November 9, 2024
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What acts as an impetus for writing a piece and what was it for the one in this collection?
The impetus varies depending on the subject. For this piece I wanted to write in a style and form that brought freshness to the reading experience. I wanted to challenge myself as a writer to create something unique, edgy, something that readers can feel as well as know. My writing has been about embodying the minority voice and heritage, imbuing it with agency and richness. Storytelling tends to focus on dominant groups that are easy to identify with what being ‘Indian’ or being ‘Australian’ means. Only 4% of Australian Indians identify as Anglo-Indian though the figure is very likely to be much higher. I wanted to write about the dispossession of culture and home.


I loved the title of your story, ‘A Chutney Alphabet of Anglo-Indian Spells’ ! Please throw light on its significance from your perspective.
Well, it tells the story alphabetically, through the lens of language which shapes our identity. The Anglo-Indian community, maintains English as its “mother tongue” or community language, having absorbed a process of shift to English dating back to the 18th century. With independence this has been shamed and stigmatised as assimilation and colonisation, with pressure to speak Hindi or a regional language such as Marathi or Konkani; yet our English is also an organic and native use of language that holds validity and culture for my community. English has caused divisions, oppression, but it’s also been a bridge and it is the parlance of diaspora. My second poetry collection Vishvarūpa, took a Sanskrit word for its title, so I have also explored the historical loss of language and religion, within my community.


How do you think the structure of your piece impacts the reader?
The short paragraphs might suggest the interruptions that migration causes. I think the story invites an active reading and a deep reading. It is asking the reader to think about the gaps and the voice which holds nostalgia, resilience and irony. These gaps reflect lacunae in history, separation from country, even the erasures of the Indian constitution. There is humour, also pain, absurdity and joy. The trauma does not define the speaker, but while it’s present in the words, the trauma is lived, remembered and recorded. Writing allows us to free ourselves from the past and to free our community from stereotypes.

Do you think your being a poet equips you to use language very deftly?
Poetry teaches me to focus on words and their resonance, which is different to prose structure. So, my primary relationship is with language. My journey as a writer might be measured by books as milestones, (or prizes, and grants I’ve been awarded,) but more deeply my real journey is about being dedicated to developing my skills. As writers we are always failing to some extent, not only because of distractions and interruptions; some things exist beyond language, or meaning, or they may not have precedents. What I do as a writer is actually quite simple and ordinary. My job is to work with words, slowly and painstakingly and not to be distracted by the noise of the outside world.

Which book is your an ‘all-time favourite’?
I love the gothic, ‘outsider’ themes, and the structure of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, I’ve read so many fine, powerful, haunting books, and Titsi Dangaremba’s Nervous Conditions is up there.

As one grows, one reflects on the life led thus far. With hindsight, one often revises one’s opinion on a particular aspect. What would be the TWO things that you have done so?
In terms of writing, I’ve learned to take my time and not to rush, even though mostly the industry wants us to work to its schedule, and according to its purposes. The second thing I’ve learned is that ambiguity can be a space of playfulness, renewal and joy.


You were part of the editorial team for the anthology of Contemporary Asian Australian Poets. That would have been an ‘experience of a lifetime’. How do you feel about being part of this anthology and what impact will this book have on its readers?
It means so much to be part of the Australian Indian community through the sharing of our stories. For centuries, Western imperialism has exploited our country and dispossessed our people, then imposed racist barriers to their movement, yet colonial thinking makes the global north feel entitled to speak for us, even to curate our stories and our voices. I’m really pleased and proud of owning my ‘Anglo Indian-ness’ both through my novel, Daisy & Woolf and with this story, and with my author bios for many years. I wish my parents were alive, especially my father. As a minority, a hybrid, it takes longer to do the work that I’ve had to do to restore and share what ‘Anglo Indian’ means for us. There has been dispossession, displacement from country, legally enforced loss of status, migration, stigma, but also the richness of language, hybridity and our pride. We are a people with dignity, culture, class and love. Let’s not forget that Australia had
one of the most restrictive immigration policies towards Indians, indeed all South Asians, in the Commonwealth, because it was based on appearance as well as genealogy. From 1957 to 1964 immigrants had to satisfy the Australian immigration officer at interview that they were 75% European both in appearance and in origin. I’m talking about The White Australia Policy. These values remain largely ingrained, though often invisible in the public domain and within institutions responsible for education curriculums.
The stories in Growing Up Indian in Australia are dedicated to our ancestors and our families; many did not have the agency to author their own stories. Readers will find vivid, authentic, contingent yet joyful worlds here; this book will be foundational for our children, for young Indian Australians, and emerging Indian Australian writers.

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