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Time of India
3 days ago
- General
- Time of India
Keep You Heart Lamp Alive Always
Bhanu Mushtaq's 'Heart Lamp Bhanu Mushtaq 's Heart Lamp , stories from the Muslim community in Karnataka, narrates heart-rending stories of women and children routinely treated as subhumans by patriarchal, insensitive men thriving on false interpretations of holy scriptures like the Quran and Hadiths to justify their dominating behaviour. But these holy books uphold the rights of women and respect them as valuable human beings. Maa ke kadmon ke neeche Jannat hain - Paradise lies beneath the mother's feet - says a Hadith on mothers. Another says that while you are offering namaz, and your mother calls for you, you can pause your prayer and answer her first. In the short stories by Mushtaq, one is saddened that mothers and wives are ill-treated by their fathers, husbands and brothers, all citing justification from Islamic holy scriptures, keeping the women in ignorance and terrorising them with their bullying, reducing them to chattels, enslaved and kept in deprivation, abused and discarded at will. "As evening started to lose its light, lamps were lit around the house. But the lamp in Mehrun's heart had been extinguished a long time ago. Who should she live for? What was the point? The walls, roof, plates, bowls, stove, bed, vessels, the rose plant in the front yard - none of these were able to answer her questions." Mehrun and her children, abandoned by her uncaring husband and dismissed by her maternal family, have nowhere to turn. In desperation, she wishes to end it all. Dare I try and answer her questions? Mehrun, you should live for yourself first. Stoke the flame of your heart lamp gently every day; remind yourself you are a person in your own right, with children to nurture, besides yourself. No one is worth destroying yourself for. No one should be given the power to extinguish your heart lamp. It is your pure, inner light that keeps your spirit alive; your source of self-inspiration and your sustainer, no matter how grave the challenges you face. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Premium 3 & 4 BHK ( 1079 - 1829 ) from ₹72.03 Lacs* at Jessore Road Srijan Realty Learn More Undo No one can make you feel inferior without your consent and submission, and no one can dare try to put out the flame in your heart. Keep the light aglow, find a way to survive despite all the humiliation and rejection. You will rise like a Phoenix from the ashes and overcome. And thrive. When Aashraf, in another narrative, seeks justice from mosque officials following her husband Yakub abandoning her and the children once she had a third girl baby in succession, she is ignored and dismissed. With nothing to eat, she begins working at Zulekha Begum's house. Hearing her story, the Begum tries to educate her on the true import of Islamic teachings. "The Prophet himself had only daughters. A son was born, but dies when he was still a child. Have you read about how much he loved his daughters? Bibi Fathima was his life. They were living proof of the bond that can exist between father and daughter." (Prophet's son/sons all died young). Aashraf did not understand a word. Kept in darkness about such matters, like the other women, she suffered indignities and humiliation at the hands of patriarchal misogynists who hijacked teachings and twisted them for their own convenience. Religious leaders need to talk of the true import of holy scriptures in simple language; educate women of their rights and cancel patriarchal practices that obstruct social justice and insaniyat. Heart lamps need to be kept alive. Authored by: Narayani Ganesh ganeshnarayani@ Why Arjun Was Chosen: The Untold Secret of Bhagavad Gita Chapter 4, Verse 3
Time of India
3 days ago
- General
- Time of India
Keep Your Heart Lamp Alive Always
By Narayani Ganesh Bhanu Mushtaq's Heart Lamp, stories from the Muslim community in Karnataka, narrates heart-rending stories of women and children routinely treated as subhumans by patriarchal, insensitive men thriving on false interpretations of holy scriptures like the Quran and Hadiths to justify their dominating behaviour. But these holy books uphold the rights of women and respect them as valuable human beings. Maa ke kadmon ke neeche Jannat hain – Paradise lies beneath the mother's feet – says a Hadith on mothers. Another says that while you are offering namaz, and your mother calls for you, you can pause your prayer and answer her first. In the short stories by Mushtaq, one is saddened that mothers and wives are ill-treated by their fathers, husbands and brothers, all citing justification from Islamic holy scriptures, keeping the women in ignorance and terrorising them with their bullying, reducing them to chattels, enslaved and kept in deprivation, abused and discarded at will. 'As evening started to lose its light, lamps were lit around the house. But the lamp in Mehrun's heart had been extinguished a long time ago. Who should she live for? What was the point? The walls, roof, plates, bowls, stove, bed, vessels, the rose plant in the front yard – none of these were able to answer her questions.' Mehrun and her children, abandoned by her uncaring husband and dismissed by her maternal family, have nowhere to turn. In desperation, she wishes to end it all. Dare I try and answer her questions? Mehrun, you should live for yourself first. Stoke the flame of your heart lamp gently every day; remind yourself you are a person in your own right, with children to nurture, besides yourself. No one is worth destroying yourself for. No one should be given the power to extinguish your heart lamp. It is your pure, inner light that keeps your spirit alive; your source of self-inspiration and your sustainer, no matter how grave the challenges you face. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent and submission, and no one can dare try to put out the flame in your heart. Keep the light aglow, find a way to survive despite all the humiliation and rejection. You will rise like a Phoenix from the ashes and overcome. And thrive. When Aashraf, in another narrative, seeks justice from mosque officials following her husband Yakub abandoning her and the children once she had a third girl baby in succession, she is ignored and dismissed. With nothing to eat, she begins working at Zulekha Begum's house. Hearing her story, the Begum tries to educate her on the true import of Islamic teachings. 'The Prophet himself had only daughters. A son was born, but dies when he was still a child. Have you read about how much he loved his daughters? Bibi Fathima was his life. They were living proof of the bond that can exist between father and daughter.' (Prophet's son/sons all died young ). Aashraf did not understand a word. Kept in darkness about such matters, like the other women, she suffered indignities and humiliation at the hands of patriarchal misogynists who hijacked teachings and twisted them for their own convenience. Religious leaders need to talk of the true import of holy scriptures in simple language; educate women of their rights and cancel patriarchal practices that obstruct social justice and insaniyat. Heart lamps need to be kept alive. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
