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Free Malaysia Today
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Free Malaysia Today
Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq
Indian author Banu Mushtaq won the coveted literature prize for her collection of 12 short stories titled 'Heart Lamp'. (AFP pic) HASSAN : All writers draw on their experience, whether consciously or not, says Indian author Banu Mushtaq – including the titular tale of attempted self-immolation in her International Booker Prize-winning short story collection. Mushtaq, who won the coveted literature prize as the first author writing in Kannada – an Indian regional language – said the author's responsibility is to reflect the truth. 'You cannot simply write describing a rose,' said the 77-year-old, who is also a lawyer and activist. 'You cannot say it has got such a fragrance, such petals, such colour. You have to write about the thorns also. It is your responsibility, and you have to do it.' Her book 'Heart Lamp', a collection of 12 powerful short stories, is also her first book translated into English, with the prize shared with her translator Deepa Bhasthi. Critics praised the collection for its dry and gentle humour, and its searing commentary on the patriarchy, caste and religion. Mushtaq has carved an alternative path in life, challenging societal restrictions and perceptions. As a young girl worried about her future, she said she started writing to improve her 'chances of marriage'. Born into a Muslim family in 1948, she studied in Kannada, which is spoken mostly in India's southern Karnataka state by around 43 million people, rather than Urdu, the language of Islamic texts in India and which most Muslim girls learnt. She attended college, and worked as a journalist and also as a high school teacher. 'Confused' But after marrying for love, Mushtaq found her life constricted. 'I was not allowed to have any intellectual activities. I was not allowed to write,' she said. 'I was in that vacuum. That harmed me.' She recounted how as a young mother aged around 27 with possible postpartum depression, and ground down by domestic life, had doused petrol on herself and on the 'spur of a moment' readied to set herself on fire. Her husband rushed to her with their three-month-old daughter. 'He took the baby and put her on my feet, and he drew my attention to her and he hugged me, and he stopped me,' Mushtaq told AFP. The experience is nearly mirrored in her book – in its case, the protagonist is stopped by her daughter. 'People get confused that it might be my life,' the writer said. Explaining that while not her exact story, 'consciously or subconsciously, something of the author, it reflects in her or his writing'. Books line the walls in Mushtaq's home, in the small southern Indian town of Hassan. Her many awards and certificates – including a replica of the Booker prize she won in London in May – are also on display. She joked that she was born to write – at least that is what a Hindu astrological birth chart said about her future. 'I don't know how it was there, but I have seen the birth chart,' Mushtaq said with a laugh, speaking in English. The award has changed her life 'in a positive way', she added, while noting the fame has been a little overwhelming. 'I am not against the people, I love people,' she said referring to the stream of visitors she gets to her home. 'But with this, a lot of prominence is given to me, and I don't have any time for writing. I feel something odd… Writing gives me a lot of pleasure, a lot of relief.' 'Patriarchy everywhere' Mushtaq's body of work spans six short story collections, an essay collection and poetry. The stories in 'Heart Lamp' were chosen from the six short story collections, dating back to 1990. The Booker jury hailed her characters – from spirited grandmothers to bumbling religious clerics – as 'astonishing portraits of survival and resilience'. The stories portray Muslim women going through terrible experiences, including domestic violence, the death of children and extramarital affairs. Mushtaq said that while the main characters in her books are all Muslim women, the issues are universal. 'They (women) suffer this type of suppression and this type of exploitation, this type of patriarchy everywhere,' she said. 'A woman is a woman, all over the world.' While accepting that even the people for whom she writes may not like her work, Mushtaq said she remained dedicated to providing wider truths. 'I have to say what is necessary for the society,' she said. 'The writer is always pro-people… With the people, and for the people.'
