IN the vibrant city of Chicago in the United States, nestled in the heart of the bustling metropolis, resides the acclaimed author Dipika Mukherjee, a modern storyteller weaving tales that transcend boundaries and delve into the fabric of our global existence.
But today, seated across from me in the tranquil confines of a local cafe not far from her home in leafy Taman Tun Dr Ismail, Kuala Lumpur, the mother of two, looking contentedly casual in a simple black top over a skirt, is just excited to be back in the country that she's called home for over two decades and share with me about her latest literary outing, Writer's Postcards.
Part travelogue, part memoir, and part commentary, the book is a collection of essays that examines imagination and culture through the lens of geography. A flaneuse and person of the world, the award-winning author of fiction and poetry takes readers through various encounters from her highly mobile life: the lugubrious literature of Brazil; the linguistic diversity in China and Tibet; meeting the Dalai Lama while travelling as a lone woman through New Delhi, and more, so much more.
"I loved doing this book because this is my first work of non-fiction essays," she shares, enthusiasm lacing her voice. Elaborating, the genial Gemini says: "When you write non-fiction, you really don't have a veil. You can't pretend that this is your character talking. It's really you writing that essay."
Her venture into non-fiction, as seen in Writer's Postcards, unveils a more intimate and vulnerable side of the author. The essays, she shares, were previously featured in publications such as News Week, Hemispheres and The Edge.
"It was both a little scary and also a thrilling to put myself out there," confides Dipika, eyes dancing under her dark-rimmed glasses. Adding thoughtfully, she says: "I think all authors have to have a certain amount of hubris… that people want to read what you have to say. More so because you're not sure that what you have to say is going to be interesting for the world. So, I'm really happy that most of the essays in there have been published already, that there's been other gatekeepers who've seen whether it's worth reading."
OF RESONANCE AND RECOGNITION
The genesis of Writer's Postcards traces back to an invitation from Diana Khoo of The Edge in 2017, beckoning Dipika to contribute a regular column. Rooted in travel yet deeply resonant with Malaysian sensibilities, her columns provided a unique perspective on diverse topics, from Rimbun Dahan (an artist residency in Kuang, Selangor) to the enchanting shores of Redang.
However, as the world grappled with the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, Dipika's writing took an unexpected turn. The cessation of physical newspapers and the freelance basis of her contributions to The Edge compelled her to redirect her focus towards the evolving landscape shaped by the pandemic. Her essays began to explore the nuances of the Covid-19 situation, intertwining personal experiences with global events.
Navigating the challenges posed by the pandemic, Dipika's essays found resonance and recognition in unexpected places. The temporal hiatus spurred by Covid-19 allowed her to reflect on her accumulated materials, ultimately leading to the conception of this latest book.
The journey from conceptualisation to publication was a meticulous process, taking approximately a year and a half. The author, a self-confessed global nomad, in collaboration with Nora from Penguin Southeast Asia, curated a collection that not only showcased her diverse essays, but also reflected the changing contours of the world post-pandemic.
The editorial journey involved sifting through materials, rearranging essays for a cohesive narrative, and ensuring the overarching scheme seamlessly captured the essence of her experiences.
Her grin broad, Dipika shares that she's currently immersed in crafting her third novel, a socio-political piece that, like her previous works, explores global issues within the framework of literary fiction. "It does have one Malaysian character in it!"
LOVE FOR STORYTELLING
As the conversation meanders through the intricate tapestry of the author's life, she fondly reminisces about her early influences, attributing the shaping of her identity to her father. A diplomat with a penchant for languages, he adorned the family's dining table with literary discussions, imbuing in his children a love for literature.
"He spoke multiple languages and studied Sanskrit to Masters level," recalls Dipika, continuing: "He was very good at Bengali literature as well, so very often he'd just throw out these quotes to me and my three brothers."
These discussions around the dining table, often punctuated with literary references, helped forge Dipika's love for storytelling. Expression soft, she proceeds to paint a picture of her father's gentle demeanour, before bursting into a hearty chuckle as she recalls moments when he scolded the children through literary references.
"He wouldn't shout or anything, but when he wanted to scold us, it'd be through these literary references that spoke of ungrateful children!" remembers Dipika, laughter slicing through the tranquillity of the cafe.
Her father, she continues, had a prodigious memory so he could remember English poetry, Bengali and Sanskrit. "I grew up thinking that was how everybody's father was," admits Dipika, adding that as she grew older, she realised how blessed she was. "Not only was my father like that, my eldest brother is also the same. Whenever I need a literary reference, I wouldn't even have to look far. I'd just call them!"
Beyond the intellectual richness provided by her father, who passed away a couple of years ago at the age of 94, there was also her beloved mother, who was married at a young age and faced the challenges of adapting to a new life in foreign lands, a stark contrast to her Calcutta upbringing.
"Mum got married at 18, so she actually never finished college — despite being in college. There's a 10-year age gap between them," shares Dipika, continuing: "There's a poem I wrote about their marriage which is online and in various places. It's about their arranged marriage. She had this major shock because she went from Calcutta with a huge joint family background, to just my father and her alone in these homes where nobody spoke her language."
Her father, continues Dipika, who's also a sociolinguist, was first posted to Bangkok, followed by Baghdad. "When they were in Baghdad, a coup happened. People were being lined up outside their house (because it was a diplomatic enclave) and shot because they wanted the whole world to know this was happening."
