'My Roles Were Never Normal': Banu Mushtaq Speaks at The Wire's Event
Joshua Kullu
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New Delhi: At an event in the series of public commemorations of The Wire marking 10 years since its inception, senior editor Arfa Khanum Sherwani sat down with acclaimed Kannada writer Banu Mushtaq, the 2025 International Booker Prize winner, to discuss literature, memory and the politics of storytelling.
Titled 'Namma India: The Many Words in Our Worlds', the event was a celebration of India's diversity, and of those who push marginalised stories into the limelight. During the conversation, The Wire's illustrator Pariplab Chakraborty drew live art of the event.
The conversation centred around Mushtaq’s short story collection, Heart Lamp (translated to English by Deepa Bhasthi), the first Kannada work to win the prestigious award. The two also spoke of Mushtaq's life, her many roles as rights activist, lawyer and writer, and the family that shaped her, the negative and even violent reactions her work received because of it speaks of patriarchy within Muslim homes, and more.
Sherwani remarked on how deeply the stories resonated with her on a personal level: “The part that really stuck with me was that this wasn’t just some North Indian story I’d heard growing up. Sometimes the stories felt like they were my own, sometimes like they were my mom’s … I feel like I know most of these women. Especially this one part where there’s a situation with the husband’s body covered in sores… they say even if the wife uses her tongue to clean those wounds, it still won’t be enough.”
The stories in Heart Lamp document women’s everyday resilience. Her writing is inseparable from her activism, Mushtaq said. Recalling past protests she attended and her participation in the Bandaya Sahitya movement, she said, ‘We used to talk about these things and discuss casteism with them. Whenever women faced injustice... it was like 'Banu Mushtaq had joined the protest procession, shouting slogans. Look here, Khaji Sahib's granddaughter and Mutauli Sahib's daughter-in-law were marching down the street... and the police even arrested her.'" She acknowledged how her community saw her activism as disruptive, "My roles were never normal to begin with. I was never a normal wife, normal daughter, or normal mother. A little bit of abnormality."
Her family, she said, and particularly her father, were always supportive of her for speaking out and following her own path. That shaped the person she became – one unafraid to step out of line when she thought it necessary; one who could write about what she truly saw around her. "Everything I want to do," she said, "I make sure to do."
Mushtaq’s work challenges hierarchies in literature and society. She says, "[When I started writing], the majority of writers were men from the dominant caste. Almost all the literature was created by them... They didn’t write about women because they had no idea what Muslim women’s lives were like." Her stories come from this exclusion, and they give us sophisticated, emotionally rich pictures of women that we don't often see in Kannada or, for that matter, even Indian literature.
Her writing style is intentionally raw, allowing for pain, dignity, and resistance to surface without embellishment. These stories feel not just written but lived.
Sherwani asked Mushtaq about the present socio-political state of India, and the marginalisation of Muslim people from public life. Mushtaq said that while that was true, she also noted some positive developments in society. "There used to be no brotherhood. But look, today that’s not happening... I think Muslim people need to explain themselves a bit more... The truth needs to be spoken. But politics always starts from home."
"People need to be aware. But there should be some political awareness among Muslims. That’s what’s needed."
Mushtaq said, though, that it was important to note she wrote some of the stories in Heart Lamp as long ago as 1990; it was only the English translations that were published last year. Today, she added, perhaps the focus of her writings too would shift along with what she sees are the pressing concerns around her – the exclusion of Muslims and the threats of violence against them
The event came to a close with a powerful statement from Noorail Khan, a video editor at The Wire who delivered the vote of thanks, “She walked through fire and comes out stronger. From everything I see, I’m taking away that if I can’t fight patriarchy with muscle power, I can always make fun of them. We should all try to be extraordinary daughters like her instead of just obedient ones. To Banu Mushtaq, thank you for reminding us the lamp doesn’t need to be loud, it only needs to stay lit.”
This article went live on July twenty-seventh, two thousand twenty five, at fifty-eight minutes past eight in the morning.The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.
