a treadmill – you get the required exercise and benefit but it’s not like an entire life experience.

By what I gathered from your ‘Afterthought’, these are stories that have been written over a period of time. How old is the first story and how recent the latest story? What made you think of bringing them out as a collection now?

Yes, these are virtually all the stories in the category of short fiction that I have ever written, including audiobooks. My last published collection of short stories came out in 1996, which is therefore nearly thirty years ago. The audiobooks are fairly recent. Many were written more than a decade ago when I was in between full-time writing for TV. And the last two were written a few weeks before the book went to press, so that we could reach the magical number of 50!

About the reason of bringing them out as a collection. Well it’s every writer’s dream to have a lifetime collection out, I wasn’t actively working towards it.

This book has happened solely because of its editor Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri. He is also a columnist and was writing a piece on my writing journey. As part of his research I shared with him my published, slim volumes of short stories. After he had read them – at record speed at that – he asked if I had written any more that were as yet unpublished. One thing led to another and now we have this door stopper of a volume titled Autumn Blossoms. Both Shantanu and I believe in short fiction, which frankly is challenging to sell. But the challenge is what has driven us both to bring an entire compendium out. Frankly, logically there is no real reason why short fiction shouldn’t be selling even more than novels, in these days of shorter attention span.

Why did you feel the need to have epigraphic verses at the beginning of each story? Are these epigraphs your first attempt at writing poetry … you mention in your ‘Afterthought’ they got you in touch with the ‘closet poet’ in yourself?

The idea to have epigraphic verses at the beginning of the stories was again an innovative suggestion that came from Shantanu after he read some lyrics that I had written in Hindi, and a few in English. They had all been commissioned lyrics, for music albums and the odd theme song for my own shows on TV. Shantanu is quite a poet, having published his poetry too. For me, it was like going back to my early days as a writer who had tried out all genres before I settled for quintessential storytelling. Writing these quatrains was some work and a lot of fun too and discovering the closet poet in myself gave me something to look forward to doing as an option for the coming years. A retirement activity when I perhaps won’t get story ideas anymore. It also gave me a kind of perspective of the essence of each story that I might not have made the effort to analyse otherwise.

Is your writing impacted by any writer, art or music?

My father was a classical musician, though I never pursued music. I love to listen to his music, as well as soulful Hindi film music, and for me the lyrics are as important as the melody. I love Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s films and their music and my regret over the last few years is that I have not been reading as much as I should or would have liked to. I used to love Roald Dahl, Manto, Jane Austen, and most of all Tagore. In recent times I was bowled over by Elif Shafaq’s Forty Rules of Love. I suppose when one admires an art form or artiste, influences do seep in, in terms of both style and content, so all these people’s works have impacted my writing. And also, the aspiration to be as impactful as they have been, since they have been influential across art forms.

You are writing a novel too. Tell us a bit about the novel. Would they too have something to do with these short stories?

Published in 2017

I am almost ready with two novels. Both have male protagonists at the centre which is unusual for me. They are both very different stories from each other. One is a slice-of-life story that is light-hearted in its telling – quite a challenge for me actually – and is tentatively titled Sibling Revelry. The other is a thriller, also a social commentary. It’s tentatively titled Bonds and Bondage. Both the stories, like my earlier novel Girls Don’t Cry have their roots in stories from Autumn Blossoms, that tugged away at me to develop them more, which I eventually did. My forthcoming novels are broader versions of the stories titled ‘Hello, Goodbye’ and ‘Sugar and Spice and All Things…’ respectively.

I don’t know whether this happens with other writers, but this crossover writing does happen with me at times, as I write across media and genre. By now I have come to enjoy the process of finding more and more layers to my own story as I develop some of them from one medium to another.

There are yet some more stories in Autumn Blossoms that I didn’t see as possible novels when I wrote them. But in the process of revisiting them for the collection, I feel they merit a longer format … ‘Friends Indeed’ is a case in point.

What is your favourite genre as a writer?

Honestly, there is no favourite genre. They are all flavours of the season, and I don’t mean that in a disparaging way. Currently it is the short-fiction genre, but I know that it will be my new TV show next and when that hopefully settles, my novels will draw me to them. I guess this makes my imagination more agile, though when there is an unplanned overlap of projects, I get very tired and these days, I get anxious too as energy levels are not as high as they were a few years ago.

What can we expect from you in the near future – more books or serials or both?  

God willing, there should be both, but I need to calibrate my involvement in both spheres. I am going to distance myself from the very tiring process of everyday series writing. Though of course, I will still be involved as I am experienced and can bring some wisdom to the table. I dream of writing books at a more leisurely pace; quite literally blossoming in the autumn of my life.

Thank you for the wonderful answers and your writings across the screen and in books

(The online interview has been conducted through emails and the review written by Mitali Chakravarty.)

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A Special Tribute

Celebrating Gandhiism

We know him variously — a man whose face and form appear on currency notes in India and on stamps, as statues and as art, internationally. He was known as a pacifist, one who inspired the likes of Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr, Obama and many more leaders. And yet, he was a tiny, frail man, rather adamant and uncomfortable to live with and with food choices that many might find difficult to digest. This man was called Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Born on October 2nd 1869, in Porbandar, Gujarat, he became an internationally renowned figure for all of us. Like all great leaders, he impacted the world in ways more than one but he had some idiosyncrasies, for example, he had no faith on the film industry though a number of films have been made on and about him. Highlighting that is an essay from Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri. Gandhi affected people and much of the writing in this edition goes to show how he or his ideas impacted them. Ratnottama Sengupta comments and translates parts of the episode from the biography of eminent Bengali writer, Nabendu Ghosh, her father, as well as a short story by him, to focus on Gandhi’s impact on India’s Direct Action Day (16th August 1946). A poem by contemporary Santosh Bakaya about the same incident make one wonder why suddenly there is so much focus on this part of history.

Here’s to unraveling the mystery and celebrating Gandhiism in spirit—

‘He Belongs to Me, He Belongs to You’: Santosh Bakaya weaves magic in poetry around the persona of Gandhi. Click here to read. 

Gandhiji, a short story by Nabendu Ghosh, has been translated from Bengali by Ratnottama Sengupta. Click here to read.

Magic of the Mahatma , Ratnottama Sengupta shows the impact of Gandhi and his call for non-violence on Nabendu Ghosh as she continues to emote over his message of Ahimsa and call for peace amidst rioting. Click here to read.

Gandhi in Cinema Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri explores Gandhi in films and also his views on the celluloid screen. Click here to read.

Courtesy: Creative Commons
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Contents

Borderless September 2023

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

What do They Whisper?… Click here to read.

Conversations

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri in conversation with M.S. Viraraghavan and Girija Viraraghavan ( grand daughter of President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan) on their new book, Roses in the Fire of Spring: Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures. Click here to read.

In conversation with Isa Kamari, a celebrated writer from Singapore, with focus on his latest book, Maladies of the Soul. Click here to read.

Translations

A Hunger for Stories, a poem by Quazi Johirul Islam, has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

A Hand Mill, a story by Ammina Srinivasaraju, has been translated from Telugu by Johny Takkedasila. Click here to read.

Kiyya and Sadu, a part of this long ballad on the legendary lovers from Balochistan, has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

The Time for the Janitor to Pass by, poetry written in Korean and translated by Ilhwah Choi. Click here to read.

Sharat or Autumn, a poem by Tagore, has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Jared Carter, Rhys Hughes, Santosh Bakaya, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Sagar Mal Gupta, Nirmala Pillai, George Freek, Pramod Rastogi, Peter Devonald, Afshan Aqil, Hela Tekali, Swarnendu Ghosh, Alpana, Michael Burch

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Tintin in India, Rhys Hughes traces the allusions to India in these iconic creations of Hergé while commenting on Tintin’s popularity in the subcontinent. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

Black Pines and Red Trucks

Meredith Stephens shares the response of some of the Californian community to healing after the 2020 forest fires with a narrative and photographs. Click here to read.

Remembering Jayanta Mahapatra

KV Raghupathi travels down nostalgia with his memories of interactions with the recently deceased poet and his works. Click here to read.

The Toughness of Kangaroo Island 

Vela Noble draws solace and lessons from nature around her with her art and narrative. Click here to read.

Where is Your Home?

Madhulika Vajjhala explores her concept of home. Click here to read.

A Homecoming like No Other

Saumya Dwivedi gives a heartwarming anecdote from life. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Hair or There: Party on My Head, Devraj Singh Kalsi explores political leanings and hair art. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In Against Invisibility, Suzanne Kamata challenges traditions that render a woman invisible with a ‘sparkling’ outcome. Click here to read.

Essays

Jayanta Mahapatra: A Tribute to a Poetic Luminary

Dikshya Samantrai pays tribute to a poet who touched hearts across the world with his poetry. Click here to read.

Celebrating the novel… Where have all the Women Writers Gone?

G Venkatesh writes about a book from 1946. Click here to read.

Chandigarh: A City with Spaces

Ravi Shankar travels back to Chandigarh of 1990s. Click here to read.

The Observant Immigrant

In Climate Change: Are You for Real?, Candice Louisa Daquin explores the issue. Click here to read.

Stories

The Infamous Art Dealer

Paul Mirabile travels through Europe with an art scammer. Click here to read.

Getting Old is like Climbing a Mountain

Saranyan BV explores aging and re-inventing homes. Click here to read.

The Airport

Prakriti Bandhan shares a short, whimsical narrative. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Tales of a Voyager (Joley Dangay), translated by Nazes Afroz. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Sanket Mhatre’s A City Full of Sirens. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Begum Hazrat Mahal: Warrior Queen of Awadh by Malathi Ramachandran. Click here to read.

Basudhara Roy reviews Sanket Mhatre’s A City Full of Sirens. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Samragngi Roy’s The Wizard of Festival Lighting: The Incredible Story of Srid. Click here to read.

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Editorial

What do they Whisper?

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

‘Moment’ by Margaret Atwood

With an unmanned mission reaching the moon — that moon that was chipped off the Earth’s surface when Theia bashed into the newly evolving planet — many feel mankind is en route to finding alternate biomes and perhaps, a solution to its housing needs. Will we also call moon our ‘Homeland’ and plant flags on it as we do on Earth?  Does the Earth — or the moon — really belong to our species. Do we have proprietary rights on these because of lines drawn by powerbrokers who say that the land belongs to them?

These are questions Margaret Atwood addresses in her writings which often fall into a genre called cli-fi. This is gaining in popularity as climate has become uncertain now with changes that are wringing fear in our hearts. Not all fear it. Some refuse to acknowledge it. While this is not a phenomenon that is fully understood by all of us, it’s impact is being experienced by majority of the world — harsh stormy weather, typhoons, warmer temperatures which scorch life and rising water levels that will eventually swallow lands that some regard as their homeland. Despite all these prognostications, wars continue to pollute the air as much as do human practices, including conflicts using weapons. Did ‘climbing a hill’ and ‘planting the flag’ as Atwood suggests, ever give us the rights over land, nature or climate? Do we have a right to pollute it with our lifestyle, trade or wars — all three being human constructs?

