Where are the stories of women?

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni talks about her new novel where she explores how ordinary women viewed the Partition and why there is such a lack of female presence in the narratives of the freedom struggle

Visit any online book forum, book club or social media book group and generally throw in a question: ‘Suggest an engrossing fiction book that’s very Indian’. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s books, especially ‘Palace Of Illusions’, are certain to find a mention in the recommendations. A retelling of the Mahabharata in Draupadi’s voice, ‘Palace Of Illusions’ remained on bestseller lists for more than a year in India when first released. Her other work, ‘The Mistress of Spices’, was made into a movie by Gurinder Chadha and featured Aishwarya Rai and Dylan Mc Dermott in the lead roles. Divakaruni’s more recent novels, ‘The Last Queen’ and ‘The Forest Of Enchantments’, have received much critical acclaim. She is currently the McDavid professor of Creative Writing at the University of Houston, USA.

The author was in Jaipur to attend the recently concluded Jaipur Literature Festival (JLF) where her latest novel ‘Independence’ was launched. In ‘Independence’, she continues to do what she has been doing so far — centralising the experiences of women. Set during the partition of British India in 1947, it is, at its heart, a story of three sisters, their struggles and their bonds.

In an exclusive conversation with DHoS, she not only shares how literary extravaganzas like JLF allow her to meet readers who tell her how her books have had life-altering impacts on them, which further propels her “to go back wanting to write more and do a better job”, but also how hard it was for her to write ‘Independence’. Excerpts

What sort of research did you do for this book?

Everything from researching newspaper articles, and finding photographs to reading nonfiction writers of the time. But a big part of it was the stories my grandfather and my mother told me because they lived through that time. Those stories had so many feelings in them. They helped me recreate the times because I could understand what ordinary people went through, their dreams, and how terrifying the sudden riots and bloodshed on the borders were. And I have set this in Bengal — which is where my grandfather and my whole family are from — because that part hasn’t been written so much [when it comes to Partition-themed works], so it was essential to tell that story and I especially wanted to tell it now on India’s 75th anniversary because we must not forget the sacrifices that were made, the lives that were lost, and how people came together to create this nation.

What narrative shift(s) you’ve observed in Partition-themed works published immediately after the Partition and now, 75 years later?

I will start with the similarities. One part is that many people didn’t talk about the violence. I think the government banned the newspapers to avoid inciting more violence. I understand the reason but I was surprised that the narratives were largely repressed. Often it was the foreign press that wrote about the deaths, and the killings, and even got the photographs out.

Stories coming out now are mostly stories of the common people. While stories of political leaders, for example, Mahatma Gandhi, who has a presence in the book, are very inspiring, I particularly wanted to put one of my favourites in this book: Sarojini Naidu. Nobody writes about her. I think freedom narratives largely feature men. I wanted to correct that. Now we’re hearing about women. The stories of women written by women were almost non-existent. Or very few. I wanted my story to be a story about women written by a woman from a woman’s standpoint. Newer books are trying to do that because women were the greatest sufferers. Yes, men fought for independence but women suffered hugely — they were the victims of it. And we must not forget it. We must honour and respect that.

How different are the Partition stories written by men?

There are always exceptions. But men are seeing women’s stories from the outside. They’re seeing the larger picture in which, to them, women don’t play such a big part. They don’t seem to be as important. But women centralise that experience. The story of the mothers, the sisters, the wives, the little girls — all these people who were faced with so much violence... only a few of them were able to stand up and fight, first against the British, then against their own people who turned on them. That’s such an important story to be told: How did women survive? Where did women find the strength to survive after terrible things were done to them? How do you pick up pieces of your life and go on? Men don’t have that anger.

It’s also a very important social story, which is relevant even today because unfortunately, violence against women goes on, so we need to honour the victims and not shame them. I think men writers may not understand that as well, but we, as women, we’ve felt it, we have been victim-shamed in so many ways. For example, there’s a scene in ‘Independence’ where one of the main characters is attacked. The village acknowledges that she was wronged, but she also becomes untouchable to them. We’ve been seeing that from the time of Sita, which I’ve also written about. How will this woman go on in life if we victim-shame her? I think women can understand that aspect in a much better way.

