Interview  

An author of unshakeable convictions

by Dilshan Boange

In this era where a global media culture is now sweeping across oceans and national borders believing that the pen is mightier than the sword can surely open paths that lead to spectacular accomplishments that the rawness of steels could never fulfil when the need for sensitivity and sincerity through words is what matters.

Sweta Vikram is a writer who has proven her prowess in the written word as a poetess, an essayist and novelist with an impressive body of work which is continuing to grow. This widely travelled New York based writer of Indian origin has several academic credentials to her name among which is a Masters in Strategic Communications from the Columbia University, USA.

A columnist for several periodicals related to literature and also an educator in creative writing Sweta has taken part in over 100 literary fora and 10 writing residency programs to date. Her book No Ocean Here which was nominated for the Pushcart Prize has become part of social issues campaigns and is now ranked #15 on Amazon. Com under Asian American Poetry.

In an interview with the Sunday Observer’s Montage the prolific writer and multifaceted activist Sweta Vikram gives insight about her craft and her journey in the world of writing.

Exerpts:

Question: You have published nine books to date. That is a quite a notable volume of work. There is more on the cards I presume. But before going into discussing your work as a poet and novelist, I’d like to ask about the cultural environs that would have shaped your creative pulse. India, North Africa and the USA have all been home to you. What can you say about living in these three very different parts of the world from a point of socio-cultural experience?

Answer: There are two more books that are upcoming so 11 in all. I appreciate the global exposure that I got very early on in my life. My love for travel and desire to understand the world through cultures and cuisines started very young. My parents worked very hard to ensure my brother and I got the best of everything. What I am trying to say is that instead of feeling like a child of displacement, I felt gratitude for my life and living in different parts of the world. It’s made me a better person, an optimist, and a survivor, whatever the circumstances. Nomadic living has trained me to become a storyteller and observe every culture with confidence as an insider but absorb the idiosyncrasies as an outsider.

Voice of the cultures

Q: Do you feel through your writing you provide a voice of the cultures you have lived in? Would you say your poetry has politics of representation when it comes to those cultures or do you feel more as the observer who provides a window to the reader?

A: I try to touch upon the three cultures in my writing. Our experiences shape our opinions, so what I write about is how I perceive each of them. Anaïs Nin said, “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are”. I completely agree with that. While there is no conscious effort towards politics of representation in my poetry, I am someone who tries to make sense in the world around me through words and writing, I’m sure some flavours of politics will seep in as I share my disagreement or agreement. There is no conscious effort to specifically be either the voice or the observer.

Q: Apart from being a writer you are a very active participant in the sphere of literary activism and the publishing industry. You have taken part in over 100 literary foras, you are involved with periodicals as a contributor and editor, work with the literary agency Siyahi and also perform the role of an educator in writing.

From your experience and insights from all these avenues, how do you see the development of the opportunities for writers in Asia as compared to the West? What in your opinion are the factors both artistically and commercially set yardsticks for writers in Asia and the West?

A: The 1990s and 2000s witnessed a dramatic boom in Indian writers working in English. I think Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things opened up new doors for Indian writing and writers. That said the “Indian identity” is complicated for a writer in this global setup hungry for world literature.

When I was looking for agents in the United States for my first novel, Perfectly Untraditional, those who favourably responded to the query letter said that while they liked my writing, the west wasn’t ready for a happy immigrant story. I was disappointed but refused to change the core of my book to suit the stereotype. Eventually, it worked out for me. My book came out in India and did well. But my experience made me so much more aware of the differences in expectations of storytelling and sellability in the east versus the west.

Whether they desire it or not, it seems there are more labels attached to desi writers in the west versus their counterparts in India. While writers in Asia might have more “freedom” in terms of what they want to write about, I wonder how that translates in the global market. Does world literature privilege Indian writers in the west who are expected to fossilise images of the subcontinent versus writers in Asia who work with national geographies and write about today’s times?

Thematic image

Q: Your book of poetry Beyond the Scent of Sorrow has the eucalyptus tree in the southwest of Portugal as the thematic image and central symbol to bring out the plight of women. How did this schema and work in general come about? What can you tell us about the story behind it?

A: Beyond the Scent of Sorrow is a chapbook of poems lending voice to eco-feminism. When I travelled to OBRAS, a writing residency in the southwest region of Portugal, the residency director drove a few of us to see the eucalyptus forests. There was something tragic about eucalyptus trees being chopped down and oak trees replacing them. When I asked about deforestation, the director said that the locals believed that the days for eucalyptus trees were over. They needed something younger, like oak. Right before reaching Portugal, I’d read up a report on the challenges faced by women of the world and age discrimination was on that list. Somehow, the director’s words struck an emotional chord about how our society perceives usability, dispensability, and age. I saw a harsh similarity between the conditions of women and eucalyptus trees, and I ended up writing the book, which was nominated for the Independent Literary Awards.