In a recent essay Tom Engelhardt, a writer and an editor, contended, “Vladimir Putin’s greatest crime wasn’t simply against the Ukrainians, but against humanity. It was another way to ensure that the global war of terror would grow fiercer and that the Lahainas of the future would burn more intensely.” And that is true of any war… Chemical and biological weapons impacted the environment in Europe and parts of Afghanistan. Atom bombs polluted not only the cities they were dropped in, but they also wreaked such havoc so that the second generation’s well-being continues impacted by events that took place more than seven decades ago. Yet another nuclear war would destroy the Earth, our planet that is already reeling under the impact of human-induced climate change. Flooding, forest fires and global warming are just the first indications that tell us not only do we need to adapt to living in changed times but also, we need to change our lifestyles, perhaps even turn pacifist to survive in a world evolving into an altered one.

This month some of our content showcase how to survive despite changes in norms. Suggesting how to retain our flora in a warming world is a book, Roses in the Fire of Spring: Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures, by M.S. Viraraghavanand Girija Viraraghavan, the grandson-in-law and granddaughter of the second President of India, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888-1975). They have been in conversation with Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri to explain how they have adapted plants to create hybrids that survive changing climes. Would it be wishful to think that we can find solutions for our own survival as was done for the flora?

Critiquing the darker trends in our species which leads to disasters is a book by an eminent Singaporean writer, Isa Kamari, called Maladies of the Soul. He too looks for panacea in a world where the basic needs of humans have been satiated and they have moved on towards overindulgence that can lead to redundancy. In a conversation, he tells us how he hopes his writings can help towards making a more hopeful future.

This hope is echoed in the palliative poems of Sanket Mhatre from his book, A City full of Sirens, excerpted and reviewed by Basudhara Roy. Bhaskar Parichha’s review of Samragngi Roy’s The Wizard of Festival Lighting: The Incredible Story of Srid, is a tribute also from a granddaughter to her grandfather celebrating human achievements. Somdatta Mandal’s discussion of fiction based on history, Begum Hazrat Mahal: Warrior Queen of Awadh by Malathi Ramachandran not only reflects the tenacity of a woman’s courage but also explores the historicity of the events. Exploring bits of history and the past with a soupcon of humour is our book excerpt from Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Tales of a Voyager (Joley Dangay[1]), translated from Bengali by Nazes Afroz. Though the narrative of the translation is set about ninety years ago, a little after the times of Hazrat Mahal (1820 –1879), the excerpt is an brilliant introduction to the persona of Tagore’s student, Syed Mujtaba Ali (1904-1974), by a translator who describes him almost with the maestro’s unique style. Perhaps, Afroz’s writing bears these traces as he had earlier translated a legendary work by the same writer, In a Land Far from Home: A Bengali in Afghanistan. Afroz starts with a startling question: “What will you call someone who puts down his profession as ‘quitting job regularly’ while applying for his passport?”

Other than a semi-humorous take on Mujtaba Ali, we have Rhys Hughes writing poetry in a funny vein and Santosh Bakaya giving us verses that makes us laugh. Michael Burch brings in strands of climate change with his poems as Jared Carter weaves in nature as we know it. George Freek reflects on autumn. We have more poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Pramod Rastogi, Peter Devonald, Afshan Aqil, Hela Tekali and many more, adding to the variety of colours that enhance the vivacity of conversations that run through the journal. Adding more vibrancy to this assortment, we have fiction by Paul Mirabile, Saranyan BV and Prakriti Bandhan.

In non-fiction, we have Devraj Singh Kalsi’s funny retelling of his adventures with a barber while Hughes‘ essay on the hugely popular Tintin makes us smile. The patriarchal past is reflected in an essay by G Venkatesh, whereas Suzanne Kamata from Japan talks of women attempting to move out of invisibility. Meredith Stephens and Candice Louisa Daquin both carry on the conversation on climate change. Stephens explores the impact of Californian forest fires with photographs and first-hand narrative. Vela Noble draws solace and strength from nature in Kangaroo Island and shares a beautiful painting with us. Madhulika Vajjhala and Saumya Dwivedi discuss concepts of home.

Two touching tributes along with a poem to recently deceased poet, Jayanta Mahapatra, add to the richness of our oeuvre. Dikshya Samantrai, a researcher on the poet, has bid a touching adieu to him stating, “his legacy will continue to inspire and resonate and Jayanta Mahapatra’s name will forever remain etched in the annals of literature, a testament to the enduring power of the poet’s voice.”

Our translations this time reflect a diverse collection of mainly poetry with one short story by Telugu writer, Ammina Srinivasaraju, translated by Johny Takkedasila. Professor Fakrul Alam has introduced us to an upcoming voice in Bengali poetry, Quazi Johirul Islam. Ihlwha Choi has translated his own poetry from Korean and brought to us a fragment of his own culture. Fazal Baloch has familiarised us with a Balochi ballad based on a love story that is well known in his region, Kiyya and Sadu. Our Tagore translation has attempted to bring to you the poet’s description of early autumn or Sharat in Bengal, a season that starts in September. Sohana Manzoor has painted the scene depicted by Tagore for all of us to visualise. Huge thanks to her for her wonderful artwork, which invariably livens our journal.

Profound thanks to the whole team at Borderless for their support and especially to Hughes and Parichha for helping us source wonderful writings… some of which have not been mentioned here. Pause by our content’s page to savour all of it. And we remain forever beholden to our wonderful contributors without who the journal would not exist and our loyal readers who make our existence relevant. Thank you all.

Wish you all a wonderful month.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] Translated literally, it means Water & Land

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Visit the September edition’s content page by clicking here

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Conversation

Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri in conversation with M.S. Viraraghavan and Girija Viraraghavan

In their new book Roses in the Fire of Spring: Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures (Running Head, 2023), world-renowned rose hybridisers, M.S. Viraraghavan and Girija Viraraghavan, record their journey of over fifty years, creating more than a hundred new rose varieties, in a range of colours, shapes and types. The authors spoke to Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri on their lifelong passion for the rose.

The passion for roses goes back a long way – can you recall the first moments when you realised that this was a ‘calling’ you had to follow? Any epiphanic moment that leaps to the mind?

From quite a young age, Viraraghavan was fascinated with roses, but the epiphanic moment was really when his family spent summer vacations in Coonoor, staying at the government guesthouse within Sim’s Park, which overlooked a rose garden. Every morning, he would wander about this garden which was a blaze of colour of the new roses created from the golden rose of Persia, R. foetida by Pernet Ducher, a great French rose breeder. The brilliant, never-before-seen colours of these roses amazed him – from bright gold and apricot to dazzling oranges and reds. In particular, one of the golden roses took his breath away – ‘Julien Potin’, aptly named for a jeweller – its vivid colour was quite overwhelming for the boy of thirteen, already thrilled with roses. From this came the intoxicating thought: ‘If Pernet Ducher could do it, why not I?’

There’s a delightful little bit about Viraraghavan sir’s viva-voce for the IAS and how his knowledge of roses played an important part in him getting through that. Would you like to share that with our readers?

A difficult part of the IAS examination is the viva-voce, where a panel of senior administrators question the aspirant about various aspects of his or her life and ambitions. Viraraghavan was in the middle of this interview when the Chairman, by chance a learned rose grower, asked him what his hobbies were. ‘Growing roses,’ was the response. The next question was meant to be a googly to confuse a nervous candidate. ‘What roses can you grow in Madras City?’ But Viraraghavan had read the Complete Gardening in India by K.S. Gopalaswamiengar, well-known horticulturist of Bangalore, many times, so my answer was nearly verbatim from the chapter on various kinds of roses which do well in low-to-medium elevations, i.e., warm climates, so he reeled off the different rose classifications: Teas, Noisettes, Bourbons, Chinas, Hybrid Teas, Hybrid Perpetuals. The interview committee then decided it was prudent to go on to other questions rather than get a lecture from a young and seemingly unflurried candidate! But his capacity to master detailed information on various subjects had been noted, and he came through with flying colours (pun intended).

You mention making your presence on the world stage as late as 2000. Please give us a brief account of your work on roses before and after – a potted highlights package, if one can call it.

From the start, our rose breeding focused on creating better roses for warm climates based on the dictum of India’s pioneer rose breeder, B.S. Bhatcharji of Bengal and Bihar, who had stressed the need for a separate breeding line for warm climates as distinct from the Western focus on creating cold-hardy roses suitable for them. Thus, in the early years, our work was with those roses which, though Western, performed well in hot climates, and we had bred many which did well in Hyderabad where we lived. Then, after perusal of many books on roses, we realised the potential in two Indian rose species Rosa gigantea (from northeast India) and Rosa clinophylla (perhaps the world’s only tropical rose species). After getting them with great effort, we began to work with them. At every annual national rose convention in India we would present updates of our work. In 1999, at what happened to be a World Regional Rose Convention, in Jaipur, Viraraghavan’s talk, as always, focused on the breeding with the two rose species mentioned. After the talk, the World Federation of Rose Societies President, Helga Brichet, and Vice-President (South America), Mercedes Villar, came up to him and said they had never before heard of this kind of rose work or of these rose species and invited him to be a speaker at the next World Rose Convention to be held in May 2000 in Houston, Texas.

That was the start of a further phase of rose breeding with the realisation that other than India, several warm parts of the world were also looking for roses that would do well there. These two rose species had been personally collected by us from their native habitat. At Houston, and in other places, people were fascinated by this aspect, which no earlier breeder had undertaken, that is, personally collecting rose species in the wild, at great risk, growing them and using them in creating new roses; starting from scratch as it were. It made sense to them when Viraraghavan explained the dictum of that great German breeder Wilhelm Kordes I who said –‘The soup ladle will only bring out what is already in the tureen’, meaning that fresh genetic input was required if new and different roses are to be created. The enthusiastic response to his ideas strengthened his determination to go ahead with this new rose breeding line. There is nothing as intoxicating as the realisation that the rose world is watching our work with great interest.

One of the most fascinating sections of the book is the one titled ‘The Ones Who Came Before’. Please provide readers with a short account of these legendary influences.

Karrie’s Rose. Photo courtesy: M.S. Viraraghavan and Girija Viraraghavan

We had noticed that invariably roses were named for famous people with often no connection to the world of roses. This made us think: why not name our roses for the intrepid plant-hunters who had discovered roses in the wild, on mountains and in forests, and botanists who had contributed to the knowledge on plants.

One wild Indian rose is R. gigantea, from our north-east, and Myanmar. Three great plant hunters were responsible for collecting this species in the wild – Sir George Watt, General Sir Henry Collett and Frank Kingdon Ward. We decided to name our rose hybrids for all three. Sir George was a medical doctor with an interest in botany, and worked as a surveyor with the British India government. During the course of his work, in the 1880s, he found Rosa gigantea growing on the slopes of Mt Sirohi, now in Manipur, and collected specimens. Almost simultaneously, so did Sir Henry Collett, except in the Shan Hills in what is now Myanmar. Both specimens were identified as being the same and named by the great Belgian taxonomist of the time, François Crepin. Climbing Mt Sirohi in 1990, we came across and collected plants from perhaps the precise location that Sir George had found Rosa gigantea. We named our first hybrid, a creamy yellow climbing rose, for him. We then felt it should be planted near his ancestral home in Scotland. With the help of the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, we managed to get this new rose planted in the Logan Botanic Garden, very near Sir George’s birthplace. Some years later we embarked on a sentimental journey, along with his descendants and his associates’ descendants, visiting his grave and the hospital he had worked in after retiring from India, to see the rose blooming in Logan.

