Samudaya.org » Books & Arts » Interview with Samrat Upadhyay
Books & Arts
Interview with Samrat Upadhyay
Samrat Upadhyay is the author of the short story collections Arresting God in Kathmandu and The Royal Ghosts, and the novel The Guru of Love. He is the recipient of the annual Whiting Writers' Award. His latest collection of stories, The Royal Ghosts, has been reviewed on this site.
Rajani: I read Arresting God a few years ago and I feel like Royal Ghosts is an improvement. The stories are more dramatic and more interesting. Did you make any changes in your writing consciously or do you think you have just grown better as a writer? Do you agree your second short story collection is better?
Samrat Upadhyay: It's impossible not to grow as a writer if you treat it as a discipline and work on improving your craft—on a regular basis. With The Royal Ghosts, even while I was writing the individual stories, I was more conscious of them eventually culminating in a book, so some of my approaches in terms of characters and points of view were more deliberate. I attempted a wider angle in the collection, hoping to embrace a wider perspective of concerns and positions. My first collection, Arresting God in Kathmandu, was written over a span of ten years, starting with my initial days in graduate school, with no idea on my part that they'd be published as a book.
But I don't agree that The Royal Ghosts is better than Arresting God. Someone once said that asking such a question of writers is akin to asking them which of their children they favor. These are different books. Arresting God has a youthful, roaming quality, a feeling of irreverence that I cherish. The Royal Ghosts is a more mature book, for sure, but better? I'll leave that to the individual reader.
R: You live in the United States and have done so for at least the past few years. Yet almost all your stories are set in Kathmandu. Did you go back to Nepal before you wrote Royal Ghosts for research, or is it entirely based on memory?
SU: I go to Nepal whenever I can, at least once every year or two years. I didn't research The Royal Ghosts as one might when writing a work of nonfiction, but I am acutely aware of the political scene in Nepal, and well as how things have changed there over the years. For a writer like me who lives here and writes about there (and I'd argue this applies to all writers, regardless of where they live and write about what), the form emerges out of an interaction between imagination and reality. Imagination shapes reality, and powerful literature always is about this shaping, and not the world itself. The world is finite, the shaping is not, and that's why there are infinite possibilities of innovation in literature.
R: Are your characters drawn from real life? Is there one (or more) character in your stories that is based on yourself?
SU: Some are. Most are composites of real people and fake people. No character based on myself—am I that interesting?
R: Your characters though are not "interesting people". They live pretty ordinary lives. Have you been moved or inspired by certain people (ordinary or otherwise) or are these the stories of every-person?
SU: I find them interesting when I write, and it's crucial for writers to become engaged with their characters; otherwise they turn lethargic on the page. I am interested in the activities of the "ordinary," if you will, and how the ordinary moments can lead to extraordinary epiphanies in our lives. These ordinary moments can carry what Raymond Carver called "startling power," a sudden illumination of an object, a movement, a feeling that can then become a tremendous source of energy for the story, carrying with it transformation that embraces everything around it. Also, my characters often observe other characters, and in these voyeuristic moments too something happens, a transfer of feeling or mood that then becomes the impetus for further changes in the story. After a while, it's hard to distinguish what's ordinary and what's not, and I think that sort of equanimity is something I strive for, and value, in my fiction.
R: You've said in interviews that you write every single day. That sort of discipline is really admirable. Were you always so consistent or is this something that happened gradually? For example, sometimes life gets in the way. People who want to write have other jobs, school, etc. I feel like people are not really encouraged to pursue creative writing as a full time career. How has your experience been?
SU: The discipline has come gradually. In the beginning I used to rely on the conventional muse, but now I will the muse to come when I sit down to write every day. And yes, there are other things to take care of. I'm a husband, a father. I'm also a teacher, so I have student stories to read and comment on, meetings to attend, readings to give—all of these are part and parcel of the life I've chosen. I get up very early, sometimes as early as three am, to write. Now it's become a habit.
Unless you're a Stephen King or a John Grisham, most writers have other jobs. Increasingly, most like me make their home in academia, where we get to share our love of literature, teach others what we know, and get summers off to do our own writing. Luckily, my parents didn't force me to become a doctor or an engineer, so I was able to major in English as an undergraduate and pursue creative writing at the graduate level. I have been heartened, in the past few years, by how many young Nepalis have joined or expressed interest in joining creative writing programs, or in the least have pursued work in the humanities.
R: I think there is a Faulkner quote that goes something like: "I only write when I'm inspired. Fortunately, I'm inspired at 9 o'clock every morning." How was your experience as a student of creative writing? Do you think you would have written the books you have written whether or not you pursued creative writing in college?
SU: These "what would have happened if" questions are, of course, hard to answer, but I think I would have ended up becoming a writer no matter what, although the road might have been a bit tougher. I think being in a creative writing program, with amazing colleagues and teachers, helped me become more disciplined, and made me widen my aesthetics, from the mad stories of Denis Johnson to the controlled narration of Peter Taylor, for example.
R: In one of your interviews, you have talked about "exoticization" of stories by non-native English writers, and you've said you dislike this. Quote: "The profusion of "Hai Ram's" and spices in some works from South Asia are a major turnoff for me." I remember reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Pulitzer prize winning collection "Interpreter of Maladies" and quite liking it. Then I thought I'd read her novel "The Namesake", opened to the first page and read "Asmina Ganguli stands in the kitchen of a Central Square apartment combining Rice Krispies and Planters peanuts and chopped red onion in a bowl. She adds salt, lemon juice, thin slices of green chili pepper" and so on. This typical Calcutta snack was described in several stories in the first book to good effect, but when I saw this in the opening scene of the second book, I was fed up and turned off. It seems extremely difficult for a writer who is South Asian but who writes in English to balance this sort of thing. First of all, if you're writing in English, you know your readership is going to consist of more non-Nepalis than Nepalis. Second, the writer has to deal with the fact that "exoticized" fiction is more likely to get published in the West. And so, is it really healthy for a writer to be conscious of all these things that are actually external to the actual writing? Even if you were to say that one should not write with an eye on certain audiences or publishing markets, how can a writer remain authentic and true to himself? Do you struggle with these questions?
