The Penwalas: South Asian Storytellers in Atlanta

What do Anjali Enjeti, Ajay
Vishwanathan, Anju Gattani,
Kamla Dutt, Reetika Khanna
Nijhawan, Soniah
Kamal, Tinaz Pavri, and
Waqas Khwaja have in
common? They’re all published
writers, and they live in metro Atlanta. While
writing is an all-encompassing passion for some,
others juggle demanding jobs with the consuming need to tell
stories. Khabar talked to them to gain insights on how they transform
their dreams into words.

“Shakespeare wrote sonnets, so I decided I should try that, too,” says Waqas Khwaja about his early
inspirations to write. A professor of English at Agnes Scott College in Decatur, Georgia, Waqas had always been drawn to the written word. Growing up in Pakistan he would write poetry inspired by Wordsworth. The writer reminisces, “There was once a school assignment to write a poem. I remember the last two lines I wrote: ‘and suddenly the boat turned into the
water….’ I was searching for a rhyme, so I wrote, ‘and out in its place came an otter.’ My father reviewed my lines and suggested, ‘This is good, but how about ‘a smiling otter?’” Suddenly, the addition of the adjective ‘smiling’ made the poem so much more powerful!” Waqas’s early fascination with writing developed
over time and eventually found him writing poetry, translating Urdu works, and teaching literature. His first book of poems was published when he was 17: “mushy, romantic stuff that I got rid of by flinging
all the copies I had into a canal a few years later because I couldn’t bear the style any more!”

The call of the written word…
Waqas continued to write even while pursuing a career in law and later in the Pakistani civil service. But the call of the word was too powerful—so much
so that after some false starts at home, Waqas eventually moved to the U.S. to pursue a full-time academic career in literature.

Anjali Enjeti is working on a novel called The
Parted Earth. Also an essayist, with bylines in many publications, she has always loved words. “Some people can say they always knew that they were
writers,” Anjali notes. But not her. “I did enjoy writing…but I did not know that writing full-time as a career
existed or that it was something I could aspire to.” When maternity came knocking, after law school
and a full-time job, Anjali found herself reading voraciously but also writing small pieces––diversions that blossomed into a full-time pursuit.

Kamla Dutt (right), a geneticist by training and a short story writer in Hindi, moved to the U.S. in the 1960s for advanced graduate work. Kamla comes from a family of avid readers; her father “had a Master’s in English and all the men [in the family] read English works and women read in Hindi.
But everybody read!” She started
writing short stories in Hindi and also took an avid interest in theater. “In Chandigarh, where I grew up, I had an identity. When I moved to the United States, I found that I had none.
I turned to writing to express
myself. Not so much to publish but
to get my thoughts on paper. I sent
my stories out for publication and they were picked up by well-known Hindi publications.”

Tinaz Pavri, Professor of Political
Science and Director of the Asian
Studies Program at Spelman College, Atlanta, loved to read as a child and was “drawn to memoirs as
reservoirs of direct insight into the souls of people at critical time periods.” Tinaz
recently published her memoir, Bombay in the Age of Disco: City, Community, Life, about
her childhood days
growing up in Bombay
as a young Parsi girl.

Ajay Vishwanathan,
a virologist by profession
whose collection
of short stories, From a
Tilted Pail, was published
in 2014, writes to slip
into another world, “[because]
writing gives me unlimited
license to improvise and innovate.
And this rejuvenates
me as I return to my own life
and my routines. Basically,
writing hands me a world
that enhances my own.”

As a young girl, Soniah
Kamal, author of An Isolated
Incident (also a finalist for the
2016 Townsend Prize for Fiction),
would pen plays for
amusement during afterschool
hours: “I was one
of those annoying neighborhood kids
who would write plays and force everyone
to act. I would organize story time
every evening.” She wrote
her first story, a horror story,
when she was nine. A childhood
dream to pursue acting
gave way to writing: “I
never felt comfortable calling
myself a writer because I
hadn’t actively chosen it.
I had wanted to be an actor
instead. But over time,
I continued to do it. Maybe
fate knew better!” Chasing
fame, it would seem, is a fickle endeavor
for writers. Seeing one’s name in the
byline offers, perhaps, a flicker of pride
that quickly fades. “Over time those
things come to pass,” says Soniah. “I ask
myself, if no one ever sees my writing,
would I still write? The answer is yes.”

