Kannada writer Banu Mushtaq’s book of short stories, translated by Deepa Bhasthi, has been longlisted for this year’s International Booker Prize. A first for both, it is especially exciting since this is Mushtaq’s maiden appearance in English translation. Bhasthi has previously translated a collection of short stories by Kodagina Gouramma – whose feminist sensibilities struck a chord with readers.
Forthcoming in April 2025 by And Other Stories in the UK and Penguin Random House in India, Banu Mushtaq’s discovery should be a celebration for the English language reader. In Heart Lamp: Selected Stories, Bhasthi picks twelve short stories to introduce Mushtaq to a new readership. While the focus is concentrated on the injustices against women predominantly through faith and societal structures, one also discerns the first stirrings of rebellion just under the surface. It is inevitable, the promise is ripe, but one must wait till the tipping point is reached.
Woman, life, freedom
In each story, Mushtaq builds the tension before it becomes unbearable for her characters and readers. The women are aware that there’s something missing in their lives, though they are not fully aware of the extent of their subjugation. Most are confined within the four walls of their house – only one story features a working woman – and their lives are designed to take care of their husband and children. In some cases, the husbands are shown to be “nice” and “loving” and yet they lack an understanding of autonomy, especially when it comes to a woman’s body.
In Mushtaq’s world, the roles of the provider and the carer are strictly gendered – no breach is allowed. And some of the men do provide – they earn enough to raise their several children but are completely blind to the agonies of their wives. As long as the children have clothes on their backs and food in their bellies, there should be no rightful objection to pregnancy. No matter how tedious or even life-threatening it might be.
Almost every story also advocates strongly for reproductive rights. From semi-educated men to useless louts, their wives know just how much better their lives could be if they were to get the “surgery” done. Men are staunchly against using contraceptives (it has something to do with their interpretation of the Qu’ran) so women have no choice but to take matters into their own hands. Even so, the men are discouraging of the procedure lest their virility come into question. Time and again they remind their wives, that a new baby is welcome for as long as the father is able to provide for it.
Misplaced machismo and false acts of generosity come at a heavy price to the women as we see in the opening story, “Stone Slabs for Shaista Mahal”. Sometimes, the women lash out. There’s only so much you can tolerate uncomplainingly. In the final line of “Black Cobra”, one of my favourites in the collection, a woman gives it back with style to her husband when he does nothing to put an end to the cruelty inflicted on a new mother by her drinking-womanising husband.
In addition to an insatiable sexual appetite, the men are also given to marry at whim and cheat their sisters and daughters of their rightful inheritance. Mushtaq reminds the reader that Islam has made ample provisions for a woman’s financial security but the men have twisted the teaching of the holy book to suit their fancy. The permission to marry four times is seen by the man as a “duty” that he is only too happy to oblige. In his hands, it becomes a foolproof method to extract dowry, neglect the older wives, and be philandering in his ways. “Fire Rain” and “A Decision of the Heart” are scathing criticisms of these practices.
Located away from the urban setups of Bengaluru, the families in these stories coexist with each other among cramped spaces and opposing mindsets. It is, therefore, not unusual for a wife to think of her husband’s mother as a rival or co-sisters to be jealous of each other. “A Decision of the Heart” is a delightful story about a man who is determined to get his widowed mother married if only to spite his quarrelsome wife. In “High-Heeled Shoe,” a young man becomes inexplicably attracted to his sister-in-law’s high-heeled shoes and desires a similar pair for his wife – never mind that she is heavily pregnant and has never worn anything besides her husband’s Hawaii slippers.
Come ye faithful
In “Soft Whispers”, a woman recalls her childhood with a local boy and their budding friendship. A clerical position at the mosque changes him as an adult – a person, who she can no longer recognise. The taste of sweet soda makes an elderly woman feel “intoxicated” and she becomes hooked to it – a small sliver of happiness in a long life of hardship makes for an endearing subject in “A Taste of Heaven.” A story that left me in splits was “The Arabic Teacher and Gobi Manchuri”. A young man gives Arabic lessons to girls under the ruse of finding a wife for himself. The only condition – she must know how to cook his favourite dish, gobi manchuri. When he finally does find the woman of his dreams, she’ll learn she has signed up for a lifetime of nightmares.
The spirit of the faithful is indomitable – no pain physical or emotional can crush it. When a woman is entrusted to look after 18 children during the summer vacations, she decides the only way to rein in the chaos is to have the boys circumcised. A mass event is organised where even the poor of the village can get their sons circumcised for free. A test of faith ensues when the wounds of the well-to-do boys of the woman’s family get infected while a poor man’s son bounces back to perfect health without any medical aid. This story, “Red Lungi” first appeared in The Paris Review and was my introduction to Mushtaq.
In the titular story “Heart Lamp”, a woman is left to her fate when her husband leaves home to bring a new wife. Their grown children or long years of togetherness mean nothing to him. Now, he is hungry for a young woman who in addition to giving him more children will, more importantly, provide him with a handsome dowry. The myriad of horrors aside, this is also a moving story about a daughter’s love for her mother and the deep, unbreakable bond they share. The final scene is especially poignant.
The collection fittingly closes with “Be a Woman Once, Oh Lord!”. An ailing woman takes up the matter with god who seems to be blind to her sufferings. “The nib of my red ink-filled heart has broken”, she says and warns him that an “inexperienced potter” like him need not build the world again. Her complaints are met with a rude silence.
In one story, a male character remarks, “If you who squats to pee has this much arrogance, how much arrogance should I, who stands to piss, have?” A tiring amount I learnt by the end.
The strong influence of Mushtaq’s work as an activist and lawyer is evident in her writing. Bhasthi writes she is a “bandaya”, a rebel. The men in Mushtaq’s fiction are small creatures. They are overshadowed by greed, lust, and anger. An implosive cocktail. Sometimes, the best revenge, Mushtaq explains, is to let them perish in the hell of their own making.
Bhasthi’s translator’s notes illuminate her choices of doing away with italics and footnotes, and the style she adopted for translating the stories. It makes for a fascinating peek into a translator’s mind. She retains the musicality of the language and the identity-related quirks of the characters. However, at times, some of the more literal translations make for small awkward bumps in an otherwise smooth ride.
Heart Lamp: Selected Stories, Banu Mushtaq, translated from the Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi, Penguin India.