The Guardian
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Malala and Kiran faced violence, threats and shame. Now their fathers want ‘all men to stand with women'
The day Ranjit's daughter was born, he distributed sweets to the entire village – not just because he was thrilled to be a father for the first time, but because he was father to a girl. 'God heard my heart and granted my wish,' he says. His devotion to baby Kiran* was immediate and unshakeable. He would rush home from his work in the fields to spend time caring for her. Millions of fathers around the world will relate to the joy Ranjit felt, but in deeply patriarchal rural India publicly celebrating the arrival of a girl is an unusual, even defiant, act. Ranjit's love for and faith in Kiran is captured in the film To Kill A Tiger, which follows the poor rice farmer as he pursues justice for his daughter after she was gang-raped aged 13. Kiran is determined to see her attackers in court and Ranjit is determined to support her. Quietly but doggedly, he refuses to give up even in the face of threats and ostracism from his community. He credits Kiran and his wife, Jaganti, for giving him the strength to keep going. After a screening of the film this year in New York, Ranjit and Kiran were joined by another supporter of an extraordinary daughter: Ziauddin Yousafzai, better known as Malala's father. The screening was used to launch #StandWithHer, a global gender-justice campaign to support survivors of sexual violence. At the time, Yousafzai spoke of Ranjit as 'a man all men should be proud of – the father all fathers should look up to'. On Sunday, a short film will be released of the two men in conversation, discussing fatherhood, courage and their commitment to seeing their daughters become independent young women despite the social and political barriers they face. Nisha Pahuja, To Kill A Tiger's director and founder of #StandWithHer, says the film marks the start of a wider drive to invite men and boys to discuss the ways patriarchy limits both sexes. 'Power comes at a cost – not just to women and girls, but also, to men and boys,' says Pahuja. 'There is of course no denying the obvious, material benefits of this power imbalance or the violence it has permitted, but there's also no denying the suffering of men and boys. 'It's so clear today that men and boys are struggling to define themselves. I do feel Zia and Ranjit are powerful, unapologetic role models here.' Yousafzai describes how Malala was named after a 19th-century Afghan heroine 'because there was power in this name'. He says he knew it would suit her. 'In my mind, I associated a girl with strength, and I thought if I had a daughter she will be strong; she will have her own voice and she will be known by her name.' Yousafzai was adamant his daughter would be educated – something his own mother and five sisters had been denied. 'Education was the front door and it had to stay open,' he tells Ranjit. He recalls how he used to invite Malala to join discussions and debates with friends at home because he recognised that she had a great mind and always had something to contribute. Malala, he says, was not just a daughter but a 'comrade and a friend', so when, in 2012, she was shot in the head by the Taliban for standing up for her right to go to school, losing her was unthinkable. When she survived the attack and became a global advocate for education, Yousafzai campaigned alongside her. They are 'one soul in two bodies', he says. His nickname for her, Jaani, means soulmate. After Kiran was assaulted, Ranjit was expected to marry her off to one of her attackers – a common response to sexual violence that insists women and girls can only rid themselves of shame by becoming wives. Ranjit and Kiran refused to accept that shame and instead placed it squarely on the perpetrators. 'A real, caring father puts his daughter first,' he says. Yousafzai says he sees Malala in Kiran. 'It is as if Malala appears in front of me. Her voice will be a step against extremism, a step against violence; it already is.' The campaign, he adds, will spread the message that men should be allies, using their privilege to challenge long-held beliefs. 'Every father, every brother: all men must stand with women.' Resistance and change start at home, he says. 'This institution of the family is an agent of change, an informal one … there's no force more powerful than the family.' Ranjit agrees. 'We can convince men; it needs to enter their minds. As more and more people come together, I feel it will definitely have an impact on men and boys.' * Kiran is a pseudonym
Arab News
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Arab News
Petals and thorns: India's Booker prize author Banu Mushtaq
HASSAN, India: All writers draw on their experience, whether consciously or not, says Indian author Banu Mushtaq — including the titular tale of attempted self-immolation in her International Booker Prize-winning short story collection. Mushtaq, who won the coveted literature prize as the first author writing in Kannada — an Indian regional language — said the author's responsibility is to reflect the truth. 'You cannot simply write describing a rose,' said the 77-year-old, who is also a lawyer and activist. 'You cannot say it has got such a fragrance, such petals, such color. You have to write about the thorns also. It is your responsibility, and you have to do it.' Her book 'Heart Lamp,' a collection of 12 powerful short stories, is also her first book translated into English, with the prize shared with her translator Deepa Bhasthi. Critics praised the collection for its dry and gentle humor, and its searing commentary on the patriarchy, caste and religion. Mushtaq has carved an alternative path in life, challenging societal restrictions and perceptions. As a young girl worried about her future, she said she started writing to improve her 'chances of marriage.' Born into a Muslim family in 1948, she studied in Kannada, which is spoken mostly in India's southern Karnataka state by around 43 million people, rather than Urdu, the language of Islamic texts in India and which most Muslim girls learnt. She attended college, and worked as a journalist and also as a high school teacher. Constricted life But after marrying for love, Mushtaq found her life constricted. 