We named a second seedling we had bred from R. gigantea for General Sir Henry Collett, a rose with big creamy white blooms that has been planted in suitable areas in Britain as well, and, gratifyingly, being grown by some of his descendants. A third rose, a climber with blooms of yellow-suffused pink, was named for Frank Kingdon Ward, the legendary and intrepid plant hunter who collected innumerable new and wild Himalayan plants despite his surprising acrophobia! We then came across a piece by the then BBC 4 gardening anchor, Matthew Biggs, who had visited Kingdon Ward’s grave in Grantchester near Cambridge. He wrote about the neglected condition of the grave of one of the world’s greatest plant explorers. So we decided to make amends by planting ‘Frank Kingdon Ward’ by the wall nearest his grave in the churchyard in a moving ceremony organised by Matthew Biggs, and attended by a number of well-known British horticulturists, as also the family. An urn with the ashes of Sheila Macklin, Kingdon Ward’s wife, for whom he had named a Himalayan lily, and who had died just the previous year, was interred near his grave, and close to where the rose was planted.

We have also named a rose for Leschenault de la Tour, the great French plant explorer who found a beautiful new rose species, called Rosa leschenaultiana after him, in the Western Ghats in the early 1800s; our rose named for him is a climber with pure white blooms.

And of course we have a rose to celebrate the remarkable life and career of the great Indian botanist and cytogeneticist, E.K. Janaki Ammal, who co-wrote the Chromosome Atlas of All Cultivated Plants in 1945. She studied botany at Michigan State University in the 1920s on a full scholarship, later receiving a PhD and DSc honoris causa. Back in India, she played a vital role in creating the ‘Noble’ strain of sugarcane – an extraordinary hybrid of sugarcane and bamboo leading to varieties thick as a man’s arm in contrast to the pencil-thin traditional varieties. But credit was stolen by seniors at the research station, and so she went off to Britain. There she worked at famous institutes, including John Innes, Kew and the Royal Horticultural Society. Later, she met the then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru on a plane, and he put her in charge of reforming the Botanical Survey of India in Calcutta. But sadly she was a forgotten figure by the time of her death in 1984. Our rose named for her has the same colour hues as the saris she wore – orange yellow and saffron. A plant of this rose was planted in 2020 at the World Regional Rose Conference Kolkata, at the Botanical Survey of India garden. The rose has also been planted in the John Innes Institute, in Kew and the Royal Horticultural Society’s garden in Wisley in the UK.          

If one were to ask you of one moment each – one particular achievement in the journey and one abiding regret – what would these be and why?

There can be no doubt that the moment which was special in our rose breeding career was the moment described above, when Helga Brichet and Mercedes Villar came up to us in Jaipur in 1999, and said they had never heard such a new approach to breeding roses, pioneered by us, of using two Indian rose species to create a new line of warm-climate roses. It was their invitation to speak in Texas launched us on to the world stage of roses.

As for an abiding regret, that’s all too easy to answer. It’s the systematic neglect of Indian-bred roses by the rose-growing public of India, who remain fascinated by roses raised in Europe and the U.S. though they are utterly unsuited for Indian climates. This unreasonable preference for foreign rose varieties is part of the general craze for all things foreign. Fortunately, more recently, there has been a change, and young rose breeders and growers are realising that Indian bred roses do better in the heat and are slowly beginning to grow these.

Give us an insight into the challenges and pitfalls of growing and creating roses in India, as informed by your journey. Interesting story that highlighted these.

The main challenge was getting Indian roses accepted by the Indian rose growing public, as highlighted above. Indeed, now our roses are being grown in India, perhaps because they are being grown around the world! Another thing is one must learn patience. It takes us about eight to nine years to name and release a new rose. It is a long process, of the actual crossing of two roses, waiting for the fruit to ripen, then harvesting the fruit (rose hips), collecting the seeds, stratifying them in the refrigerator (if one lives on the hot plains), sowing the seed, waiting for the seedlings to sprout, growing the plant for a number of years to test its potential, and suitability, and only then finding a name and releasing it, by sending to a rose nursery to make more plants.

Our long career in rose breeding and our connected travels around the world has provided us with many interesting, even hilarious experiences. We were in Japan, at the Sakura Rose Garden. With us was a group of people including our friend, the well-known Japanese plant scientist, Dr Yuki Mikanagi. We were looking at a rose plant, with dark pinkish-red blooms with white on the reverse, bred by us and as yet unnamed. Yuki said she liked this rose very much. We immediately told her that we would name it for her. She said: ‘But this rose is red and white, whereas my name means “snow” in Japanese. Viru’s instant response was, ‘Then we will it name it Blushing Yuki,’ much to the delight of Yuki and everyone.

In his government service days, when we lived in Hyderabad, Viru would tend to his roses, watering and spraying them with fertilizers before leaving for office. There would be a number of telephone calls for him about some official matter. Girija would answer the phone (landline in those days), and when she told the callers he was busy spraying, they would hear it as ‘praying’ and immediately apologise: ‘Please do not disturb him when he is at his prayers’.

Both of us were hands-on gardeners, doing most of the work ourselves and you cannot garden without muddy hands and clothes. Very often visitors would mistake us for the garden help and request us to take them to the master or the mistress of the house. The looks on their faces when they realised who we were would make us laugh.

On one occasion, we were in California to receive the ‘Great Rosarians of the World’ Award. At the ceremony, we both first gave a talk on ‘Roses in India, Past Present and Future’. At the end of the ceremony, an earnest old lady came up to us and asked, in all seriousness, ‘Do roses grow in India?’

For most of us, roses are red and a Valentine’s Day Gift. Appendix 1 of your roses runs to 50 pages! Tell us briefly of some of the interesting ones, in particular the very evocative names you have, for example, Kindly Light, Meghamala/Wine-dark Sea, Twilight Secret. What goes into giving a name to a rose?

Apart from the roses we have named for friends, for other roses we like to give evocative names.

  • KINDLY LIGHT: we named this lovely white shading to soft pink rose after the hymn ‘Lead, Kindly Light’, a favourite of Mahatma Gandhi’s. We have the practice of giving two names to some of our roses, one better understood in India, if it is a Sanskrit word, and one for the West. This rose is named ‘Swami Vinayananda’ in India, for a monk of the Ramakrishna Mission order. He was great plantsman, his book on dahlias is a definitive work on all aspects of dahlia growing and he was very good rose grower.
  • MEGHAMALA/WINE-DARK SEA: One more example of two names for a rose. Meghamala translates as ‘garland of clouds’. The name for our rose was inspired by the purple garland-like pattern, reminiscent of clouds, on the petals of this rose, which otherwise are dark orange-red  in colour. ‘Meghamala’ is from a line by Devulapalli Krishna Sastri, beloved modern poet of the Telugu language, to whom the rose is a tribute. ‘Wine-Dark Sea’ derives from Homer’s epithet, in both the Iliad and Odyssey, of the purple shadows of approaching night on the orange-red waters reflecting the rays of a setting sun on the Aegean Sea.
  • ALLEGORY OF SPRING: We named a very special light-pink rose with intriguing pointed petals after the famous Botticelli painting La Primavera, also called ‘Allegory of Spring’.
  • INCENSE INDIGO: An indigo purple rose with an enticing fragrance was the inspiration for this name.
  • TWILIGHT SECRET and TWILIGHT TRYST: Two purple-hued roses that remind one of the late evening, shadowy light, romantic secrets and trysts.
  • AHIMSA: We gave this name to a golden yellow rose borne on a plant without any thorns (prickles), thinking of the Mahatma’s philosophy of non-violence.
  • KUSABUE’S GUARDIAN ANGELS: Kusabue is the name of a rose garden in Sakura City, Japan, entirely looked after by volunteers, all very senior citizens. This is our tribute to them.

Click here to read the excerpt

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri is a film buff, editor, publisher, film critic and writer. Books commissioned and edited by him have won the National Award for Best Book on Cinema twice and the inaugural MAMI (Mumbai Academy of Moving Images) Award for Best Writing on Cinema. In 2017, he was named Editor of the Year by the apex publishing body, Publishing Next. He has contributed to a number of magazines and websites like The Daily Eye, Cinemaazi, Film Companion, The Wire, Outlook, The Taj, and others. He is the author of two books: Whims – A Book of Poems(published by Writers Workshop) and Icons from Bollywood (published by Penguin/Puffin).

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Contents

Borderless June 2023

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Where have All the People Gone? … Click here to read.

Translations

Hena, a short story by Nazrul, has been translated from Bengali by Sohana Manzoor. Click here to read.

Mohammad Ali’s Signature, a short story by S Ramakrishnan, has been translated from Tamil by Dr B Chandramouli. Click here to read.

Three poems by Masud Khan have been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Shadows, a poem in Korean, has been translated by the poet himself, Ihlwha Choi. Click here to read.

Pran or Life by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Conversations

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri converses with Vinta Nanda about the Shout, a documentary by Vinta Nanda that documents the position of women in Indian society against the backdrop of the #MeToo movement and centuries of oppression and injustice. Click here to read.

In Conversation with Advait Kottary about his debut historic fiction, Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became the Buddha. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Michael Burch, Ananya Sarkar, George Freek, Smitha Sehgal, Rachel Jayan, Michael Lee Johnson, Sayantan Sur, Ron Pickett, Saranyan BV, Jason Ryberg, Priya Narayanan, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Evangeline Zarpas, Ramesh Karthik Nayak, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Ghee-Wizz, Rhys Hughes talks of the benefits of Indian sweets while wooing Yetis. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

Humbled by a Pig

Farouk Gulsara meets a wild pig while out one early morning and muses on the ‘meeting’. Click here to read.

Spring Surprise in the Sierra

Meredith Stephens takes us hiking in Sierra Nevada. Click here to read.

Lemon Pickle without Oil

Raka Banerjee indulges in nostalgia as she tries her hand at her grandmother’s recipe. Click here to read.

Apples & Apricots in Alchi

Shivani Shrivastav bikes down to Alchi Ladakh to find serenity and natural beauty. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Trees from my Childhood, Devraj Singh Kalsi muses on his symbiotic responses to trees that grew in their home. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In Superhero Sunday in Osaka, Suzanne Kamata writes of her experience at the Osaka Comic Convention with her daughter. Click here to read.

Stories

The Trial of Veg Biryani

Anagha Narasimha gives us a social satire. Click here to read.

Am I enough?

Sarpreet Kaur explores social issues in an unusual format. Click here to read.

Arthur’s Subterranean Adventure

Paul Mirabile journeys towards the centre of the Earth with his protagonist. Click here to read.

