Mahesh Rao’s third book and second novel, Polite Society, has been released to largely critical acclaim. It is Rao’s take on the Jane Austen classic, Emma, and makes some incisive observations about life in Lutyens’s Delhi. Like the lives of his protagonists, Rao keeps things classily quiet.
His consistent social media presence notwithstanding, Rao manages to remain on the slightly elusive side of public attention. He spoke to Scroll.in about his new book, his literary career, and the man behind the author picture on the book jacket.
A short probe into your past reveals that you grew up in Nairobi and studied and worked in the UK. Yet your instinct for and understanding of all things Indian is extraordinary. When did you start living in India and how did you catch up?
I moved to India about ten years ago, although I visited almost every year through my childhood and during the early years of adulthood. But obviously, being dragged around the houses of relatives and being cautioned about the perils of street food is a very different proposition from making your life in a country. I have been catching up ever since and am still catching up.
It soon became obvious to me that there are sound reasons for the dread and suspicion with which the NRI is often viewed: the crude assumptions, the lack of knowledge, the endless bloviating. But it’s not just the NRI. There continues to exist among many sections of privileged Indian society a steadfast unwillingness to acknowledge many of the realities of life in this country.
You are a trained lawyer. In an alternate universe, would you have been still be dreaming of writing while dragging your feet to work, because…bills!
In an alternate universe, I would still be making up stories in my head while miserably failing all my clients.
When did the romance with writing start? Tell us about that first nudge, or the lightning strike, as the case may have been.
I’ve always considered myself to be a reader first, and some distance after that, a writer. I read a description recently of people becoming writers because all the words they had absorbed had to spill out by necessity. This feels substantially true, in my case. But my first attempts were at an early age, when I was about 12, and like all honourable attempts at art, they were motivated by rage.
Essentially, I was furious at not being cast in juicy parts in school plays; I could usually be found in the third row of a chorus of animals or standing motionless, limbs festooned with foliage. So I wrote my own play, cast myself in the best part and gave myself the funniest lines. When the play was performed to what I then considered great acclaim, I realised that writing was agency.
Your first novel, The Smoke Is Rising looked at the conflict between tradition and modernity. Was it in some way a reflection of your experiences as you returned to India after years abroad?
Part of the inspiration was the rather prosaic but crucial issue of compulsory land acquisition. When I arrived here, some aspect of the issue seemed to be simmering away in almost every newspaper or news bulletin. But it had become white noise. Many of us were not affected by it, despite being in some way complicit, and it was all too easy to ignore.
Related to this were the stereotypical representations of the conflict between tradition and modernity here – and how to look at these frictions in a more nuanced way. India is often described as a “country of contrasts”, which of course it is, but much of this comes from the fact that the visual drama of India’s particular modernity seems to be superficially very appealing.
So a few years ago we would see a steady stream of images of sadhus with mobile phones, or, say, bullock carts transporting spacecraft components. And then the focus would move on. But the more interesting and specific stories resulting from the changes in the economy and in society would often get lost in the churn. That is what I wanted to look at in the novel.
Similarly, One Point Two Billion – a short story collection – seems like your journey of getting to know India better. Where did the inspiration for such incredibly diverse stories come from?
There were a whole range of sparks – unusual phrases, striking images, family reminiscences, snatches of overheard conversations. It took a while but each of the following eventually ended up in the service of a short story: an anecdote about a man peeking at his daughter-in-law through the bathroom window; a magazine article about female Christian preachers in Punjab; a YouTube video taken in a Salwa Judum camp; a throwaway line of dialogue about a soft drink in the TV show Mad Men; the reverberation of many yoga conversations in Mysore cafes; a series of photographs of young wrestlers in an akhara in UP.
Your first two works are quintessentially Indian; rooted, as they say. Polite Society, though based in India, is so Austenian, it smells of the West. Was the shift in gaze purposeful?
