Harmonising the traditional with modernity
An interview with Zeenat Mahal:
By Dilshan Boange
An imprisonment, an entrapment, or an enchantment, that doesn’t bare
its face at first, but kindles the heart to glimpse anew, the person
within the persona outwardly seen at the outset? How can the concept of
traditional arranged marriages be viewed and approached in today’s
context? The olden Asian concept and practice of ‘arranged marriages’
are stringently reassessed in today’s digitally modern world for their
worth and congruity, and generally perceived as a hindrance to love and
romance, being of course what is more ‘idealised’ in the face of
alluring and pervasive westernisation through Asian cultures. Or could
at times traditional approaches to marriage reveal opportunities that
open depths of love in ways that were not thought likely to?
Faiqa Mansab is a Pakistani born writer in Britain who brings these
conflicting views of how and what marriage ought to be and in fact
allowed to happen through her work as a writer of romance fiction.
Writing under the penname –Zeenat Mahal she has authored two novels
–Haveli and The Contact that bring into discussion within the stream of
love and romance, questions of what relationships mean to the people
involved in them from both societal and personal vistas. She is
currently reading for her degree of Master of Fine Arts (MFA) in
Creative Writing at the Kingston University in the UK. The following is
my interview of Zeenat on her work and the influences that shaped her as
writer and what she sees ahead in her path.
Mughal culture
Question: Before discussing your work as a novelist I’d like
to ask about your roots in Lahore. It’s a city reputed for its richness
of Mughal culture and affluence. My own very first ‘glimpse’ at Lahore,
I recall, came from Rudyard Kipling’s Kim when I was an early teen. How
has Lahore impacted your pulse as a writer? What were the main ‘Lahori’
influences and factors for you to develop your artistic outlooks?
Answer: Kim’s Lahore is still very much alive. Right opposite
Kim’s gun is the Lahore Museum, curated by Rudyard Kipling’s father.
It’s a rich landscape and it informs my writing and my thinking. From
the shrines of Sufi saints, to the food-streets, the red-light district
in old city, the universities, bazaars, there’s so much to tell.
One of the most intriguing elements of Lahore is the architecture.
Driving down the straight stretch of the Mall Road one can see
structural designs ranging from Mughal, to Colonial, to Contemporary, on
one road. It’s just amazing. I so enjoy writing about Lahore. There’s a
story waiting to be told at every step.
Q: Your first novel is titled Haveli. I checked the meaning of
this word online since being a Sri Lankan it’s not a word I’m familiar
with. ‘Haveli’ to my understanding refers to a palatial residence or a
certain type of religious place of Hindu worship? It has its roots in
Mughal and Punjabi culture I believe. Can you please give some insight
as to how the title reflects the story? Is there a metaphor or symbolism
intended?
Protagonist
A: All correct except the bit about it being a place of
worship. It isn’t. I grew up in a haveli. It was rather huge and I have
great memories of that place. The grandmother in the novella is based on
mine, so it seemed appropriate as a title at the time because I
associate the haveli with my grandmother. It was her home. And much as I
appreciate symbolism, imagery and other tools of writing, I didn’t
choose the title thinking about any of those. It just suits the story,
which is about a Nawab family. Houses are important, I feel. There’s so
much attached with them. Memories, history, a sense of belonging and
identity and all of these are important in the story of Haveli.
Q: What was the basis for you to develop the protagonist
Chandni, or ‘C’ as you have dubbed her in the story? She is an orphan
being brought up by her grandmother. Does she reflect a true to life
character you know of?
A: Honestly, Dilshan, when I started writing the story I had a
very different girl in mind, the serious minded, intellectual type.
She had no problems being called Chandni and I had every intention of
writing the novella in the third person. But when I started typing, this
really bratty voice just enchanted me and I couldn’t help but follow.
She was so witty and self-deprecating, sarcastic, fearless. I liked her
instantly, even though she made fun of the name I’d chosen for her.
And Chandni isn’t based on anyone in particular, unless you take into
account the influence of hundreds of heroines I know from the books I’ve
read and loved. One’s unconscious is always at play. She’s been likened
to Scarlett O’ Hara and to Elizabeth Bennett but flattered as I am, for
me, she’s her own person.