Essays

No Bucket Lists, No Regrets

Keith Lyons muses on choices we make while living. Click here to read.

In Search of the Perfect Dosa

Ravi Shankar trots around the world in quest of the perfect dosa — from South India to Aruba and West Indies. Click here to read.

“Bookshops don’t fail. Bookshops run by lazy booksellers fail.”

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri takes us for a tour of the Kunzum bookstore in New Delhi. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Greening the Earth: A Global Anthology of Poetry, edited by K. Sachitanandan and Nishi Chawla. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Advait Kottary’s Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became the Buddha. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Behind Latticed Marble: Inner Worlds of Women by Jyotirmoyee Devi Sen, translated from Bengali by Apala G. Egan. Click here to read.

Rakhi Dalal reviews Rhys Hughes’ The Wistful Wanderings of Perceval Pitthelm. Click here to read.

Basudhara Roy reviews Prerna Gill’s Meanwhile. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Zac O’Yeah’s Digesting India: A Travel Writer’s Sub-Continental Adventures With The Tummy (A Memoir À La Carte). Click here to read.

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Editorial

Where have All the People Gone?

Courtesy: Creative Commons

Can humankind ever stop warring and find peace?

Perhaps, most sceptics will say it is against human nature to stop fighting and fanning differences. The first recorded war was fought more than 13,000 years ago in what is now a desert but was green long ago. Nature changed its face. Continents altered over time. And now again, we are faced with strange shifts in climate that could redefine not just the dimensions of the surface area available to humankind but also our very physical existence. Can we absorb these changes as a species when we cannot change our nature to self-destruct for concepts that with a little redefining could move towards a world without wars leading to famines, starvation, destruction of beautiful edifices of nature and those built by humankind? That we could feed all of humans — a theory that won economist Abhijit Banerjee his Nobel Prize in 2019 so coveted by all humanity — almost seems to have taken a backseat. This confuses — as lemmings self-destruct…do humans too? I would have thought that all humanity would have moved towards resolving hunger and facing the climate crises post-2019 and post-pandemic, instead of killing each other for retaining constructs created by powerbrokers.

In the timeless lyrics of ‘Imagine’, John Lennon found peace by suggesting we do away with manmade constructs which breed war, anger and divisions and share the world as one. Wilfred Owen and many writers involved in the World Wars wrote to showcase the desolation and the heartfelt darkness that is brought on by such acts. Nazrul also created a story based on his experience in the First World War, ‘Hena’, translated for us by Sohana Manzoor. Showcasing the downside of another kind of conflict, a struggle to survive, is a story with a distinctive and yet light touch from S Ramakrishnan translated from Tamil by B Chandramouli. And yet in a conflict-ridden world, humans still yearn to survive, as is evident from Tagore’s poem Pran or ‘Life’. Reflecting it is the conditioning that we go through from our birth that makes us act as we do are translations by Professor Fakrul Alam of Masud Khan’s poetry and from Korean by Ihlwha Choi.

A figure who questioned his own conditioning and founded a new path towards survival; propounded living by need, and not greed; renounced violence and founded a creed that has survived more than 2500 years, is the man who rose to be the Buddha. Born as Prince Siddhartha, he redefined the norms with messages of love and peace. Reiterating the story of this legendary human is debutante author, Advait Kottary with his compelling Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became the Buddha, a book that has been featured in our excerpts too. In an interview, Kottary tells us more of what went into the making of the book which perhaps is the best survivor’s guide for humanity — not that we need to all become Buddhas but more that we need to relook at our own beliefs, choices and ways of life.

Another thinker-cum-film maker interviewed in this edition is Vinta Nanda for her film Shout, which highlights and seeks resolutions for another kind of crisis faced by one half of the world population today. She has been interviewed and her documentary reviewed by Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri. Chaudhuri has also given us an essay on a bookshop called Kunzum which continues to expand and go against the belief we have of shrinking hardcopy markets.

The bookshop has set out to redefine norms as have some of the books featured in our reviews this time, such as Rhys Hughes’ latest The Wistful Wanderings of Perceval Pitthelm. The reviewed by Rakhi Dalal contends that the subtitle is especially relevant as it explores what it says — “The Absurdity of Existence and The Futility of Human Desire” to arrive at what a person really needs. Prerna Gill’s Meanwhile reviewed by Basudhara Roy and poetry excerpted from Greening the Earth: A Global Anthology of Poetry, edited by K. Satchidanandan and Nishi Chawla, also make for relooking at the world through different lenses. Somdatta Mandal has written about Behind Latticed Marble: Inner Worlds of Women by Jyotirmoyee Devi Sen, translated by Apala G. Egan and Bhaskar Parichha has taken us on a gastronomic tour with Zac O’Yeah’s Digesting India: A Travel Writer’s Sub-Continental Adventures with the Tummy (A Memoir À La Carte).

Gastronomical adventures seem to be another concurrent theme in this edition. Rhys Hughes has written of the Indian sweets with gulab jamun as the ultimate life saver from Yetis while trekking in the Himalayas! A musing on lemon pickle by Raka Banerjee and Ravi Shankar’s quest for the ultimate dosa around the world — from India, to Malaysia, to Aruba, Nepal and more… tickle our palate and make us wonder at the role of food in our lives as does the story about biryani battles by Anagaha Narasimha.

Talk of war, perhaps, conjures up gastronomic dreams as often scarcity of food and resources, even potable water and electricity is a reality of war or conflict. Michael Burch brings to us poignant poetry about war as Ramesh Karthik Nayak has a poem on a weapon used in wars. Ryan Quinn Flanagan has brought another kind of ongoing conflict to our focus with his poetry centring on the National Day (May 5th) in Canada for Vigils for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women by hanging red clothes from trees, an issue that perhaps has echoes of Vinta Nanda’s Shout and Suzanne Kamata’s poetry for her friend who went missing decades ago as opposed to Rachel Jayen’s defiant poetry where she asserts her womanhood. Ron Pickett, George Freek and Sayantan Sur have given us introspective perspectives in verse. We have more poetry asking for a relook at societal norms with tongue-in -cheek humour by Jason Ryberg and of course, Rhys Hughes with his heartfelt poem on raiders in deserts.

The piece that really brought a smile to the lips this time was Farouk Gulsara’s ‘Humbled by a Pig’, a humorous recount of man’s struggles with nature after he has disrupted it. Keith Lyons has taken a look at the concept of bucket lists, another strange construct, in a light vein. Devraj Singh Kalsi has given a poignant and empathetic piece about trees with a self-reflective and ironic twist. We have narratives from around the world with Suzanne Kamata taking us to Osaka Comic Convention, Meredith Stephens to Sierra Nevada and Shivani Shrivastav to Ladakh. Paul Mirabile has travelled to the subterranean world with his fiction, in the footsteps perhaps of Jules Verne but not quite.

We are grateful to all our wonderful contributors some of whom have not been mentioned here but their works were selected because they truly enriched our June edition. Do visit our contents page to meet and greet all our wonderful authors. I would like to thank the team at Borderless without whose efforts and encouragement our journal would not exist and Sohana Manzoor especially for her fantastic artwork as well. Thank you all.

Wish you another lovely month of interesting reads!

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

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Essay

“Bookshops don’t fail. Bookshops run by lazy booksellers fail.”

With its four-storey outlet in GK-2, Ajay Jain has made Kunzum the new happening place for book lovers in Delhi-NCR. He converses with Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri  about his journey and about making brick and mortar stores viable in the era of Amazon as the writer browses through the different sections of the bookstore.

It is a bookstore unlike any I have been to, and that’s saying a lot. I visited it first sometime in December 2022, when it was still a work in progress, and even then it was stunning enough for me to get my aged parents, who need walking sticks, and my wife, who at the time was nursing a broken ankle, to visit this as a new year outing on 1 January 2023. Since then Kunzum at M Block Market, Greater Kailash 2, New Delhi, has grown to four floors spread over 10,000 square feet. The first floor is the regular bookstore, the second the Penguin bookstore. The third the ‘Theatre Kunzum’ – a 125-seater events hall – and the fourth an eighty-seater theatre, with plans for a café. There are other Kunzum bookstores which are a more modest 2500 square feet each. The original Kunzum Travel Café is approximately 500 square feet.

I enter it and am transported to a book lover’s paradise. Its very affable owner, Ajay Jain, and brilliant curator, Subir Dey – who generates in me a huge complex with his awareness of books and a hole in my pocket with his recommendations for the same – have time and again asked me to work out of the store. Which I would have gladly done, but for the fact that, one, it is impossible to get any work done once you enter its precincts (the only work it allows is browsing its shelves), and, two, I fear that I will end up spending all my salary at the store.  

What makes it remarkable is that Ajay can visualise a store chain like this in this day and age where we hear a constant refrain of brick and mortar stores closing down. Of how difficult it is to sustain one in the age of Amazon. Most of the major bookstores across the country have devoted a large part of the space to stationery and toys. Ajay is determined not to do that. As far as he is concerned, a bookstore is a bookstore. And there will be no dilution of the space. As Ajay says, “I was very clear from day one. We will not sell teddy bears, stationary, croissants (chuckles). It might be a slightly steeper learning curve, but we want to learn how to sell more books. If I’m not selling enough books, why am I in this business? I could have invested this money somewhere else. For me, it’s a social mission to push more people to read. If everyone, every human being on this planet, reads books, it would be a much better place to live in. When we read books, we also challenge rampant consumerism – we are taking the money away from buying other stuff to buy books.”

Given the quite extraordinary range of books, including rare and collectors’ editions – I picked myself a mind-blowing one on iconic book covers, The Look of the Book, by Peter Mendelsund and David Alworth – Subir Dey, the curator, is the backroom star of the show. A quiet, self-effacing book lover, Subir says, “I have been doing this for myself, at home, before Ajay started the bookshops. One day, I just picked up the phone and asked him, how can I help? Then, there is the community angle. I talk to fellow bibliophiles both online and offline who point out all the amazing editions of great books. The curation team at Kunzum is indispensable. Everyone has their favourite genre and we all diligently keep track. The classics and graphic novels are an easy target because of their popularity. Then there are collected works and anniversary/commemorative editions that we try to keep track of. Publishers help us with that too. For example, the Dune series picked up when the new movie came out. There are so many beautiful editions of the book that it is hard to choose. There are graphic adaptations of long-form novels like 1984, Animal Farm, The Kite Runner that we tracked down and have in stock. These are great books for someone who is intimidated by the traditional long-form novel format. This could be their gateway drug into reading and Kunzum would love to get them addicted. Special editions are a brilliant gifting idea. Books are the best gift you can give to people. Most of us have friends who are avid readers. These special editions are a very thoughtful gift. We tell our customers to bring a book to a party full of people who are bringing bottles of wine. We all used to give and receive books as gifts, growing up. Those books shaped our worldview. We are rolling out ads on social media to highlight the special editions available with us and pretty soon you will see more of these titles highlighted not just online but in our stores too. There is a demand for it, we have seen an uptick in the interest among buyers who are looking for specific edition of their favourite books and our team is happy to track them down.”

