South Asia’s Literary Lights

There is an undeniable x-factor about the evolving wave of South Asian writing that has captured the imagination of readers both at home and overseas.  Priya Tuli looks at the ties that bind of their literary endeavors.

To name just a few: Salman Rushdie. Vikram Seth. Pico Iyer. Arundhati Roy. Bapsi Sidhwa. Vikram Chandra. Jhumpa Lahiri. Amitav Ghosh. Shashi Tharoor. Upamanyu Chatterjee. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. Hanif Kureishi. Taslima Nasrin. Michael Ondaatje. Qurratulain Hyder. Shauna Singh Baldwin.

A more complete listing would run to several pages. But most book lovers would be familiar with some, if not all, of these literary lights and their substantial contribution to our bookshelves.  Some are based in their country of origin, others part of the great Indian diaspora.

What is it that weaves such a compelling tale, and commands a steadily expanding readership? For one, many South Asians have grown up reading and speaking English, more as mother-tongue than second language. Perhaps part of the magic is the post-colonial familiarity with English and the facility to take liberties with the language.

Perhaps it is the growing conviction that our stories are as good as anyone else’s, and far more complex and multi-layered. And perhaps it’s just that it is time; South Asian writing has finally established a varied and authentic “voice”, carving for itself a considerable niche in the international literary firmament.

Most of these writers are urbane, erudite and aware, and global in their outlook, another reason why their appeal is both universal and national. That said, being bilingual and multicultural poses its own problems. When your writing is rooted in the ethos of the subcontinent, though you might think in English, there is static interference at a cellular level from the “real”, non-English mother-tongue.

India itself has 24 regional languages, not to mention countless local dialects. It’s those typically Asian idioms and turns of phrase, the nuances, the implicit thread that runs through each language, that most stubbornly resist satisfactory translation.

Then again, who are the intended readers, and what is relevant to them? What might be a familiar event, experience or setting in the South Asian context could be entirely bewildering to a reader unfamiliar with the subcontinent. How much “dumbing down” is required? How much explanation is too much, or too little? None of these considerations are valid any longer. The new mantra resonates to: “I am who I am, and what I have to say is important and has a place out there.” A fact that is amply born out by the greater awareness of South Asian writing over the last several years.

What has evolved is a new genre, a different sensibility, one that is influenced by a collective DNA steeped in an ancient civilization. Rooted in culture and tradition, yet consummately socked into current reality. This departure from formula fiction set in the West, previously a large part of our staple reading list, provides South Asian readers with identifiable elements of home, while to the non-Asian reader, perhaps an accessible window to an unfamiliar but increasingly prominent geographic and literary presence.

What is most surprising is not that South Asian writing exploded onto the literary firmament in a syncopated series of brilliant bursts, but that it took so long. Now is unquestionably the time to be a writer from the subcontinent. The question then is: who’s going to write the next great South Asian novel?

Home