SU: Whew! This has to be the longest question I've received in any interview so far. I'll try my best to make my answer shorter than your question.
What is "external" to the writing and what is the "actual" writing is not as easy to distinguish. The external world is always shaping us, and we already have numerous audiences in our minds—parents, friends, critics, readers, editors—even if we were to pretend we were writing a diary entry we've vowed not to show anyone. Writing is at once an individual and a social act, and the question of "authentic and true" is always a negotiation between the self and the world. Who knows what our authentic self is? Spiritualists spend a lifetime trying to find answer to this. Philosophers for ages have pondered this.
Does this mean that the writer "caters" to a primary audience? No. That's marketing. I write for the love of writing, but that doesn't mean that I position myself and my work so that I am able to market it. I write out of my heart, and I hope my work speaks to other hearts. I am well aware that both Western and Eastern readers will read my work, and there's nothing wrong with trying to address both these audiences, or to the audience in between, but that's not the same as writing with the sole intent of pleasing them or "currying" their favor (how's that for an exotic phrase?).
R: I understand that you (and other writers) write for the love of writing but isn't there pressure (if you're Asian, if you're a woman, etc.) to write in a certain way? I am not only talking about the expectations of the reader, but from editors, publishers etc. Is there an idea of the South Asian writer (or the foreign writer, the writer from the third world country, etc.) that leads to certain expectations? Maybe you feel the pressure more acutely when you are unpublished?
SU: I have never felt the pressure. My editor herself is a novelist, so we often focus on craft-related issues when we work on revision. The idea that Western publishers, in their desire to orientalize or exoticise the East, will publish only a certain kind of work from foreign writers is not something I have experienced, and is certainly not borne out by the wild variety of fiction that gets published, whether from South Asian writers or others. Sure, there'll always be some who have set ideas about what "ethnic" fiction ought to read like—I am reminded of one reviewer for a major newspaper who lamented that The Guru of Love wasn't appealing enough because I didn't dwell on the mountains.
R: Do you think there are similarities of themes and style among South Asian writers writing in English? Do you consider yourself part of a group or completely independent? Also, are there writers who are very different from you as far as circumstances (time, place etc) go, but who you consider similar in spirit?
SU: Rushdie's metaphor of a "broken mirror" applies to most South Asian writers writing about their homelands. The concerns of fragmentation, dislocation haunts many of us. That we write in English, our cherished alien tongue, in itself a gesture of displacement. When I began writing, I was greatly influenced by writers such as Rushdie, Anita Desai, R.K. Narayan, and Amitav Ghosh. Of course, I grew up in Nepal, so geographically there's a degree of independence. But it's not only the Indian writers. There are other writers who are my spiritual kin: Irish storyteller William Trevor, and the South African Nadine Gordimer, who was a tremendous influence on my approach to the short story. I've also been influenced by poets such as Pablo Neruda.
R: I would like you to comment on certain perceptions about yourself. Two comments from Time magazine:
1. "One of the first Nepali writers to publish fiction in the West, he has been called the "Buddhist Chekhov." He's not Anton Chekhov, but he is Buddhist, and the influence of the religion—observant, detached, cyclical—is richly apparent."
2. "Upadhyayis that rarity among authors of a subcontinental drift: he is an under-writer, both in style and substance, the anti-Arundhati."
Comments?
SU:
1. Chekhov was a Buddhist, don't you know? It's rumored that his famous story "The Lady with the Pet Dog" came about after he made a pilgrimage to Swayambhunath and saw a young Nepali woman with a monkey on a leash. I'm joking, of course, but I'm amusedly and humbly flattered to be compared to Chekhov, and if the reviewer wants to throw in my quasi-Buddhist upbringing to comment on my fiction, that's his prerogative. I am interested in the cyclical nature of life, but I wouldn't attribute it solely to the Hindu-Buddhist philosophical outlook, because I believe many Western writers also display similar interest—Raymond Carver, example.
2. So, I am like Chekhov but with a Buddhist tint, but I'm the exact opposite of Roy? How about Upadhyay has 20% of Amitav Ghosh's historical acuity; he writes like Rohinton Mistry on ganja; he's a male Anita Desai, he's an anorexic Suketu Mehta; or he's a "poor man's Jhumpa Lahiri," as one magazine actually called me?
R: How different are the reactions of Westerners and Nepalis to your work? Does the reaction of the Nepali diaspora differ significantly?
SU: I get varied reactions from both groups. The Nepali diaspora is not a monolithic gang, so the reactions too are mixed. Since I am writing about Nepal, Nepalis here and in Nepal often respond forcefully to my work. When Arresting God first came out, a friend told me about attending a Nepali gathering in the U.S. where people opined passionately about the book, especially those who hadn't read it.
There's a feeling of ownership among Nepalis when it comes to my work, and it cuts both ways. There are Nepalis who, I imagine, are not convinced by my depiction of Nepal, particularly the sexual content of my first book. It's nothing new in the history of writers. James Joyce, for example, was not only criticized but also banned on moral grounds. Salman Rushdie is still routinely castigated by Indian critics. Japanese writer Haruki Murakami, even as he's adored worldwide, is sneered at by Japanese critics who consider him too low-brow, or not Japanese enough. It's part and parcel of a writer's life, isn't it? Once the book is out in the public domain, it's fair game.
