Indian writer Banu Mushtaq is the first Kannada language author to win the International Booker Prize, and her book “Heart Lamp” is also the first short story collection to do so.
“Heart Lamp” explores the lives of Muslim women in Southern India who struggle with poverty and patriarchy.
Host Asma Khalid speaks with Mushtaq and Deepa Bhasthi, who translated the book from Kannada to English. The pair share the prize; Bhasthi is the first Indian translator to win.
Book excerpt: ‘Heart Lamp’
By Banu Mushtaq, translated by Deepa Bhasthi
Naseema and Arifa were at a garments store. Mehaboob sat on a stool and was paying great attention to the furniture, the design of the false ceiling, the way the counters were built and so on. Nayaz Khan was roaming about, stopping before every store, staring at the things displayed in the showcases. Just as he went back and forth and was about to go to the shop where his family was, he felt as if someone had touched him very lightly on the back. That touch! Feeling as if it was the answer to some unending search within himself, he stood still for a minute. When he turned to see who it was, there was no one behind him. But then, just like that, the moment he turned back, in a giant showcase in front of him, among a pile of imported products . . . His heart missed a beat. He kept staring, wondering if it was a dream. The centre of his endless search that haunted him day and night, that which had grown roots in his dreams, in his heart – those shoes – there, in that showcase! Captivated, he stood still. Was it true? Was it false? Was this even possible?
He eventually recovered. The possibility of what had seemed impossible pierced his consciousness. He walked straight into the shop, but, unable to stand, he collapsed on a stool as if enchanted. He began to feel as if all the lights in the shop were focused on him, as if he was an extraordinary man. Fearing that someone else might get their hands on those shoes, he said, in a voice loud enough for the whole shop to hear, ‘Give me those high-heeled shoes.’
Mehaboob Khan turned to look when he heard his brother’s tone; Naseema was observing him too. Unmindful of all this, Nayaz Khan raised his voice even louder and called his wife. Having noticed Nayaz’s strange behaviour in front of her brother-in-law, Arifa came and stood quietly behind her husband. Nayaz had become very emotional. He suddenly got up, turned to his wife and told her, ‘Sit there, sit there.’ Arifa was confused when she saw where he was pointing. The decorative throne-like chair was made of thick glass planks; she worried that it might break if she sat on it. Although she wondered why he was acting so strangely, she said nothing. Nayaz took her hand excitedly, urgently, and made her sit on that throne. Arifa shrank into herself. Her fear that it might break increased. Those high-heeled shoes in the salesman’s hands, a husband who was not paying attention to anything, Mehaboob Khan gazing with empty eyes, and Naseema, trying very hard to control the amusement playing across her lips!
The salesman bent down, removed Arifa’s blue-strapped Hawaii chappals and put those shoes on her feet. The yellow metal buckle on the shoes shone like gold under the lights. But it was impossible for her feet to fit. Made for dainty-footed women, the shoes would not encompass her wide feet. Nayaz Khan was not disappointed. He sat
down and set about helping the salesman, and together they crammed his wife’s toes, with great difficulty, into the shoes. He pulled the thin, delicate strap around her heel and somehow managed to put it through the buckle. The salesman imitated him and tightened the strap on her other foot as well. Her heels struck out of the shoes quite a lot. They had cracked here and there; their black lines stood out all the more now. It was evident that she was so occupied with household work that she never paid any attention to her feet. She was used to wearing her husband’s Hawaii chappals without a care and walking about swiftly, comfortably. Now, when she saw the pointed heels on those shoes, she began to get scared.
The salesman looked at the pair of shoes that did not suit her in any way and hesitantly said, ‘Walk a little and see, madam.’ She got up very carefully. Somehow, she managed to stand upright. She was forced to take one slow step after another to move forward. By this time Nayaz Khan had already run to the counter, counted out notes and got a bill made. There was no limit to Naseema’s amusement. She folded her arms to her chest, and encouragingly told Arifa, ‘Hmm, walk now, my dear, take one step after the other, let’s see.’ She suppressed the waves of mockery that were rising within her, soon failed, and balloons of laughter began to burst forth not just from her lips, but also her entire face.
Stumbling, half out of fear and half out of shyness, Arifa realised that there was no way out; although she was fuming in her heart at her husband’s extremely strange behaviour, she began to practise walking on the beautiful carpet. At that moment she did not have a choice. But she began to realise that walking was impossible. After a few steps, she came back and told the salesman, ‘Look here, pack these shoes,’ and glanced around for her Hawaii chappals. Where were they? Nayaz Khan had already had them packed and was waiting for her outside the shop. Arifa’s eyes filled with tears.
Extract from ‘Heart Lamp’ by Banu Mushtaq, translated by Deepa Bhasthi, published by And Other Stories.
This article was originally published on WBUR.org.
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