The Beginnings

Ajay Jain: I have a background in engineering and management, so I worked in the IT industry for five years. Then I got into sports management, and did that for five years. At the age of 31, I dropped everything and moved to the UK to study journalism. I did my master’s in journalism there. I came back in 2002, worked for the Express group, started a youth newspaper, got into blogging and freelance writing – mostly business and tech writing – which I did till about 2006–07. I was one of the earliest professional bloggers in the world. As a journalist/blogger/ influencer (the word wasn’t there at the time), and as somebody who wanted to write books, I figured I wanted to do something where I could create more of a legacy.

Early Reading

Ajay Jain: Growing up, I read the usual staple. You had your Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Famous Five. Unlike my classmates, I never read Agatha Christie or PG Wodehouse, but I had read all of James Hadley Chase by the time I was in Class 8. My headmaster used to ask me why I was borrowing these books from the library. I did so because they were there! I read a whole mixed bag of books in middle school and high school, even in college. I read Sidney Sheldon, Jeffrey Archer, Ayn Rand – a mixed bag. Anything that caught my fancy.

Travel Writing

Ajay Jain: Around 2007, at a personal and professional crossroads and unable to relocate from Delhi, I said to myself, ‘Okay, let me do the next best thing,’ and I became a travel writer. I’d done a few short road trips around India, and I was really enjoying travelling. Since I’d also learnt photography, I was doing a lot of that. I thought, why not make it a profession? So I hit the road.

I didn’t want to write a Lonely Planet kind of book, and I also didn’t want it to be a literary piece. I was thinking of my own format. The first trip I actually went on was to this place called Spiti in Himachal. I spent a night in Manali, and then headed for Spiti. I crossed the Rohtang Pass. Till then, it was fine because there were other people. I’d never done that kind of terrain ever. I drove for hours in a high-altitude desert area with no road signs, no mobile signals, nothing! Just a track where you followed earlier track marks. After a while I realised I was lost!

The Defining Moment – the Birth of Kunzum

Ajay Jain: I just kept driving, not coming across another human being for hours. Imagine not seeing another human being for hours in a country like India. Suddenly I came upon a plateau, upon a sign that said ‘Kaza’, which was where I was headed! That spot, where I stood, was the most astounding place. As I looked around, the only thing I saw was snow peaks, Buddhist flags flying, complete silence. It was breath-taking. I thought to myself, if this is what the planet is, if this is what India is, I want to be a travel writer. In that moment, not only did I find my direction to Kaza, I found my direction in life as well. The spot where I stood was Kunzum-La.

After I returned, I called my blog Kunzum.com. A little accident in technology worked in my favour. I had reserved the domain called traveltattoo.com as my travel blog. For some reason, the registrar didn’t inform me that my domain was up for renewal. It got taken by someone else. In losing traveltattoo.com, I got Kunzum.com. That’s how the name Kunzum came up.

Kunzum Gallery, Hauz Khas Village

Ajay Jain: I did a few shows for my photography at places like Habitat Centre and got a decent response. I was encouraged to open a place of my own and came across a place in Hauz Khas Village. I picked it up in 2009 and opened up a gallery there. On the first day I sold a print, and then for the next year or so I didn’t sell a single thing! So, I was just sitting there with some friends, mulling over what to do, and we realised that all the people who bought my prints in Habitat just happened to be passing by. They saw the prints, they liked it, and bought it on the spot because the prints weren’t very expensive. I decided to do something there (in the gallery in Hauz Khas) that would get people in. That’s when we decided to offer seating in the gallery- let people come in, enjoy free WiFi, etc.

We set up a small library so that people could borrow books, and decided to serve up tea, coffee and cookies. We thought we could pay for all of this. When we looked at the numbers (and crunched them), we realised that if we pay for everything and a certain number of people come, and nobody pays, we will be out of pocket by so much, but will have acquired some customers for that price of coffee and cookies and all.

Funding the Enterprise

Ajay Jain: I was still freelancing, and had been investing over the years with whatever I’d saved from my various ventures. I was just getting by. We decided to rebrand the place in Hauz Khas from Kunzum Gallery to Kunzum Travel Café. The place took a life of its own. A few days after we opened, someone came in asking if we could do a poetry reading, to which I agreed. Before we knew it, we had over 200 events happening in the café every year. There were all sorts of events – book launches, film screenings, poetry events, talks, etc.

We were clear about the financials. If you benefited commercially from it, you pay us. If there was nothing commercial, if you didn’t have the budget, okay, you could use the space anyway (if the event was suitable). We kept it flexible. My main motivation was to get people in, to see my photography and my books, which were sold at the café.

Bookstore Chain in the Time of Amazon

Ajay Jain: During the pandemic, I was reassessing a lot of things. I have always believed that just because we are doing something well, we should not be doing it all our lives. With the pandemic, I had to shut Kunzum Café for over two years, making do with a skeletal staff throughout. I wrote my first novel. I kept wondering: how do I find an audience for my books? No matter how big your publishers are, or how big you are as an author, you still need to find your own readership. Then I thought, why don’t I set up a book club? A national book club, something that would have many people. The response came in quickly as well. I enrolled a couple of thousand members.  

That’s when I thought, why don’t I turn Kunzum Travel Café into a chain of reading rooms? Build a model where we create reading rooms across the country, where people come and sit and read. The numbers didn’t add up though. There was no model that would make this sustainable for me. Enough people wouldn’t pay enough money to make this a library-type of model. It wouldn’t work in this climate, especially when real-estate had become so expensive. I had learnt how to build a community, how to bring people together through Kunzum Travel Café, but I didn’t know how to monetise it.

People had asked me, will there be more Kunzum Travel Cafes? Will there be a Kunzum Travel Café franchise? For me, Kunzum Travel Café was more of an exercise in personal branding. For the external investor, there would be no ROI since the only one benefiting from Kunzum Café was one Ajay Jain. In the process, I started making money doing brand endorsements through Kunzum Travel Café. It was more like a PR agency, so the only guy benefiting would have been me.

That is when I realised I should open a chain of bookshops! The model would be Kunzum Travel Café, but with a bookshop added to it. I did some back-of-the-envelope market research. There were people buying books, publishers doing business. In absolute numbers, there were more books being sold than ever before. I went to the bookshops which had good business – like Bahrisons, Faqir Chand, Midlands, etc. They had a huge legacy and were located in prime locations. I figured that I’d learnt how to make Kunzum Café in Hauz Khas a destination, and that I’d make this new venture a destination also. I didn’t really feel too daunted by this, I knew we’d figure things out as we went along. If I started asking too many questions, I would have been dissuaded immediately, so I thought that I’d figure it out on the road.

We have five locations. The GK one has four floors, so you can consider them either four stores or just one. At the core, the business model is simple – sell books, and sell enough books to make a profit. It’s still early days for us, we are on the way as we speak. I know that trends are right, and within this year we will be operationally profitable, so I’m not too worried about that.

I did a bit of reading, given that stores were closing all over the world, and the rise of Amazon. If Amazon did not exist, or if Amazon did not offer such discounts, many more bookshops would be open today. People would still prefer to walk into a bookstore for the experience of buying a book over buying it online. Because Amazon offers such discounts, most people think books are easier to buy online. I blame publishers squarely for this, not Amazon.

The Irony of Publishers Killing Bookstores

Ajay Jain: If books and readership are being challenged by other forms of entertainment, and readers are distracted, one needs to look at this as something cultural. That’s why experiences become important. Experiences are connected to physical spaces. That’s how you expand readership. Unfortunately, when I started interacting with publishers, I noticed that they show little intent to expand readership in society. They are making enough money not to think about expanding readership. It’s not enough for publishers to tell me, “Hey, I love what you’re doing at Kunzum Café.” They need to plug the discounting at Amazon, and the piracy of books. More than piracy, I think the discounting is a problem, which publishers can solve partly through lobbying, and partly through curtailing supply, if they want to. They own the product, and if they say no, that can change things.

The publishers’ argument is that they give the books to distributors to be sold, and these distributors are not within their control. The fact is, everyone is traceable. Publishers know who is selling their books, and can plug supply. If a reseller picked up a book on Amazon to resell, the publisher could tell Amazon to stop them. It could get into a cat-and-mouse game but eventually, it would dissuade them so much that the incentive to play this game would go down.

France Shows the Way

Ajay Jain: Look at what happened in France. The government in France forbade Amazon from offering discounts of more than 5 per cent on books. The French government realised bookshops were a national cultural asset. Because of this, bookshops that were struggling are now flourishing, and new bookshops are opening. This change came through legislation.

In India, if publishers want, they can move the Competition Commission, and say that discounting on Amazon is an unfair trade practice. In a country like India, where you have the MRP [Maximum Retail Price], if you can’t sell above MRP, how can you sell below MRP? Especially because all governments in India have the same stated position on FDI [Foreign Direct Investment] in retail, which is to ‘protect the small trader’. So, Competition Commission could look at how these discounting practices are putting businesses in such a precarious situation. If the publishers make enough of a song-and-dance about it, if they lobbied, if they took legal recourse, I think this issue can be resolved. We have a precedent in France now.

Financial Viability

Ajay Jain: When I was doing research, I wasn’t researching into whether I could open bookshops or not. I was researching how to make it viable. I had already decided I was going to commit to this venture. I’d started acquiring the real estate for it. I read someplace, “Bookshops don’t fail. Bookshops run by lazy booksellers fail.” In today’s day and age, not just books, you have to sell every commodity as an experience. You could be selling shirts, shoes, books, anything, because everything you want is available online. But if you want people to come to the stores, shopping malls, markets, you need to create that experience for people.

The Four Cs of Bookshop Design and Marketing

Ajay Jain: I have formulated what I call ‘The Four Cs of Bookshop Design and Marketing’. First is Configuration, which is basically the way you design the stores. If you look around, we’ve designed them in a way that the shelves don’t overwhelm you. There is enough space to move around, to sit down, to go through the books. You have browsing space and you can maintain a distance between yourself and the shelves. Not only is the vibe inviting, the design also allows you to discover books which you may not have discovered in an overstocked bookstore. The whole mood of being inside a bookstore is extremely important.

The second C is Curation. The kind of titles we select, the way we display them, and the way we help customers discover new material. Finding books customers were not looking for makes for a delightful experience. That is what will bring them back. These customers will say, “Hey, you know what? I went to Kunzum and found this great book! I loved it. It was money well-spent and time well-spent.” This is where Subir and his team come in.

The third C is Community, which we were doing at Kunzum Travel Café. We wanted to build a community of not just readers, but creators – writers, artists, designers, editors, everyone involved in creating books. Again, like Kunzum Travel Café, look at it like a larger cultural thing. So, bring in musicians, film-makers, puppeteers! We wanted to bring these people together to create a community.

The fourth C, Convene, aims to bring these people together for events. Ever since we’ve been fully operational, we’ve already hosted over 500 authors. We’re adding many more events, more programming, more partnerships, so that people can come and use our spaces. We make sure that there is enough space for people at our events, and that people don’t have to push bookshelves in order to be able to participate. We have dedicated spaces for events.