'I was not allowed to have any intellectual activities. I was not allowed to write,' she said. 'I was in that vacuum. That harmed me.' She recounted how as a young mother aged around 27 with possible postpartum depression, and ground down by domestic life, had doused petrol on herself and on the 'spur of a moment' readied to set herself on fire. Her husband rushed to her with their three-month-old daughter. 'He took the baby and put her on my feet, and he drew my attention to her and he hugged me, and he stopped me,' Mushtaq told AFP. The experience is nearly mirrored in her book — in its case, the protagonist is stopped by her daughter. 'People get confused that it might be my life,' the writer said. Explaining that while not her exact story, 'consciously or subconsciously, something of the author, it reflects in her or his writing.' Books line the walls in Mushtaq's home, in the small southern Indian town of Hassan. Her many awards and certificates — including a replica of the Booker prize she won in London in May — are also on display. She joked that she was born to write — at least that is what a Hindu astrological birth chart said about her future. 'I don't know how it was there, but I have seen the birth chart,' Mushtaq said with a laugh, speaking in English. The award has changed her life 'in a positive way,' she added, while noting the fame has been a little overwhelming. 'I am not against the people, I love people,' she said referring to the stream of visitors she gets to her home. 'But with this, a lot of prominence is given to me, and I don't have any time for writing. I feel something odd... Writing gives me a lot of pleasure, a lot of relief.' 'The writer is always pro-people' Mushtaq's body of work spans six short story collections, an essay collection and poetry. The stories in 'Heart Lamp' were chosen from the six short story collections, dating back to 1990. The Booker jury hailed her characters — from spirited grandmothers to bumbling religious clerics — as 'astonishing portraits of survival and resilience.' The stories portray Muslim women going through terrible experiences, including domestic violence, the death of children and extramarital affairs. Mushtaq said that while the main characters in her books are all Muslim women, the issues are universal. 'They (women) suffer this type of suppression and this type of exploitation, this type of patriarchy everywhere,' she said. 'A woman is a woman, all over the world.' While accepting that even the people for whom she writes may not like her work, Mushtaq said she remained dedicated to providing wider truths. 'I have to say what is necessary for the society,' she said. 'The writer is always pro-people... With the people, and for the people.'
RNZ News
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- RNZ News
Michelle Duff: Surplus Women
Weaving comedy and truth through her new collection of short stories, award-winning writer and journalist Michelle Duff's new novel Surplus Women explores power and patriarchy through women set in past, present and future Aotearoa. Hungry teenage girls, top detectives who forget to buy milk, frustrated archivists and duplicitous real estate agents, form a cast of 'surplus women'. Michelle won the 2023 Fiction Prize from the International Institute of Modern Letters, and is known for her feature writing for Stuff, New Zealand Geographic, The Guardian and The Sunday Times. She speaks with Susie Ferguson. Tags: To embed this content on your own webpage, cut and paste the following: See terms of use.
The Guardian
03-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Permission review – one rebellious woman's search for independence from Karachi to London
What does liberation mean? That's the dilemma at the heart of Hunia Chawla's play Permission. Set across continents, on rooftops in Karachi and in university halls in London, it follows Hanna (generously performed by Anisa Butt), a young Pakistani woman with a rebellious spirit, who moves across the world in search of independence. Chawla's writing is knotty and crackles with conflict. Hanna feels stifled by the patriarchal structures of her home town, which prevent her from walking the streets alone or dating without fear of being stopped by the police. But life in London brings with it its own confinements. Here, she meets Anushe (a straight-talking Rea Malhotra Mukhtyar), a third-year student who encourages her to join protests against the university's acceptance of funding from arms dealers – overlooking that speaking out carries far greater risks for someone like Hanna, who is living in the UK on a visa. Ultimately, neither Karachi nor London gives Hanna the full life of autonomy she craves. The comparisons between the cities feel nuanced and layered, showing how systems of control operate in different contexts. Behind the politics, though, is a platonic love story. While Hanna leaves for London, her best, friend Minza (also played by Mukhtyar) chooses to stay and study in Karachi, joining the Aurat Marches on the city's streets. Despite their distance and growing differences, their friendship lives on through phone calls. The pair's conversation bounces from teenage anxieties to bigger discussions about women's rights. Directed by Neetu Singh, it is in these scenes of dialogue where the play lands on its quietest, most intimate flashes. But their affection is not quite enough to wipe away the play's creative inconsistencies. It starts with Butt, as Hanna, performing one side of a conversation; immediately, Permission centres itself as a story about women's experiences. Later, though, the voices of other male characters begin to play through speakers. What emerges is a play that feels torn between competing impulses. There are other gripes, too. Audience interaction is thrown in a little too late to feel authentic, while a scene where Hanna is found smoking weed by her father appears to have no consequences. It's frustrating, as Permission has the beginnings of something truly unique, but too many decisions lack clear reasoning, leaving the play's bold ideas only partially realised. Permission is at Tara theatre, London, from 30 May until 7 June
