JOIN USFrom broken to beautiful
There’s a quiet that seeps in when you speak with Anukrti Upadhyay. A stillness that permeates her words. Anukrti writes about India in vivid, kaleidoscopic colours — iridescent images of rural India that merge with its seething modernity. From her debut Bhaunri to Daura, and now the most recent English book, Kintsugi, Anukrti has been weaving understated magic.
Anukrti speaks about writing, pain and brokenness, transformation, kindness, and the extraordinary treasures of everyday existence.
Kintsugi is the art of mending all that is broken with gold. This year and the last — a lot of things appear broken to us. How do we transform our brokenness and find the lacquer that holds the pieces together?
Breaking and mending — the cycle of healing, like nature’s cycles, is organic. It happens. We just need to get out of our own way most of the time to let it run its course and bring forth the transformation that healing entails. That, as we all know, is easier said than done. We are our biggest obstacles; we are our safest bridges.
A writer is often caught wondering if they are good enough. Self-doubt plagues all of us... even those who are not writers. How do you handle that self-doubt, if you feel that?
Reading all the brilliant works already written, how can one not wonder whether one’s writing has any meaning, is meagre, and puny as it is?
But mostly, writing is not something that one can choose not to do. I write because I have to, and I try to put self-doubt aside while writing and reading what I write only for the specific purpose of rewriting or editing.
“In a world in which you can be anything, be kind.” What’s kindness to you? How would you practice being kind?
Kindness is to soothe where needed. It is also to not hurt or harm, to accept and not force. Ultimately kindness is to try to inhabit other lives, other-selves. I try to do it through imagination and through not being afraid to offer help. A lot of times, unkindness is just fear of rejection or harm.
Tell us about the joys of everyday life. What moves you — the tiny things that give you sustenance?
Everything moves me. Birds, trees, rain, sunset, moon, night. The toad I encounter in the soft mould in a planter on my balcony, the swallows nesting under the windows, the child picking up leaves and seed-pods with fresh wonder in his eyes — aren’t they all moving?
And Mao, my cat, with her wilfulness, her waywardness, and unashamed seeking and wide-eyed wariness, she moves me a lot. They connect me to bigger networks of life. They sustain me.
In Kintsugi, you introduced an LGBTQ character. Indian authors rarely write on gender or diversity or inclusiveness — in a world that wants everyone to be the same, what made you break the mould here?
I did not make the conscious choice to write an LGBTQ character. The dynamic emerged as the story progressed, but I chose not to exclude it, not to force the story in another direction, for to force the course of a story could destroy it, just as to force the course of an individual to conform mores could destroy them. I don’t believe in either.
Last year brought us closer to life, paradoxically, while taking so much away from it. What’s the biggest learning you could take, if any, from the havoc of this pandemic?
That when mercilessly slashed and denuded of flowering branches, the tree grows back so long as its core is intact. That’s my learning. Keep yourself safe inside you; rest shall pass.
If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be? What would that letter be?
To choose freely and fulsomely, not be afraid of people, sun, wind, and societal disapprobation.
What does success in life look like to you, Anukrti? And failure? Is there a difference?
I don’t know what success looks like, but failure is to not pick up and soothe a crying child or a hurt animal.
What books would you want us to read, apart from your own, of course?
So many. I don’t know where to begin. Read variedly, diversely. Read translated works from all over the world, from under-represented countries, classes, people. Read about them so they can survive.
Don’t read books you are comfortable with, don’t choose just on the grounds of familiarity or fashion, choose boldly, and read something that no one recommends.
And read books written by writers of your own country. You’ll be surprised by the variety and virtuosity. But above all — just read.