Mr Shreekumar Varma
Writer, Poet & Journalist
I first met Mr. Muthiah 47 years ago. He was my teacher first, later he became a friend and was a constant source of inspiration. One of the last events he attended was the launch of my novel, Kipling’s Daughter. He was ill and too weak to climb up to the dais. He spoke sitting in a chair below. He said, “I’m not too well, but how can I refuse one of my favorite students?” This is something which I will remember till the end of my days. I remember his love and determination to come there despite his ill health.
Mr Madras
There was also a time when I began to write a book on Madras. Whenever I lost my momentum and focused on my other literary works, like a divine reminder, there would be a little nudge from Mr. Muthiah, either in his columns, or he’d bring up the topic when we met. But I got caught up in other projects and so many other people began to write about Madras. I gave up this project altogether. I was one of the first to call him Mr Madras in one of my columns. He was a mentor in so many ways, and a Master of Madras. I’m truly honored to be a part of Mr S Muthiah Memorial Event.
Mr. Muthiah began as a sign of the times for me. During the last year of my MA in Literature, I joined the journalism course at Bhavans School of Journalism. Those days, I had a diary in which I took down notes. I also used to draw the faces of our lecturers. Some years ago, I saw the diary lying around, and there was Mr. Muthiah’s face, large and smiling, with a much younger face that I knew in 1977. Mr. Muthiah took our editing class. The next year I joined the Madras Law College, and there was a big strike that year against the introduction of the semester system. In desperation, I applied to the Indian Express and got a job. There I was in Bombay, in Express Towers at Nariman Point, as a journalist instead of a lawyer. After the Express, I also worked for a film industry paper run by the Producers’ Association that we revamped and renamed Cinema Today.
Power of the Moment
Things have happened to me, and they always made sense later on. Even when they didn’t make sense, I felt really good. There are basically two kinds of people, the ones who think they are guided and controlled by some higher force, which we call fate, or fortune, or God, and those who believe that life is a match played between us and the world, and that we can create our own moments and pathways. I belong to a subcategory that believes in the power of the moment where the past shapes us, and thoughts about the future guide us. But we still live in the moment.
Sometimes I’m rational and full of myself. Sometimes I feel protected by God or the universe, if there is indeed a powerful force that oversees us. We are still not mere toys of God, but rather instruments of God or even versions of God. The universe has a pattern, a rhythm, and a music that can guide you if you recognize it, and make it a part of your own life. Which is why when I write a short story or a play or a novel, I may be God or the creator. But I give my characters enough room to maneuver and decide and manage their own stories. The plot is loose enough; the characters are free enough until the point where I reach the end and finish the book. I say this because there have been many instances where my characters saw other parts than what I had plotted for them, and took the story through completely different routes, all on their own.
A Novel in Three Notebooks
After coming back to Madras from Bombay, I started the printing press along with two partners who were older than my father; and then a city magazine, along with my wife Geeta. Journalism helps to lay a foundation, if you want to become a writer. You work on stories; you interview people and understand their persona. You bring strands of information and opinion together. Then you plot your story, which is what journalism is all about. So, from that time onwards, there was this desire in me to write a novel.
During my school days, I had already started a magazine. On a foolscap paper, I wrote with a pen, drew pictures and traced out photos. Close relatives were forced to read it, even if they didn’t want to buy it. During my early college days, I had already written a novel in three notebooks with a fountain pen. It was set in Egypt and it was a murder mystery. I wanted someone to read it but no one would. I went to my grandmother and read it out to her. She was in bed, and she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. Day after day, chapter after chapter, I sat and read out the whole novel to her. At the end, she said she liked it. Of course, I believed her wholeheartedly. I don’t know where that novel is now and where those three notebooks are.
A Novel and a Theft
In the mid-90s, I started writing my new novel. There was a small room behind our house and I’d sit at a computer typing. I wasn’t very dedicated, though. I only wrote when it was convenient. One night, a thief broke in and made off with my music system and my computer. It was a terrible shock. The computer had 25% of my novel. When people consoled me, I said, “That’s okay. He’s just a fan who wanted to be the first to read my novel.” But I was deeply hurt. That incident perked me up and I started writing in earnest. I had some of my handwritten notes. I shut myself up in my room and wrote and wrote.