Poetry, fiction, or essay?
Fiction and poetry appeal to Ajay’s
sensibilities as a writer “because in a life
constricted by rules and routines where
you have little control, it allows one to
slip away into another world where the
people and the settings are all in one’s
control….I can bend rules and create my
own crests and troughs.”

(Right) Ajay Vishwanathan.

“I find fiction the most freeing form
of writing,” says Anjali, a sentiment that
is echoed by Soniah, who adds, “I am
comfortable with all forms of fiction—
short fiction and novel.” Fiction allows
her “to play God for a little while.” Her
novel, An Isolated Incident, grew out of
a promise to her grandfather to write
about Kashmir and was written over a
period of ten years.

(Left) Soniah Kamal’s novel, An Isolated Incident.

“I find that I have to be very disciplined
to write fiction. With personal essays,
I am able to sit myself down and
write at a stretch,” says Anjali. Like Soniah,
she, too, spent a decade mulling
over her main characters and the plot of
her first novel: “I wrote 100 pages in my
twenties—and then one day, many many
years later, decided to take it up again.”
But then again, a writer does not have to explore all forms of
writing. Soniah explains,
“Today, writers are expected
to do everything
and writers expect the
same from themselves.
But it shouldn’t have to
be. Fiction comes to me
naturally so that’s what I
enjoy the most.”

Writing fiction is
grueling work, says Anju,
adding, “It requires a reservoir
of patience and
I don’t get results for a
long, long time— in terms
of publication. But the
process of cleaning up
a dirty draft, crystallizing
the work, and discovering
hidden secrets
in the story and characters
is priceless! It’s like
running a marathon…
slow and steady pacing
toward the final goal.” 

(Right) Anju Gattani.

Reetika revels in both
nonfiction and fiction:
“When writing features for
newspapers and magazines,
I work effectively within the
framework of objective, word count,
and deadline. A rather satisfying experience
when one receives the job-well-done
nod from the editor.
Free flowing fiction is both
daunting and exhilarating
because there are no
guidelines or parameters, or
rules, for that matter. And
one seeks recognition from
various quarters—friends,
family, editors, agents, publishers,
and ultimately, people
unknown—readers!”

(Left) Reetika Khanna Nijhawan.

Anjali, who earned
an MFA in fiction
in 2014, says,
“It’s just very hard
to get that kind of
training elsewhere.
I got so much out
of an MFA that
might have taken
me forever to pick
up and learn.”

Becoming a writer….

Is it important to receive
training in writing? “Yes,
absolutely,” Anjali argues. “I
attended so many classes
and workshops in the Atlanta
area….I’ve lost count!”
Writing is a craft that needs
careful nurturing much
like any other skill. “You
cannot be a concert pianist
unless you work hours and hours,”
Anjali adds. “You cannot be a
good auto mechanic if you do not
train for years.” But does an MFA
(Master of Fine Arts) get you
there? Anjali, who earned an
MFA in fiction in 2014, says, “It’s
just very hard to get that
kind of training elsewhere.
I got so much out of an MFA
that might have taken me forever to
pick up and learn.” For Ajay, a degree
in writing matters less than lifelong
learning and practice. An MFA degree
is great to have, but if not, Ajay argues,
“I think you can train yourself by looking
at others. In today’s world of free
information, it takes that ceaselessly
roving, discerning eye to figure out as
much as possible. For me, writing is an
intimate, creative force.”

 Reetika does sometimes wonder if
she needs to get an MFA: “I envy writers
with an MFA in creative writing. When I
lamented my lack of formal training to
a senior newspaper editor in Mumbai,
he said, ‘Skill can be learnt on the job.
Passion cannot be taught.’ I have come to
endorse that view.” Reetika may yet decide
to get that degree once her children
head to college, just “for the fun of it!”

Waqas, who teaches creative writing
at Agnes Scott, endorses informal
groups or collectives of like-minded
writers and aspirants who come together
to read and critique each other’s
work. “You [also]
meet people who
are really good readers
but may not be
writers themselves,”
he notes. “It is excellent
to receive feedback
from them, too.”
Knowledge of more
than one language is
also important for a
writer, Waqas argues,
“to hear a different
rhythm, to know a
different sensibility, a different tune.
For a writer it is very important to be
able to read and appreciate literature in
more than one language.” In other words,
a good writer is also a good reader.

(Right) Waqas’ book of poems.

For Soniah,
who is
three years
into a fouryear
MFA at
Georgia State
University, it’s
a tough call.
“One can go
both ways,”
she points out.
“I wrote my book before I started my
MFA. What is really important is to receive
feedback and to actively seek it. But
the good thing about an MFA program is
that you are in a class full of people who
can do that [provide feedback]. I signed
up for the MFA program because I was
curious about it…and also because I won
a scholarship!”