Her mother, now 86, was extremely strict, she remembers. "I resented being brought up differently from my brothers — just because I was a girl," reflects Dipika. Adding, she shares that her mother made it very clear that there were rules, which applied to her, but not to her brothers.
Recalls the writer: "We were living in Wellington, New Zealand, when I was between the ages of 10 and 14. I remember being a very rebellious teenager. My friends didn't have all these rules about talking to boys or having to abide to curfews. My brothers never had that!"
Despite the challenges, her mother's resilience and the unique blend of cultural experiences in Wellington, New Zealand, where the family resided for a significant period, fostered Dipika's growth as a writer. She found solace in the liberal environment, embracing her passion for literature under the guidance of supportive English teachers.
"I used to feel very different because I was this brown child in a very white school," remembers Dipika, continuing: "But because they (the teachers) would share my stories and read out my work, it made me feel special. And yes, English was my favourite subject at school!"
STAYING GROUNDED
Our conversation seamlessly transitions to the profound impact of her father's passing, an event intricately detailed in one of the essays within her book. The poignant reflection on his life and the enduring lessons he imparted resonate deeply with Dipika.
"My father lived through the partition of India," she shares, adding: "He had to start working when he was 14, as he had a huge family. His own father had passed away during this partition."
With a fond smile, Dipika vividly recalls her father's stoic approach to life, rooted in the realism he gained from his early struggles. His pragmatic perspective, especially during challenging times, left an indelible mark on her own view of the world.
The legacy of her father's groundedness serves as a constant reminder for Dipika to remain humble and appreciative of life's unpredictable nature. It's a perspective that grounds her, especially when faced with the transient nature of success and the need to stay authentic in a world increasingly dominated by external pressures.
TRICKS OF THE TRADE
Asked to talk about her commitment to nurturing literary excellence, Dipika's eyes light up. As an advocate for refining the craft of writing, she proceeds to express her concern about the lack of emphasis on editing among Malaysian writers.
"I'm glad you asked that!" she exclaims happily before continuing: "I think the biggest problem with Malaysian writers is that they're never taught how to edit. It's like, they'd sit and write — in a fit of brilliance, which we all do — but I think what makes a piece of work really lasting is the polishing of it."
Elaborating, she says: "I think when you're in the United States and the United Kingdom, you're taught that. You don't just send something out. You sit down and think about how the words can be better, and how it can be made briefer. You know, brevity is really wonderful. The kids out here are still not really taught that very seriously."
Truly in her element, Dipika continues: "I think with the coming of artificial intelligence (AI), anybody can write grammatically correct sentences, right? You can ask ChatGPT to do it. But what will make literature remarkable and sustainable as we go forward, is that we have to be better than the bots, which means that we have to think in ways that sparkle. Bots can't do that because they're not human."
Adding, she offers: "So things like editing, revising, re-writing — all these are skills are going to be more and more important. I think that's what I find most rewarding — sitting down with a group of people and just teaching them how to improve something that they already think is good but can be made excellent."
Shifting to her own multifaceted writing routine, the self-proclaimed night owl confides that for her, writing is a very meditative process. "When I'm really into it, sometimes it's dawn and I don't even realise it," she reveals, chuckling.
Her routine varies with the genre she's working on — poetry, essays, novels or short stories. Each demands a distinct approach, reflecting the eclectic nature of her literary endeavours. Dipika also highlights the intense nature of writing novels, often necessitating dedicated retreats where she can immerse herself entirely in the creative process.
RIGHT TO WRITE
The author beams when I ask her about her observations on the evolving literary landscape in Malaysia. According to Dipika, she's noticed a significant increase in the number of Malaysian voices emerging on the global stage, a trend she finds both encouraging and essential for the rich storytelling heritage of the country.
"Now I think there's an explosion of people writing," she observes, adding: "I'm seeing more Malaysian voices, which is wonderful. I love it because I still feel that Malaysian stories are not told in the way that it could be."
Reflecting on the global success of Malaysian authors, she expresses enthusiasm for the diverse narratives emerging from her adopted homeland. "But I still want to emphasise on the need for authenticity in storytelling, even as authors adapt their narratives to resonate with a broader audience."
Our lively conversation takes a nostalgic turn as Dipika shares her literary comfort zones, revealing a penchant for female writers and a diverse range of genres. From the underrated Indian novelist Anita Desai to the crime stories of New York Times bestselling author Tana French, to the works of Italian writer Elena Ferrante, Dipika's reading tastes traverse continents and genres.
Where does she like to do her writing, I ask the genial author, in between sips of lemon tea, before duly discovering that just like me, she's the lover of cafes and the subtle hum of white noise.
"I write the best in a cafe like this," she confides, adding: "I do need some white noise. Otherwise, I feel almost distracted to make the noise. I think for writers, that's so necessary — just to let things marinate in your head."
Beyond writing, the author, whose passions include swimming and cooking, expresses a desire to be remembered as a woman who traversed the world in her own skin as a brown woman, embracing solitude and totally at home wherever she may be in the world. Her legacy, she hopes, will extend beyond literature to embody a life well-lived.
Writer's Postcards
Author: Dipika Mukherjee
Publisher: Penguin Books
196 pages
Available in major bookstores.