Which Partition-themed books would you recommend people to read for a deeper, gendered understanding?

I’ll suggest three. All fiction. First: ‘Tomb of Sand’ by Geetanjali Shree. It’s beautifully written. And she has managed to put humour in it. I am always very admiring of writers who can put humour into something traumatic. Second is Khushwant Singh’s ‘Train to Pakistan’ — it’s such a strong book even though it’s written from a male viewpoint. I learned so much as a writer when I read that book. It must have taken a lot of courage to write that book.

The third is not exactly about Partition. It’s about politics and the role of women and this is the book I’ve learned so much from as well. It’s a book by Rabindranath Tagore: ‘The Home and the World’. He’s writing not about Partition but about violence in Bengal some years before the Partition when the British tried to separate Bengal into two: the Breaking of Bengal, as they called it. Ghôre Bahire, in Bengali, is set in that period. It deals with Hindu-Muslim violence, and what role can women play in independence. A lot of that resonated with me when I was writing my book.

In a way, the three sisters mirror the three nations that British India gets divided into after independence. Was it your intention to portray the messy relationship between the sisters and between the nations, which gets reflected subliminally?

That’s an interesting reading of the book. No, it was not intentional. That’s one of the magical things about writing — a lot of things are happening subconsciously. At least for me as a writer, it is not like I am purposely doing it. Many book reviewers have been comparing this novel to ‘Little Women’ and actually, that was never in my mind. And, yes, there are similarities, so maybe subconsciously that was in my mind.

Though the book is on freedom, it doesn’t include masculine micro-narratives one’s attuned to finding on this subject. Was this on purpose?

Yes. I wanted this to be a women-centred book. Of course, there are men, and they’re important, too, and there are scenes of violence true to what really happened. But my focus in writing has always been on women because I feel even now, although more stories are being told, not enough are being narrated by women. If you look back on the history of literature, men have been telling stories for so long. Even women’s. So, it’s my project, you could call it, to put women at the centre of the stories.

How difficult was it to not only explore the gendered aspect of the trauma of Partition but also acknowledge the fact that for these women, there did exist ambitions and desires of their own?

It was difficult to write this but I wanted to bring them together. Because, for me, the whole idea was to think about what independence meant to them. Both my publishers in India and the US were like “Let’s give it a nice, big title”. I said no; the title of this book has to be ‘Independence’ because it’s the double meaning of that word that’s working in the lives of these sisters. Yes, the independence of the country means something to them but they have their own lives, and their own things going on and they need to be independent to follow their dreams. How do these two ideas come together? A nation is always made up of people and people’s lives are always made up of their dreams and their goals and to a large extent their desire to be independent and free enough to follow these dreams.

The book ends with a moving postscript. Was it done to invite people to mull over the cost of independence?

I was panicking thinking about how I will end this book. And then one day, like this [snaps fingers] it came. I still remember, I was so shocked. Those words just came to me: I stopped whatever I was doing and wrote them down.

Today’s readers mustn’t forget what happened. And what happens when we forget history? We begin to repeat the mistakes of history. It is such an important thing right now — in the US but also in India, we’re forgetting our history and turning on each other. I wanted readers to remember that to become independent everybody had to fight together, side by side, no matter their religion because they all were Indian first.

Literature world over largely features ableist characters. What was it like to break away from that milieu and write a differently-abled character?

I am so glad you asked this because that’s also very important. Women’s bodies in Indian society are scrutinised for marriage — a process of choosing women by men and men’s families. In this light, Jamini’s character becomes central.

Because something happens to your body, society looks at you as if it’s your fault. Additionally, seeing people love her sisters and being compared to and called an inferior takes a toll on her, so she grows up with this complex of being an unwanted one. Jamini is, therefore, a very complicated character. I wanted to bring all that complexity into the narrative through her.

What are you working on next?

My next is going to be a first for me: nonfiction. It has a similar theme — a life of a woman that I think is inspiring — but she comes from an ordinary background. The book explores her achievements and what we can learn from her.

The interviewer is a Delhi-based independent journalist who writes about books, gender and sexuality. Find them on Instagram and Twitter as @writerly_life