We got a watchman for the house to discourage more fans like that. But this wasn’t my first published work. I had a dear friend who worked at Macmillan. To celebrate the 50th year of Independence, they were bringing out small volumes meant for children on freedom fighters. I decided to write on a Pazhassi Raja. My wife’s aunt was married into the Pazhassi royal family. The Pazhassi royal family member arranged an interview with his uncle, the patriarch of the family.
Lament of Mohini
Seeing my first published work triggered my enthusiasm and I completed my first novel, Lament of Mohini. They say your first novel generally has a lot of yourself in it. ‘Lament of Mohini’ was based on a royal family and a Namboodiri family. The protagonist worked in a printing press like me. There are so many things you hear about as children. It includes legends and family tales and sheer gossip. My father lived in a joint family in Kilimanoor, the same family where Raja Ravi Varma was born. It was a storehouse of stories—some poignant, some funny; many of them found a place in my novel.
But I was in for a few surprises. I had based my description of a Namboodiri house and household, based on a book written by my wife Geeta’s uncle. When I visited a similar house for the first time after the book was published, the descriptions were startlingly similar.
You cannot enter a Namboodiri house. They say that if a woman goes there as one who’s married, she is brought back after she’s dead. Even if she goes to visit the temple or the pond to have a bath, she’s veiled in a cloth and there’s an umbrella which covers her. She goes unseen by anybody. But in my novel, a performance happens inside the Namboodiri’s house and among the invitees is the protagonist, a royal family member. He gets a headache. He goes out and has a nap in one of the outhouses there. Then he comes back to the house and it has started raining by then.
When the rain becomes very heavy, he runs into a bathhouse, where he sees a girl swimming. That’s how they first meet and nobody else knows. After the book was published, I realized that there was a true story that happened exactly like how it happened in my novel. I believe in serendipity, but this was weird. The book was Longlisted for the Crossword Book Award.
A Goa Trip leads to Maria’s Room
My wife used to tell me that my personality changed in the thick of my writing. If it was a dark story, then God bless, which is probably why there’s so much humour in my work that provides the much-needed relief from the tension in the work. After this book, we went to Goa to relax for a while. There we visited the Mahalasa temple. They told us that the deity was also known as Mohini. Since my novel was called Lament of Mohini, I promised the priests that I would come again with a copy of the book as an offering. When we visited next, I had my novel with me. When we reached Goa, it was raining heavily, completely in contrast to the sunny Goa that we expected.
A cab from the station couldn’t make it because the roads were flooded. We needed a larger vehicle. The driver flagged down an SUV. We got in with our luggage. I realized that there was another couple in the car. They were seated behind almost unseen and were very silent. The driver dropped them somewhere along the way. They got out silent and brooding. It was a trigger. It gave birth to a new idea. Forced to spend a lot of time in our room because of the rain, I started writing. This story was about a writer from Chennai, an old story from Portugal, the new Goan state, an artist and a beautiful girl. I read up on the basic history of Goa, but relied on my imagination for the rest. It was a story that suited the dark rain-lashed background and a psychological study of a doomed relationship. The novel (Maria’s Room) was longlisted for the first Man Asian literary prize.
I was also happy with the book much later for another reason. It was converted into a special audio file, with my permission, for the use of blind readers. In any school or college library, there is a long line to get access to books in Braille. And audio format is of great help. Most publishers and authors are wary of permitting this because of the fear of piracy. Apart from Maria’s Room, my children’s book ‘The Magic Store of New-Cham-Vu,’ also came out in a format for the blind to read.
The Dark Lord Beckons
My first children’s book came out in the late 90s and my first novel was launched in 2000. I had already begun my innings as a playwright in 1986. I entered a British Council one act play competition with no background or experience, except for a bag full of curiosity. The play was called the Dark Lord. It was directed by today’s veteran, Vinod Anand and featured among others, a 20-year-old Anita Nair as an 80-year-old woman. The play won the second price. I was so happy and surprised that I didn’t write another play for almost a decade. Then came another competition, this time for a full-length play. It was sponsored by The Hindu and The Madras Players. I wrote a play based on an earlier short story of mine. It was called ‘Bow of Rama’ and it won the first prize.
Again, it took me 10 years to recover from the surprise of getting the first prize. When the Madras Players celebrated its 50th year, they asked me for a play, I wrote ‘Platform,’ which was directed by a dear friend N S Yamuna, who is now in Bangalore. It was only with my plays that I really began to experiment with form and content. The novel is too big, and the story sort of flows. You can’t do much with it, except for a broad idea of how to keep it different from the usual. But in a play, you can experiment.
A String of Plays
In ‘Platform,’ every alternate scene had the same actors in different roles and stories. When a train stops at a station, you’ll see strangers gathered on a bench or standing together. And some of them look familiar. You sit in your seat in your train, and try to guess their stories. That was a premise of the play. I was also almost unconsciously forming a narrative of power—the power of the patriarch over his family, the rich over the poor, male over female, etc.
The journey of plays began with ‘The Dark Lord.’ It continued right through my other plays, ‘Bow of Rama,’ ‘Platform,’ ‘Five,’ and ‘Cast Party.’ At the ‘Cast Party,’ one of the lead actors took me aside and said, “It’s so wonderful how you were able to pick up from my life.” His character was almost like a reflection of his own life. He later went on to become a big actor in Hindi films.
Recently, another actor who is a seasoned performer in Tamil and English theatre also told me the same thing.
In ‘Cast Party,’ there was a play within a play. It touched on the toxic power of the aggressive narrative. It took up the theme of an audience watching problematic relationships on the stage and passing comments on them. Normally when we sit together and watch a movie or a play, we discuss what is happening there and comment, “Oh, such a nasty man or such a terrible woman!” We don’t realise that we do the same thing at home. The back story was set in the army. The whole thing happens in Wellington between two army men. The entire play is a reflection of what happened during that time, and how it gets sorted out.
Sisters: Transcending Time
Even in ‘Midnight Hotel,’ which had ghosts and special effects and a lot of humour, the core theme was that of power and subjugation. In ‘Sisters,’ which came much later and was directed by Ajit Chitturi, there is an old man in the first scene, and each successive scene takes us back to his earlier years. The first scene is set in Mylapore. There is this old man and two old women, his sisters (typical Mylapore Mamis). The second scene is set in Kerala. The same man is younger by 20 years. The two women there are also sisters but they’re nurses. And then 20 years earlier, the scene set in goa, the same man meets his two sisters- now, young girls from a convent. The story goes full circle, in the reverse order.
A word about the short story. I can’t say for sure how many have been published because they have all been in anthologies. I think the best short stories depend on the reader to complete the experience. It is like a homeopathy pill. The small little thing goes into your system and then it works. The story already contains the muscle and bone; and tissue and soul. That will develop further when it is nourished by the reader’s imagination.
An Unusual Story
The most unusual story I wrote was for a Rupa Publications anthology. It was based in Thiruvananthapuram, where I was born, and had a glimpse of Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple. It touched upon the student politics of that time. It was unusual because the first part was like a normal short story. The second part was not only dramatic, but it was in the form of a play. Right now, I have on hand a novel and a play. The play has a current period showing the floods in Chennai, and a flashback to an earlier period showing the emergency, the Naxalites in Kerala, and Kalari with a martial arts master. The protagonist is from Kerala. A Bengali girl comes there to learn kalari.
My novel is called ‘Indian Scotch’ and I started writing it exactly 20 years ago, when I was a writer in residence in Scotland. And that has flown along like the proverbial river through all my other works, children’s books, novels, short stories, poetry and plays. Every day, I think I will reach the end of that novel. Then the next day I go back to it and start again. So that is where I rest my case.
Q&A
Q: How do you nurture and sustain your creativity, especially when faced with writer’s block?
Shreekumar: Writer’s block generally happens when I write a 250 to 300 pages novel. If there is a block, I start writing a play. Sometimes, the whole play is over and then I get back to the novel. In the early days, I started celebrating my writer’s block.
Q: How have other forms of art, such as music or visual arts influenced your writing and creative process? How has it impacted your thinking when you are the great grandson of Raja Ravi Varma?
Shreekumar: It feels nice and it’s such a legacy. The family has gifted so much of arts and literature. Apart from Raja Ravi Varma, there were also other gifted people in the family. Swathi Thirunal was a music composer. Kerala Kalidasa wrote poetry. Raja Ravi Varma himself was a wonderful poet. It’s a great gift to be born in such a family. I’m inspired constantly by music and art, especially music. Music is something which runs like blood in my veins.
Q: Have there been mentors like Mr Muthiah, who have profoundly influenced your writing journey?
Shreekumar: Mr. Muthiah was an early teacher. After that for a long time, we didn’t meet but he was always there for me. It’s always better to be inspired, and then to move ahead and take your own path. My favourite writers those days were Agatha Christie, Gabrielle Marquez and people like that. But I don’t have somebody whom I stick to and keep imitating. Now I’m virtually on my own.
Q: In what ways do you believe life experiences enrich and influence artistic expression in writing?
Shreekumar: Experience is absolutely necessary. If you are an art student and in art school, they normally take you out on a little excursion. You have to look at the trees, the skies and the flowers and you are encouraged to draw. The same thing applies to writing. You must read a lot. But your experiences are what makes your writing special. Much of my work reflects my life. Without experience, someone like me would have never written. The fact I was a journalist earlier has helped me a lot.
Q: What are some of the most profound influences and passions that have shaped your creative existence as a writer, poet and journalist?
Shreekumar: There are so many incidents and events. I studied my primary education in Good Shepherd Convent, Chennai. I stayed just behind the school. While everybody else took the bus or walked, I was taken to the school in a car, from the back gate to the front gate. I travelled by train every day to Christian College. In Bombay, I was doing night shifts and went to so many areas of Bombay that no resident would have ever visited. I was in the thick of the film industry. There are so many experiences which have shaped my writing, which I don’t think many other people would have experienced.
Q: What are your views on fake news?
Shreekumar: Fake news is something that cannot be stopped because of the sheer magnitude of the social media and that anybody can write anything.
Q: How do you perceive the evolution of writing and storytelling in today’s digital age? What will be the impact of AI?
Shreekumar: As far as the evolution of writing is concerned, 10 to 15 years ago, we had a conversation amongst the writers. We asked if Kindle would completely replace the books. Today, the book continues to sell. But we never know about the future. The attention span of readers is so much reduced nowadays. The last 20 years have been the fastest changing times and we can’t say what’s coming next.
Q: Can writing be a full-time profession?
Shreekumar: I think it is a risk making writing your profession. Even Chetan Bhagat was working when he started writing. He used to give the first few chapters of his book free in the supermarket along with the grocery. Till you become a big name like Jeffrey Archer, you must work and make money. But if you write for the love of writing, it is always possible that you will get somewhere. If you write to make money, it is like any other business and you have to learn the ABCs of writing and make an industry out of it. I write for the love of writing.
Q: What’s your views on ghostwriting?
Shreekumar: Ghost writing is a business. There are people who are very good at writing, but their names are not so big, because they write for other people, who are already famous. Even renowned music directors outsource their work.
Q: Do you have any specific rituals or routines that you follow while writing? How do they contribute to your creative discipline?
Shreekumar: I write when I feel like writing and when the urge is on. But it’s better to have a certain time limit. If you’re going to write at seven o’clock, go there and sit, whether something creative is coming out or not. One more thing is that inspiration or imagination is like electricity. It is always there in the air. When you channelize it and switch it on, it comes out.
Q: What is the role of culture and heritage in shaping your perspectives and narratives as a writer?
Shreekumar: The role of culture is very important. Just after my first novel, there was a shipload of foreigners who came here and they wanted to meet local writers and playwrights. They were from the US, UK and other places. Every time they asked a question, it was about me and my culture. If you are rooted in your culture, you don’t have to keep spouting it all the time. Culture helps you to grow and it also helps your work to grow.
Q: Is your creative thinking at your best in the early part of the day?
Shreekumar: Generally, creative thinking takes place in the early part of the day. But I wake up a little late. Because of the night shifts I did when I was in Bombay with the newspaper, I generally sleep late. I am good towards the later part of the day.