On the other hand, I get emails from Nepalis all over the world telling me how moved they are by my stories. I frequently hear from aspiring writers in English who feel that the critical reception to my work has made them hopeful about their own.
R:Yes, sometimes in discussions it seems like a lot of criticism is directed towards your (mis)representation of Nepal. For me, personally, reading your book was an experience that I immediately recognized as having to do with so much more than just the stories or the quality of the writing. It was not only about your Nepali-ness but also about my own. So responses are bound to be complicated. Some of the criticism is unreasonable though isn't it? Like when people assume that when you write about sex, you are necessarily catering to a Western audience.
SU: Writing is not a reasonable business, and often you are your own worst critic. It's true, though, that I have never understood this Nepali preoccupation with sex in my first book—to me it's part of the overall narrative of the stories, and I can't isolate it for discussion. I mean, Nepali writers have ploughed this territory with passion before, so what's the big deal? There's a tendency, I think, to become super-hyper with the idea of Westerners reading something about Nepal, as if one has to instantly on guard and catch "errors" (Nepalis having sex? But we really don't; at least not in the depraved, licentious Western way!). If I really wanted to cater to the Western audience, I would have gone the full route, i.e., Nepalis having sex, en masse, on the murky shores of Bagmati, you know, Anjalis and Saritas copulating with Mukuls and Avinashs. For added exotic and erotic effect, I would have maybe painted a riot in the background, with King G's constipated face looking down benevolently from a billboard. Wait! That's actually a great image. Maybe I will use it in my next work.
R: Are you ever going to write stories set in the United States? You've said that the theme of cultural clashes (in an immigrant's life) has been done to death. But surely there are ways of doing this that does not just rehash the same types of stories and situations?
SU: I'm sure there are ways of making anew the concerns of immigrant fiction. Right now I'm just not the author to do it. But I also don't want to say never because a writer's interests can change, and there is a possibility I'd want to venture into this area.
R: When discussion of your work is taking place (in online forums for example) the name of Manjushree Thapa tends to come up. People either claim that she is a better or worse writer than you. Have you read her work and if so, what do you think? Also, have you read any other Nepali writers writing in English? What kind of a future do you see for Nepali writers?
SU: Manjushree Thapa is an accomplished writer, and I admire her books, especially Forget Kathmandu. Her candor, and her commitment to what she believes in, something she articulates both in her fiction and nonfiction, is an inspiration. As for being worse or better, readers have tastes, and they make pronouncements according to their tastes, as they are entitled to. Yes, I do read Nepali writers in English. Peter Karthak's EveryPlace EveryPerson, for example, is a very engaging read, and I even wrote a blurb for it.
I am optimistic about the future of Nepali writing in English, but aspiring writers should be wary of falling prey to what Indian writer Vikram Chandra calls "the cult of authenticity": the belief, especially among conservative critics, that 'accurate' representation of culture/nation supercedes art, and that there is one true picture of culture/nation that writers, especially those writing in English, often distort for the exotic-hungry West. I'm paraphrasing, but Chandra's essay playfully demolishes the notion of "Indianness" in Indian writing in English. Translated into the Nepali context, the "authentic representation" argument is often espoused by those I've come to regard fondly as Titleholders of Nepali Reality. These people know what constitutes Nepaliness, who is allowed to speak about it, and how it should be spoken about, and most often they deliver their sermon without any penetrating discussion of the substance or style of the literary work in question. They know the real Nepal, and if the work they encounter doesn't match their version, their idea of critical response is to pontificate. Young writers should recognize that the titleholder's Nepal is also a mythical Nepal, in which the East and West are at polar opposites, all Nepali writing in Nepali is pure and rooted in authentic culture (notwithstanding the fact that even our giant Devkota himself borrowed literary tricks from the English Romantics; many contemporary Nepali writers also admit Western influence), and Nepali writing in English is suspect because it's _(fill in the blank here).
New writers should particularly be aware that no one work captures the ultimate Nepali reality (isn't Nepal right now a battleground for competing realities?), that we can only prod at it from different angles, hoping that some of what we say will resonate with the readers, that they'll see some of themselves in it, and more importantly, that they'll see something different, something strange and provocative. In order to achieve this, it's important not to succumb to the shrill voices of these watchdogs of Nepalipan, and to trust one's own vision and plunge in.
I'm reminded of Chinua Achebe, who, after reading Conrad's Heart of Darkness and not recognizing his Africa in it, went on to create his own Things Fall Apart. It didn't diminish Conrad (a better writer by far, in my opinion), but it did a heck of a job in galvanizing postcolonial literature. We need writers who take it upon themselves to produce interesting, challenging, even controversial work, hound publishers to publish it, and let the beast loose on the public. That's what will energize Nepali literary scene in English, and it'll enrich all of us.
Comments
Upadhyay writes well. I’m an English major, and writing is digging up a sotry you have- some are more comfortable writing about the immigrant experience while others prefer to write of home. Kiran Desai’s new book, The Inheritence of Loss, seems to strike a balance there. Upadhyay needs better exposure before he’s burning up the New York Times lists. I think writing is passsionate and personal. I applaud Upadhyay for honing on a skill that I infer is very personal to him.
Most Nepalis grew up reading ficion at a very different level, nothing offensive intended here, but most would rather discuss the book without reading it than talk about the book’s real worth.
