Banu Mushtaq: A Literary Voice Forged in Resistance and Rootedness
In a remarkable literary career defined by resistance, rootedness, and unflinching honesty, Banu Mushtaq has consistently wielded her pen as a powerful instrument of social intervention. The 77-year-old writer, activist, and Booker Prize laureate has not only become one of the most compelling voices in contemporary Kannada literature but has also placed Karnataka firmly on the global literary map. In a recent interview, she reflected on her work with a profound sense of purpose rather than personal triumph, stating her greatest pride lies in giving voice to the often unheard.
Why Women's Stories Must Be Told Relentlessly
"When I look back at my work in writing and social activism, I feel proud that I have had the opportunity to be a voice for the oppressed," Banu Mushtaq declares. For her, writing has never been a solitary artistic pursuit; it has always been a profound responsibility. "I believe we must continue to write about women because, for centuries, they have been underprivileged in a patriarchal society, and they continue to be so even today," she explains.
She observes that while society recognizes the oppression of women, very little substantive action is taken to address it. "In fact, the oppression of women is becoming increasingly institutionalized. That is precisely why we must keep writing about their realities," she asserts. This conviction is deeply rooted in the socio-political climate that shaped her formative years as a writer.
Banu began writing at the age of 29, during a period of intense ideological churn and vibrant cultural activism in Karnataka. "Back then, writing was deeply experiential," she recalls. "There were numerous social movements unfolding around us." Kannada literature itself was undergoing a significant transformation—shifting from Navya (modernism) to Bandaya (rebellion). The emergence of theatre groups like Samudaya, which focused on social causes, and cultural programs centered on pressing issues profoundly influenced her work.
"All of this shaped our writing," she says, adding that if she were starting her literary journey today, the influence might not have been the same. "I don't think my work would have evolved in the same way had I begun now. There seems to be less space for human values today," she reflects with concern.
The Power of Staying Rooted: Why Local Is Global
Despite the changing literary and social landscape, Banu Mushtaq's advice to aspiring writers remains clear and unwavering: stay rooted in your origins. "If I were to offer advice to young writers who want their work to reach people from all walks of life, I would tell them to remain grounded in their soil," she emphasizes.
Recalling her experience of receiving the prestigious Booker Prize, she highlights a phrase that resonated deeply with her: "The organizers used the phrase 'Local is global,' and I completely agree. Literature that preserves its local dialects, voices, emotions, and cultural authenticity leaves a powerful impact on readers, no matter where they are in the world."
In an era increasingly dominated by digital media, Banu remains skeptical about the transformative power of fleeting social media trends. "Reels, videos, and social media cannot bring about social change in the way literature can," she states firmly. She points out that meaningful awareness about serious issues is rarely raised through such platforms, contrasting this with the enduring labor of literature.
"Someone may go viral overnight, but that fame fades just as quickly. Literature works differently. It does not create sudden fame or instant change. It demands sustained effort over years, but its impact is deep and long-lasting," she explains, underscoring the timeless value of literary work.
Bengaluru's Enduring Contribution to Kannada Literature
Banu Mushtaq first arrived in Bengaluru at the age of 22, accompanying her father after spotting a newspaper announcement for an announcer's position at All India Radio. "I was called for an interview, and that was my first experience of the city," she recalls. While Bengaluru may not have defined her personal life, she acknowledges its immense contribution to Kannada literature.
"When I travel abroad and introduce myself, I often say I am from a town four hours away from Bengaluru, as not many people recognize Hassan," she notes. She observes that many Kannada authors and poets, though originally from different parts of the state, have settled in Bengaluru for work. "People from various fields—education, arts, sports, and more—have also contributed significantly to Kannada literature," she points out.
She believes the ongoing debate around the Kannada language in Bengaluru stems from a fear of losing the city's unique identity. However, she firmly rejects the notion that cosmopolitanism erases cultural roots. "It is incorrect to say that Bengaluru has lost its identity because of its cosmopolitan nature. The city still retains its originality, tranquillity, and cultural depth," she asserts.
Unlike other metropolitan areas that can feel transactional, Banu believes Bengaluru continues to offer a genuine sense of belonging. "There is still a feeling of calling it 'Namma Ooru' (our city), regardless of where one comes from. What Hassan means to me is what Bengaluru represents for many others," she concludes, celebrating the city's inclusive literary spirit.