New Indian Express
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- New Indian Express
I won't accuse, but I will put on record my silences in my autobiography: International Booker Prize winner Banu Mushtaq
Banu, Does writing get complicated after winning an award? How do you manage the pressure? Banu Mushtaq: Awards bring joy, but also expectations. After the award, everything changed. There's a lot of travel. I lose my personal time, but I'm happy. I meet people who have fought alongside me from the beginning. Interacting with them gives me special energy. I haven't written anything since winning the Booker. I don't recall writing anything recently, I've been too busy. But the award has given me confidence and encouragement. Writing remains a deeply private act, whether people are watching or not. And I'm happy about that. Can you tell us about the first story you ever wrote? What made you write that first sentence? Banu Mushtaq: I've been writing since childhood. I can't remember the first sentence now. In college, I wrote a story about a woman facing deep emotional tension due to her married life. She tried, she struggled, and ultimately died by suicide. I don't know why I wrote it — I had no personal experience of that. The story was titled Am I the Culprit? (Am I Apradhi?). Unfortunately, I didn't preserve it, but I remember it was published in Prajamata, a prominent Kannada weekly, and I can still recall the cover page. You're working on your autobiography. How truthful can a memoir really be? Are there things you're determined to put on record? Banu Mushtaq: People often say that writers don't tell the full truth in autobiographies. But I want to tell the truth, and truth is many-layered. There's the truth of events, and then the truth as conveyed through fiction. I cannot wear masks in my memoir. But even so, memory is a tricky alley. What I'm determined to put on record now are the silences, the struggles of being a Muslim woman writer, the politics of literary spaces, the fierce joys, and quiet devastations that shaped me. This is not a confession; it's a witnessing. There will be no complaints, no accusations. But I want to bare my life. I want to say many things that have been layered within me. In Heart Lamp, Mehrun is in despair and is eventually rescued by her daughter. It's a deeply intimate and haunting story, drawn from your own experience. How did you find the emotional distance to fictionalise such pain? Banu Mushtaq: That story carries the scent of my wounds. To write it, I had to step aside and let Mehrun speak, not as me, but as someone with her own voice and despair. Distance didn't come easily. It came with time, tears, and trust in the healing power of fiction. It was cathartic, but not sentimental. I wanted the truth, sculpted through story. I was very emotional. I once tried to end my life by pouring kerosene on myself. But Mehrun's story is different. She had no one. She was surrounded only by despair. In her marital and parental homes, no one supported her. She was drowning until her daughter, a minor, came to her rescue. In situations of conflict between parents, children often become wiser. Salma became an adult too early. She lost her childhood. There's no black-and-white morality in your stories. For example, in The High-Heeled Shoe, Nayaz both loves and tortures his wife. Why do your women characters often endure so much? Banu Mushtaq: What choice do they have? Patriarchy begins at home. Even if a woman leaves her husband, where will she go? Predators are everywhere, even at the workplace. She must earn, find shelter, and try to live with dignity. But even as a beggar or domestic worker, patriarchy haunts her. If she returns to her mother's home, she might be turned away. If she finds work, her employer may exploit her. Patriarchy follows her everywhere, even in death. This is why she endures. This is how she protests in her own way. I believe 50% of women would leave their partners if they had shelter. But they don't. Not even children are safe. In the womb itself, a girl child is aborted. There are posters in Rajasthan: "Spend ₹600 now, save ₹6 lakhs later." Misogyny begins before birth. Where should she go? You began writing during the Bandaya Sahitya movement in Karnataka. How did that shape your writing, both in content and style? Do you still feel that spirit today? Banu Mushtaq: Absolutely. Bandaya gave me permission to be angry in Kannada. It allowed me to disrupt, to write. I was one of the few Muslim women in that space. It was liberating but isolating. There was a fire, a solidarity with others who burned with questions. Bandaya made me brave. That spirit still burns in my writing quieter now, more precise. Bandaya is a lens, a way to perceive and internalize the world. Its slogan — Hudga aagali, kavya haadga aagali! (Let this sword become a poem) is deeply humane. It doesn't ask the sword to cut, but to unite. That gave me the strength to use my craft with purpose. In a recent event, someone asked why your stories focus mostly on the Muslim community. Why haven't we seen more representation of others? Banu Mushtaq: Bandaya aimed to challenge caste, gender, economic oppression. But after the Babri Masjid demolition, my focus shifted. I began asking questions about the demonisation of Muslims, denial of rights, and treatment as second-class citizens. These themes emerged in my later work. In Heart Lamp, my first collection, such stories aren't included. But I've written over 60 stories in six collections. Only 12 were selected for Heart Lamp. In my second collection, which is currently being translated, you'll see characters from diverse communities and broader themes. In Red Lungi, you explore class in subtle ways — like the contrast in how rich and poor boys undergo circumcision. There's also a Hindu doctor performing the procedure. Was that intentional? Banu Mushtaq: Of course. Surgery has no religion. Muslims don't insist on a Muslim doctor for medical procedures, we go to the best available doctor. Whether it's for a cold or for circumcision, what matters is care, not religion. What do you hope your stories will mean to the next generation of women who are writing, resisting, and trying to be heard? Banu Mushtaq: Wherever patriarchy exists, my stories are reaching there and resonating. The Booker jury said these stories are relevant because they have universality. These aren't just issues of Muslim women. They are the struggles of all women, poor, marginalised, oppressed by patriarchy. As long as patriarchy exists, my stories will be heard, discussed, cherished, and they will haunt readers. I'm certain of that.