Since many people in my team come from the book retail industry, when the first store opened, the first question they asked was, “Sir, haven’t you wasted a lot of space?” The event space is going to be your brand ambassadors, your marketing agents. People will want to come for these events. We built the whole model on these four Cs. The signs are positive. People will come and talk about you, and be here, and will want to buy books from you. It’s just a matter of time before enough people will buy these books.

The Penguin Floor and Other Initiatives

The Penguin floor

Ajay Jain: In GK 2 we had just one floor, the first floor, a general bookstore, to begin with. Then an opportunity came to acquire the rest of the building above. Because the terms were attractive, I agreed. Then I thought, why not have thematic floors? One thought was that half of the second floor could be a graphic comic and art store, and the other half would be for children’s books, with the rest of the spaces above being dedicated to events. I was in the Penguin office having a general talk about multiple things. I really loved their office, so I said, “Look, it’s like a bookstore in itself.” I proposed that we should have an exclusive Penguin store. Penguin is one publisher with such range and distribution in books, no other publisher has ever come close. Their international collection is only increasing, and they have so much to offer. I don’t think the exclusive floor in our bookshop would have worked with any other publisher, just because no other publisher can offer the range Penguin has. They have graphic novels and comics – an important genre for us.

Then we got an offer from the top management, and I got excited. Like everything else in life, I ran with the idea, and decided to work out the viability later. The idea is that our bookshop showcases the best Penguin has to offer, incentivising Penguin to bring in their best in terms of their programming, their authors, and their events. It technically becomes a Penguin showcase. For us, it’s an opportunity to work closer with the world’s biggest publishing house. A few weeks ago, the UK Penguin team confirmed to me that this (the floor of the bookshop) was the only exclusive Penguin store in the world.

As part of a community, we’ve actually taken a lot of initiatives. One of them is called Book Bees, which is a book club for children, for kids up to twelve. Our children’s book section is called Kunzum Book Bees now. We also have a general book club called the Kunzum Book Club. Anyone can become a member for free. If you become a member, you get priority invites to events, we will give you first access to signed editions, which are always in limited supply; we will give you a little discount on our books, stuff like that. That’s part of the community-building exercise.

We launched the Kunzum CEO Book Club, where we’re getting corporates to come on board to encourage the culture of reading. The proposition being that all leaders are readers. If you want to nurture leadership within your organisation, you need to promote readership. We’re reaching out to them, asking them to buy books on a structured basis to distribute them amongst their employees, and maybe go even beyond that, by distributing them amongst their vendors, their customers, to spread the culture of reading.

We launched this programme called ‘Kunzum Key’ which is open to everyone, but primarily for creators of all kinds. You could be an actor, a dancer, a film-maker, a producer, an event-manager, a musician, anything! We give a free membership card that allows them to create at Kunzum – keep their own sort-of-office as long as they follow a fair-use policy. These creators can come, sit here, do their work, hold meetings, have interactions, brainstorm, showcase their work in some way. They will be offered free WiFi, which we don’t offer our regular customers. Every time these creators come they will be given a no-questions-asked complimentary cup of coffee or tea, and the bookstore will give them a very hefty 20 per cent discount on all the books they buy at the store.

Then there are the lit-fests. We are reaching out to every possible event where there are likely to be people who will buy books. We are asking them to make us their official bookstore partner.

Reaching Out to the Underprivileged

There’s a limitation to how many bookstores we can set up and how much we can do in each store. We don’t want to expand our physical spaces indiscriminately because we want to stay true to the culture we are trying to create. If we expand too much, or thin ourselves out, even if we get funding, which comes with its own pressures, we don’t want to lose our essence.

Our idea of expansion is to take Kunzum to potential readers. The corporate sector is a very obvious one. We’ve started doing small book fairs and events at different localities to promote the culture of books and reading at your doorstep. Schools and colleges are important to us. The intent is there. We’ve already reached out to a few schools, some of the DAV schools, where we did some events. There’s around a thousand schools there. Each school in the DAV chain cuts across all segments of society. We’ve also been approached by a few universities and colleges. We have a limitation of manpower. We want to make sure our manpower can pay for itself. We want to reach out to schools to, again, promote this culture of reading. If schools start buying at an institutional level from us, they can make books available for students who are not able to afford books. That’s where, again, we go back to the whole ethos of ‘Curation’ we are trying to create. Don’t just buy books that you think everyone is reading for the sake of being like everyone else. We’ll help you select books that you may not have thought of. I have been thinking of a programme where enthusiastic readers who are unable to afford books can be matched with someone who could fund their books. Of course, we will have to do it in a slightly more structured way. When I meet anyone from above a certain economic stratum, I see how privileged they are because they can afford to buy books but they are not reading books. There are people out there who want to read books…

At an LGTBQIA event that we had done, a guest who loves books said she couldn’t read anymore because of an eyesight problem. There was another young person there who wanted to read books but could not afford to buy. They just got chatting, they’d never met each other, and the former bought the book for the latter. She said, “I can’t read, but you can, so here’s the book for you.” How do we kind of institutionalise this programme? We’ll have to figure it out.

Regional Language Library

There are a couple of issues here. We will have a space constraint – where do we store it? Number two, how would we curate it? Because every language would require a different curator. In a city like Delhi, there would be enough Telugu readers, Bengali readers. But then, Bengali readers may want something other than the popular titles we might store. They might be looking for a larger collection. A lot of vernacular readers invest a lot in their respective languages. We might not be able to build depth to cater to that audience, so that’s a challenging situation to be in.

Going Ahead

We want to be present in every community – corporates, residential neighbourhoods, schools and colleges, etc. In a small way, we are sending books to rural areas too. For that to pick up pace, we need to look at it slightly differently. For now, we’re doing it in our small capacity. The whole idea is, irrespective of how many stores we have, we just want to go out there and get more people to read. Whether they borrow books and read, or buy books from Kunzum or not, let that be secondary. It falls upon every book lover to spread the good word, and encourage other people to read. Once you overcome that inertia and start reading, you stay with it.

Ajay Jain in Kunzum Bookstore

(Published in multiple sites)

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri is a film buff, editor, publisher, film critic and writer. Books commissioned and edited by him have won the National Award for Best Book on Cinema twice and the inaugural MAMI (Mumbai Academy of Moving Images) Award for Best Writing on Cinema. In 2017, he was named Editor of the Year by the apex publishing body, Publishing Next. He has contributed to a number of magazines and websites like The Daily Eye, Cinemaazi, Film Companion, The Wire, Outlook, The Taj, and others. He is the author of two books: Whims – A Book of Poems(published by Writers Workshop) and Icons from Bollywood (published by Penguin/Puffin).

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Discussion

No Country for Women

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri introduces #Shout, a documentary by Vinta Nanda that documents the position of women in Indian society against the backdrop of the #MeToo movement and centuries of oppression and injustice and converses with Vinta about the film.

The team that created Shout with Vinta Nanda in the centre, next to the woman in the yellow. Photo Courtesy: Vinta Nanda

Women are not asking for protection of their vaginas – they are asking for the freedom to live their lives as equal citizens.

The landlord’s son making out with a Dalit girl is a coming-of-age ritual.

These are just two of the many views that stun you in Vinta Nanda’s thought-provoking and disquieting documentary, #Shout. In a little over 90 minutes, the film covers a huge ground, taking into its ambit not just the #MeToo movement, from which it originated, but also the deep-rooted patriarchy and misogyny that has been written into the DNA of our nation. As a respondent in the film, a transgender, says: “We are not good enough to be regular citizens purely because a sexual harassment case filed by a woman could lead to a punishment of seven years whereas a transgender getting raped gets only six months.” The matter-of-fact nature in which the interviewee puts this across only serves to highlight the agony that permeates every word. And the hopelessness of the situation.

You realize – yes, women have an uneven playing field, but the issues the film underlines are not circumscribed by that. And that there are nuances to the debate that we do not even think of. As Tara Kaushal, author of Why Women Rape, says, the discussion on rape has to account for the fact that there’s a whole different dynamic at play when we talk of it in the context of a marriage or when a sex worker is involved. How do you address the fact that ‘stalking’ is seen as a courting ritual than as an offence or as trespassing?

There’s also something intrinsically wrong with a society where a labourer is made to pay with both his arms and a leg for daring to speak up against the rape of his minor daughter in the way Bant Singh of Mansa was. One of the most harrowing and at the same time inspirational passages of the film tells his story – and that brings another dynamic into the dismal picture: that of caste. If there’s one thing as unfortunate as being a woman in this country, it’s being poor and a Dalit. 

Bant Singh. Photo Courtesy: Vinta Nanda

One of the striking aspects is the range of respondents that the director has interviewed. There are academics and writers like Urvashi Butalia and Nirupama Dutt, who bring their experience of the feminist movement in India to bear upon the narrative. There is journalist Namita Bhandare who argues cogently how the conversation in #MeToo tended to become a case of ‘he said /she said’ – the woman’s word against the man’s. There’s Sabita Lahkar from Assam, a journalist who alleged sexual harassment at the hands of a leading journalist and Sahitya Akademi award winner way back in 2003, before ‘me too’ became part of our discourse. And there is Bhanwari Devi, whose ordeal led to the landmark Vishakha guidelines in 1997 and The Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act 2013. It is with a sense of awe that you listen to Bhanwari Devi narrate not only the ignominy she was subjected to – imagine the accused in the case being acquitted on the ground that her husband couldn’t have passively watched his wife being gang-raped – but also the vast reserves of fortitude that comes through in her responses on camera.

What’s also commendable about the film is that it does not become an exercise in agitprop. It would be easy to approach the subject with anger. And much of what Vinta documents does leave you seething. However, the anger here is leavened by an intrinsic understanding of the fact that haranguing against or blaming any one section of society serves no purpose. And that there are no overnight solutions in a country that lives in many centuries at the same time. That lends the film an elegiac tone that’s impossible not to be moved by. What also adds to the film’s ‘objective’ take is Vinta’s own history – she was one of the prominent voices in India’s #MeToo story and as such aware of much of the discourse in the film. Against that background, her decision to leave herself out of the narrative is a brave one, and one that gives the film a rare distance too. It must have been tough to condense such a vast spectrum of narratives – the filmmakers had to restrict the number of respondents to 55 – in the span of 90 minutes, and you wonder if the film runs the risk of paying lip service to the issues. The narrative does get somewhat diffused in the last quarter of an hour, when the background score, otherwise well-modulated, tends to sound a trifle at odds with the tone in the rest of the narrative. However, as Vinta argues, none of these issues can be seen in isolation, and each aspect flows into and is born of the others. 

To Vinta’s credit, the film does not lose sight of the little details even when being aware of the larger picture. Justice Sujata Manohar, who was part of the three-member bench which formulated the Vishakha guidelines, has two of the film’s rare amusing moments – which ironically tell a lot about the way we continue to think of women in the workspace. Reminiscing on one of the first cases involving a women barrister in Indian jurisprudence, she narrates how the woman was handed a case that she could not possibly lose. When the lady expressed her surprise at being given the responsibility, something that the male lawyer could easily do, she was told that her client wanted her to take it up only to inflict on his adversary the humiliation of being defeated by a woman! Not much had changed decades later when Justice Manohar was asked if she was in the profession looking for a husband.