I would have to disagree. “Quintessentially Indian” is an extremely wide remit. It is true that the Khuranas who are at the heart of this novel would certainly consider themselves to be a Westernised, cosmopolitan family who belong to a global elite, unconstrained by national boundaries, at home in various world capitals as a result of their wealth and socio-cultural capital. But the novel also deals with their position as arbiters of social standing in Delhi, the complex codes of their class, and the way in which they control access to sources of patronage and favour. To my mind, nothing could be more Indian.
And one would have to ask: why Jane Austen?
It has to be said that adaptations of Jane Austen are not new. She has inspired writers and filmmakers all over the world for years and there are all kinds of ancillary Austen industries that continue to burgeon. More specifically, in the Indian context, Gurinder Chadha made Bride and Prejudice way back in 2004.
The genius of Austen is irresistible and many of her themes lend themselves so generously to a contemporary Indian retelling. Money, marriage and social mobility cast deep shadows among Delhi’s elite society too. There is also a great pleasure in trying to unpick her work and use it in a modern setting. Virginia Woolf said about Austen “that of all great writers she is the most difficult to catch in the act of greatness”. Any adaptation therefore becomes an act of deep reflection on her sentences and technique.
What was the first Austen work you remember reading and which one are you most partial to?
The first Austen novel I read was Pride and Prejudice at the age of 17 and I remember being captivated by it. There was a strange sense of discovery even though it is one of the most famous novels ever written, simply because it was not a classic that we were studying in school: it was my own private obsession. My favourites are Emma for its dazzling plot and artistry, and Persuasion for its emotional impact.
Your observations of the Lutyens’s elite are so bitingly accurate that one would think there was more to it than just your craft, that you’d lived among and as one of them. Did you? At least for some time?
I think they manage to sniff out an interloper pretty quickly, so I certainly did not live among them. But as a result of the privileges of my education and some of the work I’ve done, I’ve been able to loiter at the margins and get a good look. Being a bit of an outsider in India, and particularly in Delhi, is tremendously useful in this sense. You’re rewarded with a measure of invisibility, which is exactly what you need.
Polite Society veers sharply off its original course in the final third, taking a dark, non-Austenian turn. Did the story decide to write itself or was it Mahesh Rao making sure it would not be remembered as just another adaptation?
I was led by the characters, as I always am. I am drawn especially to their flaws and weaknesses, and this took the book in a specific direction. Of course, it was also important to ensure that the novel did not read like some kind of parody. There is absolutely no point in trying to imitate or absorb the original into your own novel. Being inspired by a work involves many acts of forgetting and recontextualising in order to avoid a vastly inferior duplication. The challenge was always to reflect the truths of Emma but in a different style, time and setting – different enough to give the book its own identity.
It is not uncommon for a creator to fall in love with his creation(s). If you had to pick one Polite Society character to date, who would it be?
I would not date any of them. I have spent far too much time in their company already.
Jane Austen’s universality makes for easy inspiration and adaptability. But is there a particularly abstruse author who dares you to write like them?
There are so many writers who make me want to return to the page and try to get better each time. But the writer I probably turn to most often when I’m grasping at the wrong words is William Trevor. I have a copy of his Collected Stories that I consult repeatedly as though as it is an oracle. His writing has immense power in spite of its restraint and is able to show heartbreaking moments of transformation with great precision. For me, he will always be the archetype of an empathetic writer.
When do we see another book of short stories from you?
It takes me a long time to complete a short story. One of the stories in my published collection was worked on over a period of four years. At the moment I have a handful that are at various stages of development but I am a long way away from anything that can be called a collection.
You’re only three books old, but your trophy shelf is already quite populated. What does this acclaim mean to you?
It is lovely but fleeting and I think I would be well advised to remember that at all times.
What are your hopes for Polite Society – in terms of prizes and other things?
I am delighted that it has been published and I try to have few expectations beyond that.
What does Mahesh Rao do when he is not writing or putting up the most tasteful, sublime pictures on Instagram?
I mainly fret about all the writing that I am not doing.