Q: Your book of poetry Kaleidoscope was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. It has a very interesting concept in its schema, built on depicting how colours are associated with the life of a Hindu woman. Can you please describe how you crafted the narrative devices in this book? Being of Indian origin how much do you relate to this work yourself?

A: I love colours and my wardrobe and friends will tell you so. I feel colours brighten up our lives. I was always left wondering when our American friends ask about the significance of colours looking at our wedding pictures. I was convinced that for a culture, which is one of the oldest in the world, there has to be significance and a story behind the colours women adorn. As I started to research, I realised that it seemed to relate to a journey, the presence or absence of a man appeared to affect the colour a woman wore.

Red is the colour of the bride, green of fertility, and white represents widowhood. It was also interesting to note how colours hold same meanings to an extent across different cultures (pink is popular with little girls, purple with female teenagers while white is considered pure so brides in the west wear it along with Hindu widows in India).

I relate to the societal nuances in Kaleidoscope: An Asian Journey Of Colors but that’s the extent of it. What colours I wear have more to do with my mood and environment less social requirements.

Suicide

Q: Your novel Perfectly Untraditional has at its centre Shaili Kapoor a woman who seems to be somewhat estranged from her Indian roots and heritage save for her deep ties to her mother whose tragic suicide brings the protagonist back to her familial setting and discover buried secrets and the need to make peace with past afflictions. How did you develop this storyline and plot?

A: Actually, Shaili Kapoor, the female protagonist in Perfectly Untraditional isn’t estranged from her Indian roots. Her father forbids her to return to India, so it’s her father she is estranged from. That said, there were three core reasons why I wrote the book:

I was tired of not seeing books about people like my friends, family, and myself: new age, first generation immigrants who move to the west because of their own choice and reasons and not because there is nothing to be offered to them in their home country. The world is global and these people are happy in their new homes. There is nostalgia for the old country but there is willing assimilation into the new culture.

Men in my generation have changed. Most of them who grew up in South Asia grew up in different times—gender roles attached to chores and stay-at-home mothers pampering them. Many homes had different rules for girls and boys. But the same men have changed for their wives, girlfriends, partners, and friends. I felt I wasn’t seeing books about the “good Indian men” of my generation—like my husband, brother, or male friends—men who are partners in the true sense.

We are all products of our childhood and how we process the world reflects our own experiences growing up. In Perfectly Untraditional, I wanted to show that no one person is all bad or good. We all have Jekyll and Hyde inside of us; time, place, and experiences reveal those sides.

Inspiration

Q: What served as inspirations in the character development of the protagonist Shaili Kapoor? And does she represent true to life characters among migrant Indians of present times?

A: I believe physical displacement triggers a movement in our thoughts, which makes us more aware of the world around us and the voice inside us. While Shaili Kapoor’s character isn’t based on one person, she definitely represents the younger crop of professional and educated immigrants from India.

Shaili Kapoor, like many of us, realises the truth about herself after she moves away. And there is sweet victory and exhilaration in getting closer to your true identity. Not settling for whatever is chosen for you and not romanticising everything left behind, I see that in a lot of first generation immigrants from my generation.

Q: On your website you have said that your mission as a writer is to “create a body of work that reflects social change using words.” How do you see yourself progressing in this direction? What books have you planned for the future?

A: Sometimes clichés explain it best. I’m a big believer in the adage, “Pen is mightier than the sword”.

I write poetry to make sense of the world around me. I believe poetry can be a strong, healing, nourishing and non-confrontational voice for activism, awareness and advocacy. Some of my poems highlight inhumane deeds and question authoritarian doctrines and traditions. I try to do so in a non-aggressive, progressive, and intellectual manner encouraging critical thinking. My aim is to empower my readers to take back their thoughts and shake off inaction and complacency.

I work with organisations focused on social issues to give voices to those who need it. My poetry and prose are part of films, anti- human trafficking campaigns, anti-domestic violence campaigns and AIDS awareness campaigns. It is gratifying and encouraging seeing my work echoing with a variety of audiences and winning award nominations.

As far as the future goes, I have two more poetry collections, tentatively titled, Wet Silence and Smoke in a Poet’s Heart, coming out in 2014 and 2015 respectively. I am currently editing novel number 2 and writing novel number 3. I am also working on a documentary which focuses on creating awareness about violence against women.