These off-the-cuff insights give the film its potency, coexisting with the fiery poetry of Amy Singh or the debate on how a woman’s body becomes a playground for scoring political and religious points. Nowhere better illustrated than the heart-breaking testimony of Deepika Rajawat, advocate of the Jammu and Kashmir High Court, vis-à-vis the Kathua rape case, where the inhuman killing of an eight-year-old snowballed into a Hindu-Muslim debate. Or in the way Chinmayi Sripaada highlights how her testimony in the #MeToo movement was given a political twist. While it was alleged that she was acting at the behest of a powerful political party, Priya Ramani’s equally damaging claims against one of India’s celebrated journalists and a minister at the Centre were sought to be dismissed as a smear campaign against the same party.

This is an important work. And a bleak one. Watching this brought to light the fact that beyond the cases that make the headlines, there’s a whole world that we are simply not aware of or concerned about. And that in the era of social media everything comes with a fifteen-day sell-by date. Not a single region of the country emerges unscathed from the filmmaker’s scalpel. If there’s Asifa Bano in Kashmir, there’s the rape victim in Unnao, Uttar Pradesh, whose father died in judicial custody under suspicious circumstances. If Bhanwari Devi and Roop Kanwar are the shame of Rajasthan, Manorama Devi of Manipur remains a blot on our collective conscience. From Dr Sister Jesme of Kerala (recounting her abuse at the hands of a priest) to Bilkis Bano of Gujarat – the malaise runs deep and wide.

Banwari Devi. Photo Courtesy: Vinta Nanda

After all, what do you say about a country where a former Chief Justice of India addresses allegations of sexual harassment against him by offering his ‘modest’ bank balance as proof of his integrity. Or where almost all the perpetrators of the most heinous crimes of sexual predation have been rehabilitated in major literary, cultural and political circles. This is a film puts the whole country in the dock.

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Directed by: Vinta Nanda

Produced by: Gayatri Gill, Siddharth Kumar Tewary and Rahul Kumar Tewary

Cinematography: Shanti Bhushan Roy

Editing: Puloma Pal

Sound Supervision: Bishwadeep Dipak Chatterjee

Sound Design: Mohandas

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Tell us something about the genesis of Shout.

It came to me from out of the blue. I got a call from Siddharth Kumar Tewary, one of three producers with Gayatri Gill and Rahul Kumar Tewary, that Gayatri was toying with the idea of making a documentary on the #MeToo movement. This was in 2019, when the movement was still smouldering. Gayatri and Siddharth were understanding about where I stood, personally, on the issue. The first draft of the write-up I gave to them was a clincher and we were ready to sail.

It covers a whole gamut. Were you daunted that it could become unwieldy with each individual aspect not getting enough space?

Manisha Mashaal, a Dalit leader and women’s rights activist in Kurukshetra, Haryana, says, “We don’t know when the media will have a #MeToo movement for us. We are invisible to the world?” In my understanding of things, she is a feminist. But did she participate in the #MeToo movement? Was she even a voice? Obviously not!

While the #MeToo movement did several things to empower women in general, it also didn’t do other things that it could’ve done. I was clear in my mind about what I felt about the movement. My approach was to put the #MeToo movement in perspective to the attitudes and behaviours of Indian men and women towards women’s rights and also in context of the many other movements that have dotted the gender landscape over the last fifty years or so. Without understanding patriarchy, without applying the context of feminism to the #MeToo movement and without discussing rape, there could only be a voyeuristic offering, and that meant we would be feeding the monster.

I never felt daunted or ever thought it would be unwieldy to deal with the many things because rape, patriarchy and feminism are discussions that belong to the same discourse. The support of the media during the #MeToo movement gave women the confidence to publicly name the men who had abused them, men who were brazen because collective misogyny had provided them a cover.

For something this vast – was there a definite plan to the way the actual shooting was structured. Can you give us a snapshot of the logistics of putting together the documentary?

(Retd) Justice Sujata Manohar says, succinctly, in the film, “We live in several centuries at the same time.” This was also our primary challenge when we started working on the film. How do we make a film which will resonate with people from all walks of life, urban, rural, young, senior, everybody?

We started working on the film in mid-2019. We headed straight to research. Bani Gill, Paroma Sadhana and Shiv Bhalla formed the research team and they came back to us with a vast ocean of knowledge. We were a small but formidable team. Gayatri and I were at the centre, flanked by our creative consultants Priti Chandriani and Veena Bakshi, and then we had Siddharth at the outer ring to present to and who would respond objectively. For about three months we worked every day and dived deep into the way the gender discourse has played itself out in India over many years before the #MeToo movement happened.

While research was under way, we started connecting with the people that our findings were throwing up. We had a huge list but had to put a stop at fifty-five. We divided them by the geographies they belonged to, and planned our travels accordingly. We had worked on the questions but I was also aware that we were meeting women and men of great significance. So each interview I canned is over 40 minutes long because there was so much more to talk about with each of them, which was way beyond what the film could contain. We are working on a website that will carry some of the material, also a YouTube channel. We are also working on a book we plan to publish later this year.

My DOP[Director of Photography], Shanti Bhushan Roy, and I were aligned perfectly. We were travelling to so many places and we decided to capture the beauty of every place that our subjects inhabited – we wanted to capture the sound, the music. Most importantly, we wanted to capture the stillness, too, in India, which was in correspondence with the emptiness we felt.

We were fortunate to finish the shooting before the pandemic was declared, before the first lockdown. I remember we returned to Mumbai from Imphal on 15 March 2020 and the lockdown was declared on 22 March. We were in a good place to start editing.

The editing process was a long one but Puloma Pal, the editor of the film, did a brilliant job. With the first cut, Siddharth, Gayatri and I knew that the soul and the scale we had imagined was there. Then, Puloma divided the film into parts, a process which gave the film its form and rhythm.

Our real struggle started when we handed over our final cut to the sound supervisor, Bishwadeep Dipak Chatterjee. After he saw the cut, he called for a meeting with us where shared his thoughts about the possibilities he could see us achieve with the soundtrack. His conviction was compelling and we decided to revisit the final cut. Puloma and I took a break for a few weeks. I told Puloma that we should give ourselves four weeks, and if we had a Eureka moment we would regroup and re-edit the film. If not, we would go with what we had.

About three weeks later, Puloma called me. She had an epiphany and narrated what she had in mind. She had caught Bishwadeep’s pulse and was ready to give him what he needed to build the soundtrack. After three more rounds of editing we were done. The experience was magical. Then we went to Kolkata to record the song with Usha Uthup, which was composed by Raja and written by Amy Singh. Mohandas started working on the sound design.

Usha Uthup & Vinta Nanda. Photo Courtesy: Vinta Nanda

One remarkable feature is the variety of experiences you have gathered. Can you give us an insight into how you went about choosing the people you have spoken to.

The research brought up many names. The four people who showed us the light along the way were Namita Bhandare, Preeti Gill, Nirupama Dutt and Mitra Phukan. It was Namita who guided us to (Retd) Justice Sujata Manohar, Nikita Saxena, Vandana Grover and others. Preeti led us to Nirupama Dutt, Urvashi Butalia, Bibi Kiranjot Kaur and Amy Singh. Subsequently, Nirupama took us to Bant Singh, Mitra connected us to Bijoy Kumar Tayenjam. It was through Bijoy we met Pradip Phanjubaum and Ratan Thiyam and so on…

Social media helped to trace Sabita Lahkar, some others too. We went on this forty-day journey by road and air to meet survivors, families of victims, feminists, authors, legal experts, activists, poets, religious leaders, actors – all those who had a deep connection with the issue as well as the politics surrounding it.

The most astonishing aspect of the documentary is how all-pervasive the malaise is. We seem to be country united only by the way we mistreat our women.

It is true that if there’s one factor ubiquitous it is the way women are treated in our country. It is no secret that women are second-class citizens wherever they are and whichever profession and hierarchy they belong to. They work as hard as men, often more, but they are not called breadwinners. It is one of the problems. Moreover, as some of the speakers in the film have said, rape is about power and about how power is expressed in our world. It is political, it is feudal and it is the harshest face of the deep patriarchy that defines our culture, our society.

Irrespective of the progress we make, irrespective of the several revolutions of the past centuries, industrial, information-communication or technology, the system remains feudal. The culture that drives behaviours and practices, across economic and social divides, is inflexible. It is intimidated by women and designed to keep them in control, guide the course of their lives.

The system is neither fair to women nor to the men. Why should men be forced to bear the burden of women’s safety on their shoulders? When a system can deliver vaccines to 2 billion people, why can’t it deliver a message, a powerful idea, to every corner of the earth? Obviously there’s a lack of intention and political will. And, moreover, the world still cannot see the advantages, dividends and profit in doing that!

It’s only in recent times that women are beginning to find a voice, and the credit for it goes to the feminist movements that have taken place in India and the rest of the world over the last 50 years at least, at the grassroot level as well as in metropolises. We were sure that we didn’t want to leave the efforts of the past out from our narration. After all, the #MeToo movement would find no ground to keep its feet on if it wasn’t for several battles fought by women for their rights as equal citizens.

As someone who became an important driver of the #MeToo campaign – would you like to share your personal experience of that and how that shaped this film?

I broke my silence during the movement in October 2018 and, overnight, I was speaking to the national media about myself and what had happened to me. Barely a couple of months later it was business as usual for everyone. When left alone, I felt a hollowness and it was then that I, for the first time, introspected and explored the situation. I realised that in India, we had just about touched the surface. And now, we were already waiting for something ‘else’ to happen that would resolve the issue. The introspection decimated my fears and gave me the courage to move forward.

The emptiness I felt, then, was for many reasons. Primary among them was the fact that #MeToo was a media movement and an urban phenomenon. And that it belonged to the upper crust, whereas the most disempowered, excluded and disadvantaged among the women of India are nowhere close to having the access that we have. Neither did the statistics reveal that the #MeToo movement has had an impact. The number of women molested, abused and raped in India kept on rising consistently thereafter. It was the same after Bhanwari, Nirbhaya, Asifa, after Unnao. The anger, the outrage, the vigils, they peter out and an oppressive system knows that well.

Also, I would not have made this film if I wasn’t able to draw from the well of my personal experiences. When I said yes to directing the film, the one condition I put was that I would not be a part of it. I wanted to remain objective in my approach – as far as it was possible. Another advantage of my having been a part of the movement was that all the survivors I interviewed, especially Bhanwari Devi, Asifa’s parents, Sabita Lahkar, Simran Kaur Suri, Saloni Chopra, and Mandana Karimi, felt comfortable and unhesitant. In fact, Bhanwari Devi took me to task for having taken 20 years to talk about what had happened to me. She reprimanded me and scolded me, saying that she had not waited a single day – she was at the police station the next morning.