I don’t know if Upadhyay reads these posts, but I had a question for him: Do you think your art has a purpose? I am confused about my own writing at times- the rael puropse of that writing. Like the Nigerian novelist, Ken Saro-wiwa, who claimed that art without purpose is not art, do you think your art trying to connect with a greater audience than those who read stories at night before bed, and wake up the next morning having no memory of what they read?
“Translated into the Nepali context, the “authentic representation” argument is often espoused by those I’ve come to regard fondly as Titleholders of Nepali Reality. These people know what constitutes Nepaliness, who is allowed to speak about it, and how it should be spoken about, and most often they deliver their sermon without any penetrating discussion of the substance or style of the literary work in question. They know the real Nepal, and if the work they encounter doesn’t match their version, their idea of critical response is to pontificate.”
That quote is a great response. I dont think the occurance of those substance lies only within Nepali Society. IT also depends on how you point out Literature. The major problem I beilive is in our country Literature is taken NOT as a art, rather just as a list of conjuction, adjectives and what not! The quote is also a misguide, if asked, what should literature promote?
Anyway I hope I made my point.
“Kiran Desai’s new book, The Inheritence of Loss, seems to strike a balance there.”
The book is a grand read. Two contients and two cities narration. I am also amused to see some Nepali intruders. By the way,how did you like the ending?
Jake your question is a wonder for all us young artists, not only to Samrat Upadhay. Art doesnt have a purpose, we have purpose towards it. Esp in these lively era when its fading out. Lets keep it alive.
can’t say much about what samrat wrote or said but what rajani asked paves the path for nepalese interviewers (her art of logical questioning is noteworthy.)
Yes, yes, the ‘exoticization of South Asian writers’. But what comprises ‘exocticization’ in broader sense rather than just ‘spices’, ‘dowry’ and ‘arrange-marriages’, Rajani and Samrat both decide to conveniently overlook and leave it to the readers.
If Jhumpa Lahiri is writing a novel whose central theme rests on conflicts that arise out of two seemingly opposing ‘cultures’, how can a (good) writer betray the details of any one of them to make the other look more appealing or otherwise? One cannot escape the ‘smell of frying onions and spices’ when talking about experiences in different contexts, which become an important ingredient in giving birth to a new identity that is eventually capable of transcending the ‘curry smell’ and accepting itself as a cosmopolitan citizen.
“What is “external” to the writing and what is the “actual” writing is not as easy to distinguish….Spiritualists spend a lifetime trying to find answer to this. Philosophers for ages have pondered this.”
The question here is, ‘normally, are our experiences different from the way we choose to portray, thus, when we attempt to portray them in some artistic form, are we even able to translate that experience to the extent that it is still loyal to our original experience?’ The obvious answer here, in my case is no we aren’t quite able to, no matter how prolific a writer one is. Experience is a result of that moment of awareness which does not rely on ‘external’ world. The only time the ‘external’ world comes into our ‘vision of experience’ is when we disconnect from our own true experience of events and processes, at which time such experience is transformed into observation. The ‘actual’ gets tainted with the ‘external’ because we choose to defy and deny our experience, instead, choosing to rely on our observance.
Let this revive the dying creed of critically-examining faculty in us, which otherwise seems to have been intoxicated by the ever pleasurable ‘soma’ flowing through our subservient Nepali veins.
Too many cliches and generalities. Rajani and Samrat both seemed to be constrained by geographic and cultural boundaries. I felt suffocated.
Mystichacke, I wonder the same. But again, Truly! I think such discussion is pointless. There is no method to it. Wonder for a minute, if those works by Keats, Byron, Neruda, etc didn’t exactly define experience, then why would it touch thousands? Is everybody stupid? Or Could they never touch the point? That point of Mystry. Who knows? Isn’t is all perception? AHH!!! tooo confusing.
These questions in literture, are as confusing as “Does God Exist?” questions in science or philosophy.
good point tho.
Well, if you think there is a method to defining experience, which I infer by you quoting big authors (as their celebrity status confirms that there IS one, apparently), then why would discussions that look at such processes be pointless? Unless, in prior, you have decided to prescribe to certain way of defining experience already (by perception only). In that case, any deviation from your standard ‘perspective’ will look/sound unreasonable or pointless. Also, if you accept that your perception is not constant but varying with time/events, it logically follows that such perception is not independent but a result of the determining quality of the ‘external’ world.
IMO, writers do not define experiences at all, they simply point you towards one and it is up to the reader to evoke as much passion/emotion out of it as possible. But the way writers goes about ‘pointing and guiding readers’, in seamless and continuous stream, taking you through the troughs and pitches of their narrative with remarkable literary skills (some degree of defining experience?) is probably what distinguishes ‘good’ one from the rest. Nonetheless, I agree, it is arcane to the extent that an average dude would just like to utter ughh…and call it a nite.
Rajani,
Does his writings reflect the real life of people? Or, will his change the life of people? I dont believe on Kalpanik kurakani in his writings. Maxim Gorgy’s “Mother” should be an ideal writings.
I heard that Samrat used to avoid many Nepali gatherings during his graduate studies in USA. If he claims pucca nepali, then a second thought may be needed!
lets not swarm behind bakamfuse kora kalpanik kurakani…
Most Nepali gatherings in the US are worth avoiding anyway. It’s nothing but crass backbiting, whining and fingerpointing. I don’t think a writer needs to be in society to write of a society. There are Westerners who write stories based in the East with the fluidity and knowledge of a Westerner. If you are to look at Jhumpa Lahiri or Kiran Desai, they seem to have a good grasp of the local scenes as good as the locals do.