The method…
Writing, as has been argued here,
is both a creative endeavor and an
intellectual pursuit.
Advice on method
may appeal to the intellectual
in a writer
but how does one
go about the process
of writing? Waqas admits that his
writing method is unruly: “between
teaching and academic service, it’s
hard. I jot down ideas as they come to
me sometimes when I am brushing
my teeth. When it comes to scholarly
work, my writing is more intentional
and planned. With creative writing, you
have to suspend your faculties, and let
the story and the words take you where
they go….stop the mind from shaping
the story but instead let the story and
words take over.”

Tinaz admits that sometimes not
all ideas materialize into a story, “and
the jottings get lost in a pile of paper
somewhere.” Anjali sets herself mental
deadlines for her writing tasks: “I
always walk around feeling compelled
to write. But I have to be disciplined
about it. Otherwise, I will make every
excuse to not write—I will walk the
dog, do the dishes…just anything but
writing. Discipline is very important
for me.” I shall not procrastinate, Kamla
has to repeat to herself as a daily
mantra, a credo that is painfully shared
by most writers!

To write is to meditate,
says Anju: “The
process of writing
the story is one of
discovery for both
my characters and
myself as I follow
my primary and
secondary characters’
lead into
their story world.
Through the
telling of the story,
the countless rewrites,
revisions,
and edits, the fog
of that first draft begins to clear so that
I can filter the story to squeeze out
the premise and finally the deeper
meaning of what my characters are
trying to tell me. And in turn I end up
learning something about myself or
perhaps what my subconscious is
trying to tell me.”

(Left) Anju Gattani’s novel, Duty and Desire.

Read to write or write to read?
Every one of these writers acknowledges
the importance of reading to
hone their craft. For Waqas, reading
crucially helps him “to understand
how others process experiences…not to
imitate them but to develop your own
voice.” For Anjali, “at a micro level, it has
taught me how to integrate dialogue and
scenery into stories.” The growth of the
internet and the liberalization of the
craft of writing, Anjali argues, have embraced
new ways of expression including
flash, slipstream, or visual poetry.

Reading offers insights
into technique,
says Soniah, “How
does a writer increase
pace here, for example,
or sentiment
there?” To this Ajay
would add, “[Reading]
is the key to deciphering
what works on
the bookshelf, and
what works in sticking
inside a reader’s
mind. Personally,
I’ve stopped reading
purely for pleasure.
I read to look for inspiration,
for clues to success. That
line that lingers. The twist in the tale
that appears seamless. The passion
for the well written sentence that in
turn re-ignites mine. In a way, that
gives me pleasure.”

“Reading releases something in us that enables the writing
process and shapes the words that we will later write. It’s the
parent to the child.” —Tinaz Pavri

(Right) Tinaz Pavri.

Publishing 101
For a budding writer, publishing—getting one’s writing Out There—is a
test of patience, humility, and nerves.
“It was an exceedingly traumatic experience,”
Reetika admits, about her
book publishing experience. Reetika
was initially keen on
publishing her work in
literary journals. When
she started writing,
however, she noticed a
theme evolve around
the collection. “At that
point, I decided I would self-publish.”
Half-hearted attempts with publishers
in the U.S. led to seeking publishers
in India. “I had sent it to OM and Roli
Books but had also started the groundwork
for self-publishing. I even bought
a guide on how to go about it…but a
week before starting the process of selfpublication,
I received a contract in the
mail from OM.” 

(Left) Reetika Khana Nijhawan’s book, Kesmetwali and Other Stories.

Anjali admits that the process
of finding a literary agent can be involved
and often painful. On a more
positive note, publishing today is nearly
borderless. Authors writing in the U.S.
are able to publish in India and to wide
audiences. Soniah, whose novel was
published in India, argues that her novel
“has been recognized by my birth
country, Pakistan, and by my adopted
country, America, even while the book
was published in India!”

(Left) Soniah Kamal.

Writing while in America about
South Asia…
The writers profiled here write about
myriad themes, and not all are about
South Asia. Rather than writing
about what they know,
these writers write about
who they are. When Kamla
Dutt started writing, her
themes were centered on displacement
and the alienation
that she had experienced as
a recent transplant to the U.S.
in the late ’60s. Her training in
genetics and the biological
sciences, she says, is also
evident in allusions to flora
and fauna in her work.

