‘I’m interested in the overheard, misheard, or noticed things’

You grew up in Mumbai. Do you still have a connection with the city?
It’s a city that I arrive into thinking of the roads that I have travelled thousands of times, but also look upon it as a ghost because I have no place here. Also, living in Kolkata has in some ways made it clear to me how much I was formed by Bombay. Some of the most egalitarian writers I look up to are from here, such as Nissim Ezikiel and Arun Kolatkar.
The Bombay I grew up in wasn’t so much connected with power or money. It was then a socialistic state, so there was only so much money one would have. But some things used to put me off as well, like the emphasis on English. As someone who had learnt about the richness of Bengali at home, I realised there was no recognition of this whatsoever in Bombay. People who spoke in Marathi were called vernacular — a word that’s been turned into a term of mockery.

How, then, didn’t Bengali become your language as a writer?
To do so, one should know the language well. I didn’t learn Bengali at school; at home I learnt it only fitfully. There was, however, a point before I went to the UK to study when I started to learn it seriously from a private tutor. I also started writing prose and poems, but then I left for the UK and that stopped.
What language you should write in is also a red herring. I believe people are bilingual just as they are creative in more than one form. But different languages close down certain opportunities and open others. I suppose, I would write differently in Bengali than in English because you become a different person when you speak in a different language.

How did you retain strong roots with your culture, which forms a large part of your writings?
My parents contributed to that. My father remained grounded despite his success in the corporate world and my mother, who is a musician, is now being recognised as a significant singer of Rabindranath Tagore’s songs. At 15, I didn’t understand modern European poets but I had this love for modern poetry, which I didn’t realise at the time. I also felt angry with the way English was the sole marker of educational sophistication in the city and of wealth in the ’70s. These are some of the ideas that formed me and I reacted against.

How do you switch between being a writer and a musician, and how do you submit to each with honesty?
I was quickly drawn to writing as a child because it was concurrent with education, literally so. I was very unhappy in school. When I was in kindergarten, my parents would speak to me in Bangla and I spoke in Hindi to the help.
It was at Cathedral that I learnt English through comics and Ladybird books. As for music, I started learning guitar and Western pop in the early years. By 16, I was learning Hindustani classical. My impulses have been fitful and I have surrendered to each. The whole business of becoming a professional novelist was an anathema to me. I won’t be happy sticking to one form.