Samrat Upadhyay says he doesn’t believe that there is one true Nepal and Nepalipan (somewhere in the interview).So generally he doesn’t claim to be pucca Nepali. i think some of his stories and characters ring true (as real Nepalis or real human beings)while others are less successful.
“I dont believe on Kalpanik kurakani in his writings”
Sorry,I don’t understand what you mean by that, please explain
Another successful(is it???)commercial feat. I guess its gonna contribute to rising remittance of 30% and counting. Our country is running on it aint it?? Remittance.
I hope it sells in millions that too by count of the great dollar bill.
Smells good.
Rajani,
Thanks for some clarifying points.I commend his English and gifted writing skills. I may have, however, misunderstood the scope of his profession. But, my point in the earlier assertion is that he should very productively utilize his skills in transforming the structure of a society. Just for example, the case of Nepal for him. Right now there are many anomalies in Nepali society and he can depict them and he can inspire to bring changes there. For that reason, I cited Maxim Gorgy’s example. Sometime last year he attempted to contribute in NYTimes to bring the case of Nepal to world community. I think that was a positive attempt, but don’t know why he aborted. It is just two cents to utilize his exceptional ability for the benefit of many.
— -my two cents…
people just don’t seem to get it. he’s writing what he wants and he bears no responsibility whatsoever to depict nepal in any way at all. or to use his ‘skills’ to a positive end or whatever else the wise people here in this forum seem to be expecting of him. unnecessary pedantisism among the newly enlightened university crowd sitting in their computer labs farting away grand ideas to make world better, and the change thing all great fun, but you’re missing the point!
If you can’t change the society, it will smelly sherpa! j/k
Hi all,
I know SU has a good literature and he will become a good professional writer in future. I can see professionalism in his interview and he has the ability to write the stories that promotes his carieer and to remain on the list of writers. He is very good at this.
But the points expressed like “being true nepali” “Nepalipan” he he.. these words seem jokes to me cause I know I am nepali and I don’t have to prove that and express to others that I am true nepali or not. What I do or behave or write is nepali and i am proud of that and I see in SU ( he lacks that confidence of being nepali so he is looking for nepalipan) if you are not nepali then only nepalipan comes into dictonary isn’t it?
I am a very proud to say that there are brilliant writers emerging here and they are much more successful and renouned but they express nepal so proudly. For eg. Pls guys read “palpasa cafe” or “Soch by karna sakya” you will find out the difference between living as nepali and pretending to be nepali. Rajani did a good job interviewing SU. Thanks rajani.
Samrat is 20 years ahead of his time for Nepal. Good that he came to America to discover his talents. In Nepal he would have been treated badly.
In his interview Samrat brings out some worth considering issues. What is Nepali literature? Are writers in English required to handle some issues but not others. But typical Nepali, instead of discussing issues, they want to talk about whether he came to my party during grad school or what not.
Prateek, can you give us a list of how we can know someone living as a Nepali or pretending as a Nepali? I eat McDonalds hamburger every week. Do I lose my pukka Nepali identification?
Please discuss isses, guys. OK?
good interview rajani. lets have more of these in future!!
I just want to express that reading his books were an experience. it is fun to read about your city and people. lots of issues come up like exocticization, is he a real napali etc etc.
but truly, he is a good writer, his books are a good read and lets support nepali artists like him. plain and simple.
I love norbus comment, thats exactly what i was thinking, hes an artist for gods sake he can write whatever he wants.And by the way samudaya sweeper you are doing a shite job a lot stuff has been passing through ke ho yesto.
What about tagging Samrat as “Sexpear of Nepal”? That must be appealing to you folks! Somehow, i don’t hear wow wow Samrat in USA.
Many of you guys in Nepal consider writing book is novel. Writing a book is not a great deal. If you have authored a book, that gets weight of only about 0.10. Novel and original works mostly comes out in journals and carries substantial weight in a scale of 0.5 to 1.0 depending on how many authors. In the next interview, pls check if he has any articles published in the peer reviewed literary journals. Hope that helps to broaden you guys brain…
Sometime ago i had a chance to read a catchy title by deepak thapa and Bandita sinjapati. I found it very sour as i found it is like just a project report, which indeed was a British’s DFID project report. That’s how books comes out.
I don’t intend to offend anyone. Those who wish to comment on writing in English should first examine their own writing skills because one cannot become a good critic unless one has the knowledge and skill to qualify as a critic. Blogs are a medium for free speech, but in the world of criticism, unless one has the credibilty, one will not be heard.
This goes out, without any malice to anyone, to all you pseudo-critcs and commentators who chose to criticize, whether good or bad, in the postings above.
I like Samudaya’s quote
” Pseudo-intellectuals.Just like you”
When Royal Ghost published in Feb 9…may be I brought in Feb 12 from Border with $13 cost.
Why did I buy Royal Ghost?
I have heard many times about his creation “Arresting God in KTM “and “The Guru of Love”. But I have not read these two books. I read about Samrat Uppadhya and his new book ‘Royal Ghosts” in Nepalese Newspaper. These all news made me to buy “The Royal Ghost’. All of the stories I finished within one week. NY Subway and Central Park was my place to read these stories. If you read this story in KTM may be you will have different vision but reading in the out of Nepal… I saw all images in the story.
I hope many of you already had this short stories collection. I would like to share my analysis about this book.
There are 9 stories in this Royal ghosts, all set in Kathmandu valley or let’s say only in Kathmandu like Dharahara,Lazimpat,Tripuresor,Bansbari,Bagbazar and so on. Some of the character comes from out of Kathmandu valley like Janakpur or Ghorkha. All of the character lives in KTM and works in KTM. When you go through with the story you will see all the café shop, Street and more scenarios. I like the first 2 story. A Refugee and the Wedding Hero. When I finished reading these two stories I realize that Samrat Uppadhya present the characters in innocent way. Without doing any thing by themself character suffers in the story. And the “Weight of Gun” one of the Best story I like. There is no decorative ending in the story. Some stories has symptom of ongoing Maoist conflict’s consequence.