The Hindu
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Lady with the lamp
Kannada writer Banu Mushtaq has been lending expression to the voiceless for five decades, and when Deepa Bhasthi came on board as translator, her stories leapt across linguistic barriers and provincial borders. On Tuesday (May 20, 2025), Mushtaq's Heart Lamp, translated from Kannada to English by Bhasthi, won the International Booker Prize for 2025. This is the first honour for Kannada, a language Mushtaq says has 'cosmic wonder and earthly wisdom', on this stage. It's also the first time a collection of short stories has been feted, and the second time in three years an Indian writer has gotten the top prize. Geetanjali Shree had won for Tomb of Sand, translated from the Hindi by Daisy Rockwell in 2022. Heart Lamp (And Other Stories/Penguin) is a selection of 12 tales, written between 1990 and 2023. An array of characters have walk-on parts — maulvis, thuggish brothers who flex muscles on their whims, grandparents, uncles, broods of children — but the spotlight is firmly on Muslim girls and women on the margins, searching for a toehold in a claustrophobic patriarchal world. It was published originally in Kannada (Haseena Mattu Itara Kathegalu) by Abhiruchi Prakashana, Mysuru. One of the stories in Heart Lamp, 'Black Cobra', was made into a feature film, Hasina, by Girish Kasaravalli. A lawyer and activist based in Hassan, a town on the leeward side of the Western Ghats and a gateway to coastal Karnataka, Mushtaq, now 77, was inspired by the Bandaya Sahitya movement of the 1980s, which urged women to write about their lived experiences. An empathetic observer and listener, Mushtaq began documenting stories from unheard corners, jotting down every aspect of the women's lives, their drudgery, anxieties, as well as their joy. 'This book is my love letter to the idea that no story is local. [It] was born from the belief that no story is ever small, that in the tapestry of human experience every thread holds the weight of the whole,' she said in an impassioned acceptance speech high on grace and gratitude. Most of the women she writes about lack agency over their bodies. They are often powerless, financially dependent, and have little say over any other aspect too, particularly education. Girls are withdrawn from school at the drop of a hat. Dash of wry humour If they are married, like Mehrun in the title story, it means they can never return to their parents' home; whatever the husband's misdemeanours, Mehrun is asked to bear it or look away. When she can't take it anymore, it's her daughter Salma who pulls her from the brink. When this spirit of sisterhood works, women extend a hand to others; when it doesn't, there's misery and silent tears deep into the night. Her stories have wry humour too — in the last, a mother weary after giving birth, appeals to god: 'Be a woman once, Oh Lord!' Like Sara Aboobacker, who wrote about Muslim women in coastal Kerala and Karnataka and was critical of patriarchy and other issues, Mushtaq too has been outspoken about women's lack of choice in matters of faith and reproductive rights. Both writers faced the wrath of fundamentalists. For making Mushtaq's stories gain a global readership, Bhasthi's 'radical translation' has come in for praise. Bhasthi writes in the translator's note that between them they know more than six languages. Bhasthi retains the rhythms of the many Kannadas spoken in the region. For instance, Mushtaq speaks Dakhni at home, whose base is Urdu with loan words from Persian, Marathi, Kannada, Tamil and Telugu — but her language at work and on the street is Kannada. Readers will break into a smile on hearing the words mothers often spit out in shock — 'thoo, thoo.' Booker Jury Chair Max Porter said the radical translation hits 'viscerally.' Both writer and translator harped on the richness of Kannada and hoped it would lead to more translations from other 'magical' languages of South Asia. Calling literature one of the 'last sacred spaces where we can live inside each other's minds, if only for a few pages,' Mushtaq hoped her win would 'light the way for more stories that defy borders.' The finest of literature offers an honest mirror, and surely Mushtaq holds a luminous one.