We wrongly believe that we, who have access, are greatly empowered, because the courage of a Bhanwari and a Bant is way beyond what we can ever imagine to have! All the other interviewees, too, I could sense while making the film, wanted that #SHOUT be made – they were encouraging and stepped out of their way to help us.  

Bollywood cops a lot of blame for the way we treat women. Do you agree that our films are to blame? Or is Bollywood a favourite whipping boy.

Bollywood is to blame to some extent. Yet, the question will be a conundrum because it is more complex than what can be taken at face value. In our film, Tara Kaushal, author of Why Men Rape, asks a pertinent question. “Stalking is akin to love for some men, whereas for women who are stalked, it is harassment. So, how will the two paradigms meet?” Do we blame Bollywood for making stalking an expression of love, or do we blame society for Bollywood adopting stalking from it. We can blame films for all the evil in society, but where does that take us? It’s nothing more or less than a mother saying that her son is a paragon of virtue and it’s his friends who have spoiled him, or it is the movies, social media, or whatever else he is under the influence of. Fact is that it is important for women to feel safe at home and in public spaces, irrespective of what they wear. Their ownership of their bodies is non-negotiable.

I don’t believe it is the item number, so to say, which is wrong. Our classical culture and folklore is full of provocative expression through art, dance, theatre and music, and all of us enjoy the performances as viewers and as actors. It is every man and woman’s right to dress the way he and she wants to, and feel beautiful, be admired and appreciated. It is the angle of the camera and the lens through which the item number is presented to audiences, the positioning, in the most unesthetic and distorted ways, that must change.

Here, I’d like to add that the executive producer of #SHOUT, Sandra de Castro Buffington, is also the co-producer of Nina Menke’s film Brainwashed – another film from Hollywood that is a must-watch, because it shows, historically, how the camera has objectified women and thereby created a perception, over several decades of the existence of cinema, which is not at all justifiable.

Having said all of the above, I would add that Bollywood does need to be careful of what it promotes as acceptable and appropriate behaviour. All the creative folk in the industry need to be sensitised to the impact they have on lives and livelihoods – also the damage they can do consciously and unconsciously. But who is studying behavioural science here, and who cares to impart the knowledge? Everyone is too busy making money to be bothered about how the decisions taken are harming the world, and that’s where the debate rests for now, unfortunately.

One startling statistic that is referred to in the film pertains to the #MeToo campaign – that only 159 cases actually came up despite all the uproar. Would you say that the movement failed? Or was it good enough to bring attention to something that was not spoken of?

We can’t say that the movement didn’t make a difference, in the sense that the implementation of POSH [Prevention of Sexual Harassment] was made mandatory at all places of work, and committees were constituted, but that is where it also ended. The #MeToo movement brought attention to something that was difficult to speak about. Unfortunately, it lasted for too short a while. Ironically, the silence has grown ever since instead of the other way around. Before the movement could go further from urban to rural India, it was over.

I shudder to think what the girls who were abused by Sajid Khan, and had dared to speak out against him during the movement, go through when they watch him on national television. But then, we have to ask the following questions: Who took the decision to make him a participant in the popular show? Did it not cross their mind that what they are doing is ill intended, that a wrong precedent is being set, that it is immoral, sexist and misogynistic?

The answer to all the questions is also clear: of course they knew it. And, that is exactly why they did it. They wanted to be sensational, controversial. They wanted the feminist’s and activist’s outrage to flood social media. They could have made Sajid Khan apologise before he was brought to the house, but they didn’t do it because that would have made neither the viewer, nor for that matter Bollywood happy.

The symbiotic relationship between the content creator and the viewer (especially the male) demanded that Sajid Khan be repositioned strategically in the most crude and brazen manner so that it would result in the outrage required to capture eyeballs. How will women find the courage to speak out against injustice in the future when the whitewashing of Sajid Khan and the feting of the many predators, the editors and writers, at lit fests is the overarching reality they face?

Watching Shout, I could not help wondering if women themselves failed the #MeToo campaign. And that it was also misused to settle personal scores.

I was alert to the reactions of those around me during the movement. One among the many significant things that happened was that all my male friends disappeared – almost immediately. Except for Mahesh Bhatt, who called me and spoke on my behalf right away, Amit Khanna, who reached out, Suryaveer Singh Bhullar, along with his wife Aroona Bhat, Salim Asgarally, my nephew Shiv Bhalla and Kishore Velankar, all the other ‘men’ I knew became incommunicado. Some did make their wives and girlfriends call me to offer their support, which was amusing because the conversations were inquisitorial to my inner space. But by and large everyone else went silent on me.

Among my girlfriends, Ritu Bajaj, in Mumbai, and Ginger, who flew down from Punjab to be with me, and my niece Devki, were my rocks. But there were other girlfriends who said things like, ‘Oh, so this is a nice way to make a comeback to the scene.’ Another girlfriend, an ex-colleague who met me at a coffee shop where I was with some friends, said, ‘By the way, the joke in the industry going around is that the men are now greeting each other with, “#YouToo!” when they meet each other.’ And then, she burst into peals of laughter. These experiences made me realise how far we were from the goalpost. How much longer the struggle was going to take.

To answer your question about women using it as a tool to get after men for personal vendetta, well, there are instances and I, for one, would not deny it. Men face abuse too. The battle we are fighting is against patriarchy and feudalism, against discrimination and exclusion, which hurt both men and women.

Another aspect that comes across tellingly is how women’s bodies become playgrounds for scoring political and religious points. Even as you were putting the final cut together, there was the shameful Bilkis Bano episode playing out.

The perpetrators were released to appease a section of voters prior to the elections in Gujarat. Deal with it! It tells us clearly where we are in the discourse. Bilkis Bano, a woman who belongs to the minority community, fears for her life after the release of the men. The perpetrators roam free. They are celebrated as heroes by a section of one community, which harbours hate for another because our politics has polarised and divided the people of India to this extent – we have become inhuman, barbaric and medieval. That explains it all.

More than a couple of interviewees mention that in the new generation of women we have hope of the tide turning. That every generation builds on the battles the previous generation fought.

Yes, that’s right. As I enter the sixtieth year of my life in 2023, I realise that many of the battles fought by us have given courage to the new generations of women. I also understand that many of the battles fought by our mothers is why we, as a generation of women, could leap ahead from where we were stationed previously. But we must not ignore the roadblocks that the new generation of women will also face as so did we.

The economic, religious and caste inequalities, disadvantages and the exclusion of many of our fellow women will make progress much harder for those of us who are at the frontlines of this battle if there isn’t a dramatic change that takes place immediately. Women of the present generation have to become a part of politics, of administration, of policy and decision making – they must enter the boardrooms and take positions of power in greater numbers to bring about the desired change.

If there is one takeaway from making the film that you were asked to pinpoint, what would that be?

The one takeaway would be that we need to invest in our allies as we go forward. There are so many men who supported and encouraged us during the making of this film. In our immediate circumference, two among the three producers are men, Siddharth and Rahul, the DOP Shanti Bhushan Roy, Sound Supervisor Bishwadeep Dipak Chatterjee, Sound Designer Mohandas VP, and several other members of the crew, who have stood by us are men. I don’t think Gayatri, Puloma and I, the women in the team, could’ve asked for anything more.

Gayatri with the sound director. Photo Courtesy: Vinta Nanda

We have had arguments, discussions, even disagreements with the men, which even led to long spells of cold wars between us, but not for once did anyone impose his will upon us. They understood that this was a film about us, about something we felt more deeply about, and were as often surprised by what they learnt along the way as we were.

My own experience during the #MeToo movement makes me aware that against every detractor, I have at least ten allies in both men and women who I can name. While making the film, the experience was the same. There are more men who wish for change to take place than there are those who don’t. And it is now time for us to tap into this resource.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Categories
Contents

Borderless, May 2023

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Dancing in May? … Click here to read.

Translations

Aparichita by Tagore has been translated from Bengali as The Stranger by Aruna Chakravarti. Click here to read.

The Kabbadi Player, a short story by the late Nadir Ali, has been translated from Punjabi by Amna Ali. Click here to read.

Carnival Time by Masud Khan has been translated from the Bengali poem by Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Desolation, a poem by Munir Momin, has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Loneliness, a poem, has been translated from Korean to English by the poet himself, Ihlwha Choi. Click here to read

Jonmodiner Gaan or Birthday Song by Tagore has been translated by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Conversations

A conversation with Mitra Phukan about her latest novel, What Will People Say? A Novel along with a brief introduction to the book. Click here to read.

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri converses with Prerna Gill on her poetry and her new book of poetry, Meanwhile. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Michael Burch, Lakshmi Kannan, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Shahriyer Hossain Shetu, Peter Cashorali, K.V. Raghupathi, Wilda Morris, Ashok Suri, William Miller, Khayma Balakrishnan, Md Mujib Ullah, Urmi Chakravorty, Sreekanth Kopuri, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In What I Thought I Knew About India When I was Young, Rhys Hughes travels back to his childhood with a soupçon of humour. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

A Towering Inferno, A Girl-next-door & the Big City

Ratnottama Sengupta writes of actress Jaya Bachchan recounting her first day on the sets of Satyajit Ray’s Mahanagar. Click here to read.

Kissed on Kangaroo Island

Meredith Stephens travels with her camera and her narrative to capture the flora and fauna of the island. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In The Reader, Devraj Singh Kalsi revisits his experiences at school. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In Making Chop Suey in South Carolina, Suzanne Kamata recaptures a flavour from her past. Click here to read.

Essays

Rabindranath’s Monsoonal Music

Professor Fakrul Alam brings to us Tagore songs in translation and in discussion on the season that follows the scorching heat of summer months. Click here to read.

A Night Hike in Nepal

Ravi Shankar hikes uphill in Nepal on a wet and rainy night along with leeches and water buffaloes. Click here to read.

Moving Images of Tagore

Ratnottama Sengupta talks of Tagore and cinema. Click here to read.

Stories

Threads

Julian Gallo explores addiction. Click here to read.

The Whirlpool

Abdullah Rayhan takes us back to a village in Bangladesh to give a poignant story about a young boy who dreamt of hunting. Click here to read.

Look but with Love

Sreelekha Chatterjee writes a story set in the world of media. Click here to read.

The Mysterious Murder of Adamov Plut

A globe-trotting murder mystery by Paul Mirabile, a sequel to his last month’s story, ‘The Book Hunter’. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Aruna Chakravarti’s Daughter’s of Jorasanko describing the last birthday celebration of Tagore. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Bhubaneswar@75 – Perspectives, edited by Bhaskar Parichha/ Charudutta Panigrahi. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Meenakshi Malhotra revisits Tagore’s Farewell Song, translated from Bengali by Radha Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Somdatta Mandal reviews KR Meera’s Jezebel translated from Malayalam by Abhirami Girija Sriram and K. S. Bijukumar. Click here to read.

Lakshmi Kannan has reviewed Jaydeep Sarangi’s collection of poems, letters in lower case. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Journey After Midnight – A Punjabi Life: From India to Canada by Ujjal Dosanjh. Click here to read.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International