The third stage is more hypothetical story. I had lots of hope and eager to read the final story “The royal ghosts’ I read that story at last because I thought it would be the best One! If I would read the Royal Ghost in the beginning I would not read any of rest stories. If possible I would return this book.Writer used the Title Royal Ghost to CASH his book. There is not only Nepali English reader but also there are many more English readers for Nepali literature.so probally he tried to CASH the Present situation Of Nepal in The title. He used the sensible background in the story which I felt so bad. Writer could use other back ground the represent the story could be better. I feel so bad reading this final story. And in That background he could create the nice story!
One of the characters in each story talks about Indian things some character talks about Amitab bachhan or manisha Koirala or Dilip Kumar or even Indian food. Why each of one character is joining with Indian stuff..? That’s I did not like…That does not represent the creative writing…that represents the writer himself or his ness.
The entire story seems like English Translation of Nepali story. I could not find out any creative way of expressing. And there is no depth of characters and situation.
Most stories have plain exterior. Yes there are some emotional catch in the story like the weight of Gun. When I finished all this stories…I felt if the writer would collect all of the characters in one stage and create the nice novel would be more effective!
I ditto agree with Sapanaharu. The book title does not reflect the content. It is just trying to CASH. If you can translate the SatyaKatha in English, that would have greater readership than ‘chanda na banda ko katha’ like this…
The ‘exoticization of South Asian writers’seems to be the point of contention here. I agree with Mystichacker that the term itself denotes more than the spices, arranged marriages et all, which Mr. Upadhyay did not touch on in his interview; however, personally, I think that he (compared to the likes of Jhumpa Lahiri) has managed to maintain a rather realistic vision of the streets and sounds of KTM. I am not certain that he would be as successful if he were to have characters/plots based in the areas outside of the KTM city limits.
The one aspect that I find intriguing of the ongoing debate on Mr. Upadhyay’s skills (or lack thereof) as a writer is concerned, is the intensity of passions that he seems to arise amongst Nepalese.
I wonder if it is because the current climate in Nepal is such that most Nepalese are hungry for a role model that they can hold up on the world stage, I feel like any criticism of him as a writer by a Nepali is viewed through a prism of fog where you are viewed as a “psuedo-intellectual”.
If stereotyping is generally scorned upon by contemporary South Asian writers, I fail to see with what logic they defy the central identity, unless if they are extremely conscious of ‘their own version’ that they don’t even give room for discussion to someone else’s. I mean, if stereotypes are big turn offs, it is because they think there is more to the identity and design than what is normally depicted, born out of their own experience of being a Nepali or a South Asian to certain extent, perhaps, which they subconsciously subscribe to, no matter how much they may despise Nepali gatherings, the ‘curry smells’ and hopelessly melodramatic bollywood flicks. And, if they agree that ‘there is more to it’ than what is normally depicted in popular culture, why do these stuck-up writers have problem accepting that at times their portrayal may lack enough consideration in penetrating through to the readers who may perceive things differently.
You raise a good point—lack of general ‘role model’ in Nepali experience. That translates into setting a standard for ourselves in different spheres of our Nepaliness—politically, socially and culturally. No matter how much the po-mo writers try to project ‘there is no one identity’ reality, in all this, they themselves fail to abide by their own theory when they prescribe to a particular ‘brand’ or ‘essence’ of experience. The only redeeming factor for them is to quote their work as ‘fiction’, crossing over to ambiguous area called ‘art and creativity’ from which average people disconnect because it has nothing substantial to offer them.
crossing over to ambiguous area called ‘art and creativity’ from which average people disconnect because it has nothing substantial to offer them.
haha you have a lot to learn!
Mystichacker,
As far as the stereotypes is concerned, I think you have a valid point (I know critics abound :-).
I’d like to belief that the mysticism and the exoticisation is a necessary element for South Asian writers in order to be a success on the World Stage.
From Aundhuti Roy to our own Mr. Upadhyay, all of them have to subscribe to the elements of “South Asianness” i.e. Tamarind trees, Mango groves, curry smells et all are what they have to write about because that it what the audience expects of them.
The question obviously is what that means in terms of writing as an art form. My own perception is that in subscribing to those elements in spite of supposedly eschewing it in their own lives, writers from the subcontinent are selling themselves short and severely restricting their own creativity.
The commercial success that is to be enjoyed from prescribing to the exoticisation means that they are likely to be compelled to stick with the same formula.
would you agree?
Political correctness if on one hand has been successful in bringing some uniformity to an otherwise lop-sided world; it has equally de-sensitized us in terms of openly exploring human inter-dependencies and cross-cultural dialogue and exchanges.
No matter how much of global village rhetoric we choose to subscribe, the soul of that would have to lie in local experience. Hence, Roy, I think operates closer at local level, while Upadhaya attempts to operate at global level. There’s one-to-one connection in Roy’s writing; Upadhaya sheds that connection and tries to give you a universal platform to put yourself in. Roy asks you to hold and ‘feel’ the complexity of human interaction; Upadhaya says, ‘screw that, stand on the same platform and you’ll get a similar perspective, hence you’ll be able to understand each other better’.
