Sriram Karri’s Autobiography of a Mad Nation is built around the president of India’s request to his friend, Dr M Vidyasagar – a retired CBI chief – to investigate whether Vikrant Vaidya, who has been sentenced to death for killing his teenage neighbour Iqbal, is truly guilty or not. A breakneck ride with twists and turns through disasters, riots and political agendas, the novel makes readers wonder about someone’s sanity – the country’s, or their own. Excerpts from an interview with the writer.

What led you to this book?
The novel was always playing in my mind – and the possibility of its getting written was an inspiration in itself. A grand canvas where India is not just the setting but also a kind of large character, coming in and going out sporadically, in a phantasmagorical interplay with the other characters, a sort of the great Indian novel. The coming together of the theme and plot with a strong structure took a while.

At one level, it was an answer to Midnight’s Children from the children of the generation of the Emergency  – where the midnight degenerated from the hour of freedom to the hour of illegal arrests and death of democracy. At another level, it was a plot about a group of friends who operate on EM Forster’s famous line – if I had to choose between betraying my country or a friend, I hope to have the courage to betray my country. 

Didn’t you at any point wonder whether the book might be banned?
The pen operates under the shadow of the gun. We live in our own fears – books get burned, they get banned, authors and thinkers are threatened, even killed. Every art and artist in India has such a context of fear. The test of true inspiration is that it brings with it a courage you never suspected yourself of possessing. You write the book because it has chosen you to write it. Every audience interaction I had has this question – are you not afraid? What if they ban you? I hope it reaches enough people before such a thing happens, but I do hope it never happens to me.

Are you planning a sequel?
No. They joy of creating an entire context, a style and language, new devices, a whole new set of characters is a joy without parallel. I would have to operate under lots of givens if I extended this book. A reader even suggested a sequel title – Autobiography of a Modi Nation. In that sense, I am very unfaithful. I am already in love with another idea and its hold over me is complete. 

One thing that struck me while reading the book was the constant attempt to balance between positivity and the pragmatic view.
This dynamic contradiction is the quality of India. Every view, as a famous adage goes, you have of India which is true – its opposite also holds true. There has not been a single day in my life as an Indian when I have not had to love and dislike my country at the same time. We are like a paraphrased version of Dickens’s famed opening lines – the best of countries, the worst of countries; a nation of hope, a nation of doom; a society of hatred and divisions, a society of love and embraces. 

How did the character of Sagar develop in your head and transfer himself to paper?
After the plot was set in my mind, I realised that I had the second and third parts ready. I needed a launching phase for the rocket. I wanted to push the core to the back, and decided to bring it back as a flashback. The first part of the book therefore had to set the context to open the novel; a serial murder mystery that would follow. So the trio was created: a young boy awaiting the death sentence but not willing to accept mercy; a people’s president set to demit office but very inclined to settle this matter; and a friend of his, a retired CBI chief who must advise his friend the president whether to let Vikrant hang or not. It took very little time to create; they sprung up very naturally and grew into very strong personalities on paper.

Vikrant Vaidya is a very angry character. Why?
Ideally, Vikrant should not be very angry. He is young, has a very intelligent and creative mind and can achieve a lot. He is capable of taking risks. He is very positive. But he is playing a role, pretending to be someone he is not – and here you know we are talking about an idealist, an older artist, an angry playwright named Anurag Yagnik, who has reasons to be this angry. This double-play was both fascinating and useful for depicting the dual nature of the country through a single person. The characters came angry and some made their peace, while some stayed angry till the end. I was merely enjoying the writing.

How much of a journalistic approach and experience came into play for this book
Almost none. The book was written with the view that it had to be read for a long while; its devices and techniques had to be suitable for this. Journalism is short-lived but seeks greatest and fastest impact. Often, it fishes on the surface, is dry and factual, and concerns itself with the very immediate. Books written with such an approach are not the kind I’d care to read to write.