Q: Haveli is essentially a romance novel if I’m not mistaken.
What can you say about the relationship that develops between the
protagonist and Taimur? How much of it can you personally relate to in
the context of Pakistani culture?
A: The relationship between Taimur and Chandni is fiery and
antagonistic initially. Gradually she begins to see how well he
understands her, and that in no way endears him to her. The fireworks
don’t lessen. They’re equals and they know it. The truth is that
romances cannot be, and are not meant to be, realistic. Readers want
swash-buckling heroes and feisty heroines, but flawed and redeemable.
They might not be representative of what we see around us, but they’re
fun to read.
As for Pakistani culture, I want to be able to fairly reflect our
social and cultural mores and at the same time highlight the problems,
the issues which shouldn’t be issues in this day and age.
Since I’m writing romances these themes are covertly interwoven into
the narrative and do not take precedence over the story which is, like I
said, primarily romance. I try to poke fun at hypocrisies, or I use
satire and I don’t write weak willed women. I respect and tend to uphold
cultural expectations, as long as they’re not oppressive.
Emotional turbulence
Q: An online review by one Rubina Ramesh of Haveli speaks of
how the return of C’s father causes some considerable emotional
turbulence as conflicting emotions arise in the protagonist. How much of
this estranged father and daughter relationship do you explore in the
novel? How does it work in the overall scheme of a romance novel?
A: It was just how the story developed. I believe I’ve
articulated the issue as well as I could’ve within the parameters of the
romance genre.
Romance novels are mainly about the hero and heroine—it’s their story
and everything else is secondary. That doesn’t mean that sub-plots
aren’t important or can be inadequately portrayed. Perhaps, C.’s
obsession with Kunwar is a reflection of the desire to fill the void
that the absence of the father generates.
Q: I’d like to ask you about your novel The Contract. A young
divorcee named Shahira being a single mother is compelled through
circumstance to consider the proposition by wealthy Hussain to act as
his wife. How did this storyline come about? What served as the
inspiration?
A: My favourite trope for romance is the marriage of
convenience. There are so many possibilities there and for The Contract
I chose a divorcee with a child because it’s something that is still not
as widely accepted as it should be back home. Divorced women aren’t so
readily accepted as wives, even if the man himself is a divorcee or a
widower.
I want to tell stories that are intriguing, entertaining and fun to
read but also have that something extra, something that touches the
reader, makes them think.
Socio-cultural basis
Q: How do you view the bonds between partners ‘arranged’ for
marriage, which has an immense socio-cultural basis particularly in
South Asian countries. Do you attempt to symbolically nuance a modern
outlook at arranged marriages through the scenario in The Contract?
A: I have nothing against arranged marriages. I think they’ve
worked for decades in our part of the world, so there must be something
there.
However, I also feel very strongly about women’s rights. Forced
marriages, child marriages, these are the real evils, not arranged
marriages perse.
I think when people forget that they’re two individuals in a
relationship as equal partners, that is, problematic. As long as
partners respect each other’s right to individuality, have the freedom
to choose for themselves, things will work out I think. I do believe
that a liberal minded approach is necessary to make any relationship
work. When men begin to lord it over the wife, that’s oppression, that’s
curtailing free will and that’s unacceptable.
Q: You’re currently following a Masters in Fine Arts in
Creative Writing. Can you tell us a bit about that course? How do you
feel it developing the writer in you?
A: I think doing the MFA was one of the best decisions of my
life. It’s a great program. Kingston University has a sterling faculty,
with the likes of Hanif Kureishi, Paul Bailey, Elif Shafak, to name a
few.
It’s a two year course, and I’m more than half way through.
I’ll be submitting a dissertation at the end, which will be part of
my novel. I’ve learnt a great deal since I came here, not just about the
craft and theory of writing but also of myself as a writer. It’s been a
wonderful journey.
Q: What is in store ahead on your path as a novelist? Will you
consider diversifying into other genres of fiction in the future?
A: Certainly. I’ve been working on what is called a ‘literary
novel’ although many writers and critics are wary of the term. I’d like
nothing better than to finish my work in progress and have it
traditionally published by next year, if Allah wills. I also hope to
continue writing romance novels. My next novella by Indireads is coming
out in March this year. |