It eventually boils to matter of personal choice, I think. Personally, Roy, I can understand and put myself into, every time I visit my mamaghar in Terai or reminisce with my siblings about those winter-vacation days. There limits my Roy experience, unless I choose to go back and resurrect them, but things change and have changed since. How can I even be sure such experiences are preserved in time for me to revive them? It could all be my wishful thinking.
On the other hand, in spite of my staunch criticism of Samrat’s work, it occurs to me if the path of universal identity is infact the ‘way to go’, perhaps. I sit here, in some Midwestern state and try to connect to the events and happenings in Nepal, how can I as an honest person deny that the ‘invisible’ platform of my operation comprises of so many ‘different’ elements that have nothing to do with events in Nepal, but has everything to do with how I perceive events not only here but concerning Nepal as well. We are no longer ‘pure’, and Samrat for better or worse has accepted that, I think.
As for stereotypes, I think they are the most essential elements if one is to delve into the depths and reproduce something. I mean, what are stereotypes but genuine elements that have been instrumental in defining who we are in the present.
I generally agree with what you said above, but since you juxtaposed Roy with Upadhaya in one of your paras, I could not resist but give you the above.
Personally, I felt “Arresting God’s in Kathmandu” lacked depth that “God of small things” had…like Hacker, perhaps it was because I could relate to Roy’s story with much ease unlike Upadhaya’s stories. Having said that, Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” or Kafka’s “Trail” were also little too hard to shallow for a illiterate person like me…so who am I to judge, haina? Its all subjective…re..
It looks to me like samudaya gets its fair share of ‘literary-minded’ visitors also. I wonder if some of them could volunteer to provide inputs (suggestions) in making samudaya more diverse in its content and feature. I have bombarded Sarahana with emails which will very soon find its way back to me, if I don’t practice restraint. I suggest you also give it a shot at: info at samudaya dot org.
Undoubtedly Roy has mastered the art of weaving in sterotypes that are so rich in detail that it is easier for the reader to imagine themselves in the imagery that she creates but, for me, the same themes of arranged marriage, mango groves et all are what I would like South Asian writers to move away from.
I understand that these notions/images/perceptions are a part of the South Asian identity, but, given the fast pace of development, both economically and socio-culturally in the subcontinent, the joint families, arranged marriages etc as representing “South Asian-ness” if you will, will have to be tempered in order for it to be an accurate potrayal.
Ms. Roy for example, lives in Delhi, but she never writes about the more cosmopolitan aspect of Indian culture and I wonder if that is because, as a writer, purely from the economic perspective, the “South Asian-ness”
of characters/scenes fare far better.
For instance,”Dirty Harry” i.e. Khushwant Singh, who admittedly is not as gifted a writer as Roy,takes the risks of writing books centered on the evolving Social norms of a fast developing India, yet, his success on the world stage is non-existent compared to that of Roy’s and I suspect that much of that has to do with the fact that his characters/plots do not revolve around these stereotypical elements of South Asia that is expected of South Asian writers.
I know the above sounds disjointed and somewhat of a ramble, but, hopefully, you get the jist of it. :-)
kripa ji
CCP garnu bhayena ho!!!!
Kripa
Without a doubt (matching your ‘undoubtedly’ opener) it appears lucrative and less competitive in the ‘world market’ to stick to a ‘brand’ of ethnic portrayal, I think. But I prefer to restrain myself from making any conclusive assertion about those necessarily being the choices for writing what they write, not to say that is what I inferred from your previous post, not at all.
I know, especially in rapidly growing cities of South Asia, there must be so much to write about the transitional society—changing faces of social and cultural norms like you point out. Similar to how post-colonial writers milked the colonized-liberated transitional experience of certain ‘class’, I would not be surprised to see/read the changing faces of urban ‘elite’ portrayed as the new paradigm to be explored in the coming times, if it has not been the case already.
Lately, I’ve been so divorced from reading fiction that Kushwant Singh rings a bell but nothing more. Perhaps it’s got a lot to do with what you said—expectation of South Asian writers to write about elements people naturally expect them to, hence, any deviation from it leading to lack of publicity, especially in the west. I believe something conceptually similar is also touched upon in the interview above.
No, I think you make a coherent argument—it is time to be more diverse and inclusive in our own thinking, I suppose.
I was so excited to see a book published by a Nepali author couple years ago that I rushed out to buy Samrat Upadhya’s “Arresting god in Kathmandu.” While trying to flush after taking a piddle with the unread book tucked in between my arm and chest, I dropped it into the unflushed commode.
Not wanting to waste $14.95 I picked the book out and wet-wiped off the yellow remnants.
After having read it the next day I discovered I should have left the book in the pot. Not only was his writing piss poor but his veiled sexual reverie very shitty.
Ajatshatru,
..Lord that was hysterical :-)..what can I say, my profund sympathies for you having to laboriously rescue the “piss poor” book.
Unfortunately, redemption does not seem to be in the offing for Mr. Upadhyay as is evident from some of the preceeding posts.
Mystichacker,
Thank you for the response. I think it would be interesting to read South Asian literature that shows the “new South Asia” vis-a-vis the emerging socio-cultural ethos.
Haha Ji,
If I understand your comment correctly, I think you are referring to a similar thread on Sajha?. If that be the case, hajur, maile ta “Dirty Harry” ko term matra po CCP gereko, baki ta mero afnai thoughts hun ni :-)
kripa…jist sounds so perverse. gist is good.
I just wonder why his marketability has not been able to extend itself to other Nepali writers.
39….
y people are like that. they have just lost their mind. others hard work should be recognised and not thrown in dustbin after enjoying the readings. if you can do any better then show it then to tell it to be totally rubish..
Khushwant Singh isn’t as “gifted” a writer as Arundhati Roy?