While Ajay’s stories are
mostly set in India or have Indian characters,
he has also published stories
with non-Indian protagonists. Waqas
contends that even while writing in
English, South Asian writers can evoke
the lilt of the vernacular: “Sometimes,
in writing coming from South Asia or
from South Asians, if they are merely
mimicking the style of the Western
writer, then it doesn’t serve literature
well. But, if you are writing informed
by the cultural milieu, you hear it in
the language, even if it’s in English.
The music, the tone, the feel. Salman
Rushdie, Anita Desai, Arundhati Roy,
and Rohinton Mistry… their writing is
not traditional English writing. There’s
something different about them. But
if you adopt the prejudices that are
encoded in the language (which we received
from the colonizers), it perpetuates
the harm of colonization. Writing
should be inclusive, not reactionary.”

Reetika, whose short stories portray
the everyday Indian—the chauffeur, the
housekeeper, the cleaner—as the protagonist,
would argue that writing about India
from the outside affords perspective
through distance: “There is always sorrow
in dislocation from home, but I do
not want to write about the immigrant
experience. There is so much beautiful
writing already in that space—Jhumpa
Lahiri comes to mind. I started with one
story and somehow it grew into a collection
of stories around a common theme.”

Practice, practice, practice…
Waqas encourages writers to trust
their instinct. He adds, “Good writing
does what you want it to do in the
least amount of words. In that sense it
is a precise science and an exacting art.
If you produce a 1,000 page novel, you
shouldn’t be able to take even a sentence
out.” But, Waqas adds, rules of writing
exist only in so far as they do not encumber
the writer: “The point is that the end
product should be compelling and not
just to you or your mother or father but
also to a complete stranger.” Anjali adds,
“Rejection is so common and so discouraging
in this industry. So having writing
partners and mentors has been huge for
me.” Ajay agrees and has learned to become
“inured to dismissal, to being told,
‘This will not work.’ If I had paid attention
to the countless rejection letters
I’ve received all these years, I’d be buried
somewhere under my sulk pillow and
not sitting up beyond midnight looking
for another reason for my novel’s character
to take the plunge.”

“As an employed scientist who is a part-time author, I
have strong support from a spouse who not only edits every
word I put down on paper, but also gives me space to myself
whenever I need it, often relieving me of more mundane
activities when I am deep in a scene or trying to pin down a
nagging detail.” —Ajay Vishwanathan

The community of South Asian
writers in Atlanta provide each other
support through informal gatherings
and meetings. Ajay acknowledges that
as a part-time author he has drawn on
the feedback of family and friends: “As
an employed scientist who is a parttime
author, I have strong support from
a spouse who not only edits every word
I put down on paper, but also gives me
space to myself whenever I need it, often
relieving me of more mundane activities
when I am deep in a scene or trying to
pin down a nagging detail. Today, I am
blessed with well-read and wonderfully
keen-eyed friends who give me constructive
criticism to improve my work.”

Tinaz, a political scientist by profession,
advises aspiring writers to think
outside the box: “You can write creatively,
no matter what your ‘real’ job is. For
a long time, I thought that as an academic,
a political scientist, I really had
no business in the creative writing field.
But yet I felt so compelled to write, that
one day I just did. I would urge wouldbe
writers to similarly disregard the
parameters of their ‘daytime’ job and
make time to write the stories that are
in them. And in fact, it is freeing to
finally write, and the act of committed
writing seems to spur on a greater
deluge to come.”

Fledgling writers should not be
afraid to send their work out to different
publications, says Soniah,
adding, “There are so many
literary journals out there today.
But research the journals
to see who and what they
publish, first”—lessons, she
admits, that have accumulated
over years of receiving
rejection letters. Ajay offers
as advice to aspiring writers,
“Write about anything,
even when you can’t think of
specific ideas. For those who
want triggers to get going, look
around you for inspiration. It
will come. It could be a photograph,
a painting, a spoken
phrase, a movie title, or a sticky
note on your office door.”

The last two decades have
seen a welcome proliferation
in the number of South Asian
writers in English in the diaspora.
Atlanta’s South Asian
writers can be considered part
of this new wave of writers—
passionate about their craft,
honest in their writing, and
persuasive in their voice.

Girija Sankar (www.girijasankar.
com) is an Atlanta-based freelance writer. Her
writings have also appeared
in Eclectica, India Currents,
JMWW, Alimentum, Youngzine,
and Muse India.

Resources
for Writers: