Buku Sarkar, author, Not A Disaster After All – “I like being cranky and bitchy at times”

What feels more rewarding – photography or writing?

Writing. It was my first love after all. But photography has helped me through difficult times when I was unable to write. It’s not the themes in photography per se, but the act of it that it allowed an outlet at a time when I was very ill and words failed. Photography, for me, is a more instantaneous, more reactive. In a way quite opposite to writing where one has to first think of and then construct sentences of course, the hard part in photography comes later, while editing.

How would you describe the Calcutta you grew up in as compared to the Kolkata of the present day? What has changed / unchanged?

Nothing. And that is the trouble – to see the country go by, and leave the city behind is sad. I call her “A Beautiful Devastation”. It’s the city’s people. I don’t know much about politics but I found the people still unchanged, unwilling to want to be better. Too content. Ambition, desire, anyone who has these qualities leaves the city these days so she is left with the leftovers. As a result, I think, it affects everything, from the lack of new restaurants, cultural activities, visitors. There is no incentive to be better.

What made you tell Anjali and Anita’s stories?

I wrote Anjali’s story, the title story, first, about 12 years ago while doing my Masters in England. I was reading Colm Tóibín at the time and was inspired by a female character from a story of his. Anjali herself is a composite of many women I know. Strong women. But I always believe there is fragility beneath every strong person. I didn’t know then that she would become central in interlinked stories. But I began to like exploring her fragility and she stuck in my head. The rest happened organically.

How has your work as a photographer influenced you to write fiction?

I always wondered, while I was ill, how I’d come back to writing. I had told myself then that somehow it would all come back together. It is happening, slowly. I can’t say I know how, yet. But I see faint signs of it. Mostly in non-fiction however. Not fiction, really. Not yet.

What was it like for you to move to NYC from your home town Calcutta, studying and working there? Did your own experiences lend notes to Anjali’s character?

Those were some of my favourite years in New York. I knew even back then I’d never return. Yes, Anjali has lived some of my past. Writing has always been a way to understand things; things I’ve seen, read and lived. As a student, living in the East Village, I saw how the neighbourhood changed during Rudy Giuliani’s era, before and after the clean-up. Areas once full of crack dealers, avenues I was fearful of, are now unaffordable. I find that sad. I rarely go there but in many ways these stories commemorate the East Village of the nineties. In contrast, Calcutta, the city where I was born but never really grew up in, appears in the book as memories. A city that felt like a prison during childhood. New York, on the other hand, meant freedom. A place where you could be anyone. Or, no one.

Both of your characters — Anjali and Anita — are women. Was it a conscious decision to use female voices to tell the story?

Not really. My first stories were about men. What I am writing now consists of mostly male characters as well. I loved Anjali even though she is so unlikeable. I like that she is still fragile inside. Anita first appeared in my short story, The Visit. I was so ungenerous to her, I actually laughed out loud while writing for the first time. I liked that side of me, something I didn’t know existed and decided to nurture it. That’s how she began to live. It might sound terrible but that’s how it is. I like being cranky and bitchy at times.

Arunima Mazumdar is an independent writer. She is @sermoninstone on Twitter and @sermonsinstone on Instagram.

What feels more rewarding – photography or writing?

Writing. It was my first love after all. But photography has helped me through difficult times when I was unable to write. It’s not the themes in photography per se, but the act of it that it allowed an outlet at a time when I was very ill and words failed. Photography, for me, is a more instantaneous, more reactive. In a way quite opposite to writing where one has to first think of and then construct sentences of course, the hard part in photography comes later, while editing.

How would you describe the Calcutta you grew up in as compared to the Kolkata of the present day? What has changed / unchanged?

Nothing. And that is the trouble – to see the country go by, and leave the city behind is sad. I call her “A Beautiful Devastation”. It’s the city’s people. I don’t know much about politics but I found the people still unchanged, unwilling to want to be better. Too content. Ambition, desire, anyone who has these qualities leaves the city these days so she is left with the leftovers. As a result, I think, it affects everything, from the lack of new restaurants, cultural activities, visitors. There is no incentive to be better.

What made you tell Anjali and Anita’s stories?

I wrote Anjali’s story, the title story, first, about 12 years ago while doing my Masters in England. I was reading Colm Tóibín at the time and was inspired by a female character from a story of his. Anjali herself is a composite of many women I know. Strong women. But I always believe there is fragility beneath every strong person. I didn’t know then that she would become central in interlinked stories. But I began to like exploring her fragility and she stuck in my head. The rest happened organically.

How has your work as a photographer influenced you to write fiction?

I always wondered, while I was ill, how I’d come back to writing. I had told myself then that somehow it would all come back together. It is happening, slowly. I can’t say I know how, yet. But I see faint signs of it. Mostly in non-fiction however. Not fiction, really. Not yet.

What was it like for you to move to NYC from your home town Calcutta, studying and working there? Did your own experiences lend notes to Anjali’s character?

Those were some of my favourite years in New York. I knew even back then I’d never return. Yes, Anjali has lived some of my past. Writing has always been a way to understand things; things I’ve seen, read and lived. As a student, living in the East Village, I saw how the neighbourhood changed during Rudy Giuliani’s era, before and after the clean-up. Areas once full of crack dealers, avenues I was fearful of, are now unaffordable. I find that sad. I rarely go there but in many ways these stories commemorate the East Village of the nineties. In contrast, Calcutta, the city where I was born but never really grew up in, appears in the book as memories. A city that felt like a prison during childhood. New York, on the other hand, meant freedom. A place where you could be anyone. Or, no one.

Both of your characters — Anjali and Anita — are women. Was it a conscious decision to use female voices to tell the story?

Not really. My first stories were about men. What I am writing now consists of mostly male characters as well. I loved Anjali even though she is so unlikeable. I like that she is still fragile inside. Anita first appeared in my short story, The Visit. I was so ungenerous to her, I actually laughed out loud while writing for the first time. I liked that side of me, something I didn’t know existed and decided to nurture it. That’s how she began to live. It might sound terrible but that’s how it is. I like being cranky and bitchy at times.

Arunima Mazumdar is an independent writer. She is @sermoninstone on Twitter and @sermonsinstone on Instagram.