In the very short time that Prajwal Parajuly (The Gurkha’s Daughter, Land Where I Flee) has been a writer – he has been on the literary scene for a little over two years – he has become one of the most international of Indian writers. That means, among other things, participating in close to 30 literary festivals, some of them in places as unexpected or far-flung as Kenya, Sri Lanka, Morocco and South Africa. The number doesn’t include his non-festival-related book events. What’s life at literary festivals like?
So, your favourite Indian literary festival?
Has to be the Jaipur Literature festival.
I was hoping you’d say something else.
The Times of India Literary Carnival in Bombay was a close second.
Why Jaipur?
The energy, the crowds, the parties, the palace hotels, the drama. This will be the most important literary festival in the world in a few years. Jaipur is Jaipur is Jaipur.
The worst festival you’ve attended?
Yikes. It wouldn’t be very gracious to name it, but this festival was horrible, and the organiser still has no idea how bad it was. No apology came our way.
That’s no fun. What’s your favourite international festival?
Hands down the Gibraltar International Festival.
What’s so great about it?
It’s an intimate festival, spectacularly organised and really, really, really luxurious.
Luxury, eh? Business-class travel and all that?
Among other things. Partners flown in. Fantastic dinners cooked by world-renowned chefs. I am shallow that way.
I’ve watched a few of your festival videos. At the Time of the Writer Festival in Durban, South Africa, you say some interesting things. My favourite was your reply when the moderator asked you about the Indian elections: “It makes me very, very nervous. It really does. The forerunners for the position of prime minister are A) the scion of the Gandhi-Nehru family, Rahul Gandhi, who has the smartness of a box of pu**c hair and B) Narendra Modi, who supposedly has Hitler’s morals.” How do these comments come about?
When you’re stupid. I don’t prepare for festivals, I don’t take notes. Often, I don’t even know what I am supposed to talk about. I say silly things.
Yes, you also have a reputation for saying things like, “I don’t know what the hell I am talking about.”
Because I don’t. I was asked to say something about the narrative voice recently, so, of course, I went off on a tangent, losing my train of thought, which I often do, until I realised I had no clue what I was talking about.
How does one attend so many festivals?
I am a full-time writer. I don’t have babies and don’t ever plan on having them.
No, I mean how does one get invited?
I have no clue.
Does saying controversial things help? A journal recently referred to you as a “festival darling.”
I think I am the least controversial writer out there. I shy away from controversy. There have been many sessions during which I have said no more than a hundred words because I was afraid something I’d say would be controversial.
But didn’t you say something about poetry being the most insincere form of literature at a festival in Kathmandu?
What I meant was that in South Asian countries, amateur writers often write poetry because they think they do not have to adhere to rules grammar and punctuation the way they do in prose. Poetry is an easy way out. Everyone thinks of himself or herself as a poet once Facebook bestows 700 likes on their atrocious poems. It’s a dangerous phenomenon – this being tricked into believing you’re a poet because your friends “like” your drivel. You splinter sentences oddly and punctuate stupidly, and you have a poem is what people think. That’s where my comment came from. I made the comment on Live TV. There wasn’t enough time to explain.
We didn’t see you at many festivals these past few months.
I promised myself I wouldn’t attend any lit fest between November 18 and March 18.
Why?
I had a writer-in-residence position in France. I didn’t want to travel.
That leads me to the next question. You are constantly travelling. When do you write?
If I sit down to write, which I do after months of doing nothing/travelling/whoring myself out, I do nothing else. That’s how I get my books written.
What festival are you off to next?
The Oxford Literature Festival. I am in conversation with Madhur Jaffrey. It will be a blast.
I saw on the festival’s website that it’s one of a handful of their featured events.
How nice of them.
You’ve said in a Times of India interview that every town in India should have a literary festival.
I have. It’s good to see people get excited about books, about authors. How many lit fests are there in India? More than a hundred now? Ha, ha. Good times. A few of these festivals will be horrible – that’s for sure.
How do you decide which festival to attend and which to turn down?
A number of factors: is the place beautiful? Have I been there before? How many of my friends are attending? Will there be many reunions? Are there any financial benefits to me? When I started, I’d say yes to all festivals. These days, I pick and choose.
You didn’t mention career advancement.
One doesn’t attend festivals to advance one’s career. At least, I don’t think so.
Favourite festival session that you have been a part of?
There was a very lively session at the Colomboscope in Sri Lanka with Shyam Selvaduri and Abbas Khider about conflict and literature. It was interesting because these two writers had been through a lot – having to leave Sri Lanka and Iraq. I had no clue what I was doing there, but our discussion was fantastic, and I didn’t want the session to end. I also had a great session at the Storymoja Festival in Nairobi, Kenya, with two interviewers, Dado Nagy and Doreen Baingana, who knew more about my books than I did. It made for a very stimulating discussion.
And the worst session you’ve been a part of?
Hmm. At the Jaipur Literature Festival in South Bank, London (the festival had its first edition in London last year), I was in a debate about politics and dynasty. Used to Oxford’s structured debating system, I followed the motion to a T, little realising how freewheeling debates at the JLF are. It was hilarious. I maybe said a total of three words. I hope no video of the debate surfaces.
The most interesting session you haven’t been a part of?
Oh, this was interesting for all the wrong reasons. At the Times of India Bangalore Carnival, Jeet Thayil, Lavanya Sankaran and Rana Dasgupta were on a panel together with a moderator from hell. It was hilarious. I am surprised they didn’t just storm off the stage.
Would you have attended so many festivals if you weren’t a full-time writer?
Probably not.
Will you ever stop attending festivals?
When they get dull and I get tired of flying.
You must have a lot of frequent-flier miles.
Oh, yes, I accrue a lot of miles. Thank god for them.
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So, your favourite Indian literary festival?
Has to be the Jaipur Literature festival.
I was hoping you’d say something else.
The Times of India Literary Carnival in Bombay was a close second.
Why Jaipur?
The energy, the crowds, the parties, the palace hotels, the drama. This will be the most important literary festival in the world in a few years. Jaipur is Jaipur is Jaipur.
The worst festival you’ve attended?
Yikes. It wouldn’t be very gracious to name it, but this festival was horrible, and the organiser still has no idea how bad it was. No apology came our way.
That’s no fun. What’s your favourite international festival?
Hands down the Gibraltar International Festival.
What’s so great about it?
It’s an intimate festival, spectacularly organised and really, really, really luxurious.
Luxury, eh? Business-class travel and all that?
Among other things. Partners flown in. Fantastic dinners cooked by world-renowned chefs. I am shallow that way.
I’ve watched a few of your festival videos. At the Time of the Writer Festival in Durban, South Africa, you say some interesting things. My favourite was your reply when the moderator asked you about the Indian elections: “It makes me very, very nervous. It really does. The forerunners for the position of prime minister are A) the scion of the Gandhi-Nehru family, Rahul Gandhi, who has the smartness of a box of pu**c hair and B) Narendra Modi, who supposedly has Hitler’s morals.” How do these comments come about?
When you’re stupid. I don’t prepare for festivals, I don’t take notes. Often, I don’t even know what I am supposed to talk about. I say silly things.
Yes, you also have a reputation for saying things like, “I don’t know what the hell I am talking about.”
Because I don’t. I was asked to say something about the narrative voice recently, so, of course, I went off on a tangent, losing my train of thought, which I often do, until I realised I had no clue what I was talking about.
How does one attend so many festivals?
I am a full-time writer. I don’t have babies and don’t ever plan on having them.
No, I mean how does one get invited?
I have no clue.
Does saying controversial things help? A journal recently referred to you as a “festival darling.”
I think I am the least controversial writer out there. I shy away from controversy. There have been many sessions during which I have said no more than a hundred words because I was afraid something I’d say would be controversial.
But didn’t you say something about poetry being the most insincere form of literature at a festival in Kathmandu?
What I meant was that in South Asian countries, amateur writers often write poetry because they think they do not have to adhere to rules grammar and punctuation the way they do in prose. Poetry is an easy way out. Everyone thinks of himself or herself as a poet once Facebook bestows 700 likes on their atrocious poems. It’s a dangerous phenomenon – this being tricked into believing you’re a poet because your friends “like” your drivel. You splinter sentences oddly and punctuate stupidly, and you have a poem is what people think. That’s where my comment came from. I made the comment on Live TV. There wasn’t enough time to explain.
We didn’t see you at many festivals these past few months.
I promised myself I wouldn’t attend any lit fest between November 18 and March 18.
Why?
I had a writer-in-residence position in France. I didn’t want to travel.
That leads me to the next question. You are constantly travelling. When do you write?
If I sit down to write, which I do after months of doing nothing/travelling/whoring myself out, I do nothing else. That’s how I get my books written.
What festival are you off to next?
The Oxford Literature Festival. I am in conversation with Madhur Jaffrey. It will be a blast.
I saw on the festival’s website that it’s one of a handful of their featured events.
How nice of them.
You’ve said in a Times of India interview that every town in India should have a literary festival.
I have. It’s good to see people get excited about books, about authors. How many lit fests are there in India? More than a hundred now? Ha, ha. Good times. A few of these festivals will be horrible – that’s for sure.
How do you decide which festival to attend and which to turn down?
A number of factors: is the place beautiful? Have I been there before? How many of my friends are attending? Will there be many reunions? Are there any financial benefits to me? When I started, I’d say yes to all festivals. These days, I pick and choose.
You didn’t mention career advancement.
One doesn’t attend festivals to advance one’s career. At least, I don’t think so.
Favourite festival session that you have been a part of?
There was a very lively session at the Colomboscope in Sri Lanka with Shyam Selvaduri and Abbas Khider about conflict and literature. It was interesting because these two writers had been through a lot – having to leave Sri Lanka and Iraq. I had no clue what I was doing there, but our discussion was fantastic, and I didn’t want the session to end. I also had a great session at the Storymoja Festival in Nairobi, Kenya, with two interviewers, Dado Nagy and Doreen Baingana, who knew more about my books than I did. It made for a very stimulating discussion.
And the worst session you’ve been a part of?
Hmm. At the Jaipur Literature Festival in South Bank, London (the festival had its first edition in London last year), I was in a debate about politics and dynasty. Used to Oxford’s structured debating system, I followed the motion to a T, little realising how freewheeling debates at the JLF are. It was hilarious. I maybe said a total of three words. I hope no video of the debate surfaces.
The most interesting session you haven’t been a part of?
Oh, this was interesting for all the wrong reasons. At the Times of India Bangalore Carnival, Jeet Thayil, Lavanya Sankaran and Rana Dasgupta were on a panel together with a moderator from hell. It was hilarious. I am surprised they didn’t just storm off the stage.
Would you have attended so many festivals if you weren’t a full-time writer?
Probably not.
Will you ever stop attending festivals?
When they get dull and I get tired of flying.
You must have a lot of frequent-flier miles.
Oh, yes, I accrue a lot of miles. Thank god for them.