An Afternoon at the Asia House: Part I
It was built up as an afternoon of literary Davids from Pakistan, writers who had emerged relatively new on the horizon of South Asian English fiction and were fast beginning to catch up with the entrenched Goliaths of India. Pakistan appears often in the global media for issues ranging from its institutionalised support of violence to its undisputed talent in terms of both cricket and corruption, and yet, here they were veiling the violence with an artistic cover. So, what were the new Pakistani literati really like, I thought, as I navigated the swell of the great unwashed over the Bank Holiday at Regent's Street. The event was at the Asia House on a surprisingly warm London day. The institution's entrance was as well-maintained as a Harley Street physician's, with an immaculate reception room. Located on New Cavendish Street, between Portland Street and Baker Street, it is an unexpected oasis of cultural activity a few hundred feet away from Oxford Street's hustle. I climbed the blue-carpeted stairs, and seated myself among the two-roomed audience of over a hundred attendees. The room had classical proportions, delightfully high ceilings and as ironically colonial as one could get for 'Asia' House. Founded in 1996, it has steadily built itself up as a non-profit, non-political, pan-Asian organisation in Britain. It runs business, politics, current affairs, literary, visual-and-performing arts get-togethers in separate jamborees, hosting roughly 125 events annually covering 30 Asian countries. Buoyed by corporate donors (such as Standard Chartered Private) it benefitted from the fine hand of author William Dalrymple for a time at the tiller. This year's third Asian Writers Week was held in the Adams-style 'Fine Rooms', where colonialism came full circle on the ceiling, the delicate filigree pink-and-green plasterwork borders at the top intertwining its past with the evolving present beneath. The pan-Asian literary festival featured writers from India, China, Malaysia, Iran, Afghanistan and the UK. Amit Chaudhuri, editor and author, did the opening night act with Mark Tully of ex-BBC fame. Tully, a virtuoso of balanced reporting during Bangladesh's Liberation War, had also made waves among us immigrants by famously claiming England to be a "generally, a very miserable place" and thereafter dividing his time between India (where he lives half the year with his girlfriend) and Britain (where he lives the other half with his ex-wife), thus proving that an admirable balance in personal life and professional outlook is not beyond the reach of mortals. The week ended unfortunately, with the BBC's John Simpson, a bombastic carpetbagger who had been 'embedded' with the US infantry's march into a bombed-out Baghdad. But there were also the likes of Hardeep Singh Kohli, a self-made property tycoon and self-styled comedian, who will be closing this month-long event by reading from his travelogue Indian Takeaway. I looked over the audience: dedicated lit groupies, satchels over shoulders, furiously reading their dissertations without lifting a glance towards new entrants. Others were friends of the House, sociable and chatty, acquainted with the writers and their extended community. It promised unfortunately to be genteel and well-behaved- English table manners threatening to contain the Indian spirit within the living rooms of the long-departed fourth Count of Cavendish. This particular event featured Daniyal Muinuddeen, Kamila Shamsie and Nadeem Aslam being interviewed throughout the session by Tahmima Anam. The writers being interviewed were all from Pakistan and the interviewee was from Bangladesh, though it quickly became apparent that none of them could be classified so easily into nationalities, as there was the persistent conundrums of birth, education, parentage and multiple residences, layered over by self-defined declarations of cultural, religious and literary affinities. Daniyal Muinuddeen was born in Lahore, from an Italian mother and a Pakistani father. Educated in Dartmouth and Yale, he lived in New York and was running a remote farm in Khanpur, southern Punjab while also living in Cairo. He had published his first book In Other Rooms, Other Wonders, a series of interconnected short stories that range across the landscape of today's Pakistan. Each story highlights the contrast between the huge cities of Lahore and Karachi to its lonely, hard villages, the rich and powerful landlords and the powerless labour in their pitiless grasp, and doing it with stunning characterisation and narrative power. Kamila Shamsie was born in Karachi. Her first novel, In the City by the Sea, was shortlisted for the Mail on Sunday/John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, and her second, Salt and Saffron, won her a place on Orange's list of '21 Writers for the 21st Century'. In 1999 Kamila received the Prime Minister's Award for Literature in Pakistan. She writes for The Guardian, The New Statesman, Index on Censorship and Prospect magazine, and broadcasts on radio. Kartography (2004) explores the strained relationship between soulmates Karim and Raheen, set against a backdrop of ethnic violence. Burnt Shadows (2009) is her latest book. It is Nadeem Aslam who slowly won the attention of the audience - but more of that later. Born in Gujranwala, he came to Britain at the age of 14 when his father, a Communist, fled President Zia's regime and settled in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire. He went to Manchester University to read biochemistry but left in his third year to become a writer. He is self-taught in English and published his first short story in Urdu in a Pakistani newspaper. In England, with a Communist father who worked as a bin man, Nadeem migrated between Asian neighborhoods around Britain, going wherever free accommodation was on offer. He did receive financial assistance from the Royal Literary Fund, but handed back a third because he thought it was too much. His debut novel, Season of the Rainbirds (1993), set in rural Pakistan, won a Betty Trask Award and the Authors' Club First Novel Award, and was shortlisted for the Mail on Sunday/John Llewellyn Rhys Prize and the Whitbread First Novel Award. His second novel, Maps for Lost Lovers, took 11 years to write, won the 2005 Encore Award and the 2005 Kiriyama Pacific Rim Book Prize. His latest novel is The Wasted Vigil, (2008), its title derived from a painting of the same name by a Pakistani artist. And there was Tahmima Anam, a poised and articulate interviewer who also writes occasionally for the Guardian. As the author of A Golden Age she doesn't need an introduction to readers of an English-language newspaper in Bangladesh. Seated there, I had a dim memory of reading somewhere that the book was a part of a proposed trilogy, that she, salmon-like, was swimming upstream for inspiration to the source of conflict and separation by tracing back to Calcutta and the Partition.
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