Prawin,
It’s just my personal opinion which really ought not to count for much :-)
I love “Dirty Harry” and his all too often no holes barred diatribe on society’s mores but, my point was that when you place him on the same continuum as Arundhuti Roy there is a marked difference between the two.
Roy’s writing is fluid, nuanced and brilliant in the imagery that she creates; Khushwant Singh is, to me personally, more abrasive.
Perhaps there are no grounds for comparison since the two are from very different genres of literature and therein lies my mistake.
I hope other aspiring writers don’t do what I did and come to this website. The content is inspiring, but the criticisms and discussions make me want to never show what I write to Nepali people. At least, not to diploma-holding fabricators like you.
When I read a book. I either like it or I don’t. I don’t try to dissect the author’s brain with my inept tools and pat myself on the back because I found a reason to discredit him/her.
Why does the sex in his books so offend everyone. Because it’s not realistic? Because it’s not the “real Nepal” (thumps arm on chest). Because he “exoticized” our indomitably fulfilling and intellectually satisfying farce of a culture?
So what? What makes any of you think you know what “the real Nepal is”? What the hell is “the real Nepal” anyway, I really want to know. I want someone to show me so I can walk around stabbing people in the eye for not being Nepali enough too. That was what I put down on my college app, but they said it was inappropriate. Stupid Yale. Is there even something called a “real anything”? It sounds like something someone’s creative writing teacher made up because the class passed out. He was probably Irish too. “The real Nepal” this and that. Blah blah blah. So you grew up in some village and had to struggle all your life? So what? You don’t know crap about Nepal because Nepal is more than you. So you grew up with a mother and father that barely spoke to you because they were too busy hosting parties… So what? You think YOU know Nepal because you’ve managed to pull a Buddha with your newfound yuppy liberalism? Who gives a shit? Who cares how many towns and villages you’ve visited and how closely you follow the news back home with your high speed connection at your Tier 1 college that you acted like you really did not want to get into? Who gives a crap? Shit? Feces? Anus? Football?
Everyone has a solution for Nepal. Through religion and politics and literature and art. All of a sudden, everyone’s a goddamn expert because they have a computer and 512k down and 256k up.
Here’s my EXPERT (c) goddamn opinion: Don’t give a shit. Sit back, do some drugs, have some sex, write some nasty literature and let the academics and the muscle fiends wipe each other out. Then, after the “revolution”, just sit back and do some more drugs. Just don’t beat your wife (hmmm… is that what you mean when you say the “real Nepal”?)
I know what I’m talking about people. When I was growing up, we were so poor we had to eat the neighbors’ children THAT’s how poor we were. And I wear a Nepali hat every Sunday from 0800 hrs to 0801 hrs. THAT’s how Nepali I am.
Appreciate a book for its matter. For the story it tells you. For what it makes you think of. You don’t create hope out of “keeping it real” (thumps arm on chest) and just being a literary asshole. You create hope through imagination and fabrication. Through the “what if” and what the answer implies. You use books to learn about things that exist and matter, not some insecurity blanket ideal you wrap around yourself to find fault with the next guy in line.
“Well… he just isn’t Nepali enough, you see,” Mohan said, not realizing he sounded like a goddamn asshole.
What is writing but lying to make a point?
And if hope is not your thing… so what??? Who cares? Throw some hookers into your quniteseential NEPALI family. Turn those quaint NEPALI villages into extraterrestrial factories where poverty and ignorance is the new doomsday device. Turn that ugly palace into a zoo where the public goes to view its monarch and also where the public reassures itself of its awesomely awesome and intellectually sexual Nepaliness.
The point of these ramblings:
Until you write a book, shut your goddamn little bitch mouth. And after you write a book, you’ll be so busy defending your little caffeine-fueled tale against the latest school of idiots that you won’t have to piss all over someone else’s.
A degree called BS?/too smart to like anything:
Your personal annoyance with criticism is understandable. However, if you plan on being a writer, you can’t avoid it altogether can you? That would be impossible — there will be people who flatter beyond recognition and there will be those who hate you, and if you’re not prepared to handle either, you might as well hide your work for the rest of your life. An idea or a piece of work might have a very personal relationship with you, but once you let it out, the claim to it is not limited to you. By the very act of publishing it, you open up the claim to the world. Your work has a life and existence independent of you, and it may do just fine on its own without you having to stand up for it all the time (I’m thinking of a parent-child relationship, and I think as a parent you are being too possessive of the yet-to-be-born’s future). Besides, if one has something to say (a writer), one must expect opinion and reactions because we don’t live in a vacuum. What people say here or elsewhere (if not here, there are plenty of professional “smartass” reviewers elsewhere) should not make a real difference to your work; it doesn’t alter its quality. And besides opinions obviously vary. However, barring someone from disliking and analysing something is unreasonable. The right to do so is the reader’s, who is a receptive, thinking being. Hence, readers are not required to publish their own books to do so (if that was the case, writers would belong to a very closed elitist circle). Publishers have “bitch mouths” too. No reason why one should have the right and not the others. Nobody needs a degree to have an opinion. Everyone’s opinion may not be reasonable, but it is not reasonable to expect people to not have one either.
Oh, I don’t want to be a writer anymore. I want to be a sellout. I want to write books that are sold in 10 for $1 bins in some decrepit store that no one enters.
I don’t really, which is what causes the turmoil. But the freedom! You think Stephen King has to worry that 30 overpaid intellectuals that can’t solve any of the world’s problems but can “write papers” will lynch him for his latest offering?
Criticism has gone from being “opinion” to a genitalia-waving-contest (now you won’t have to use “” next time, because as we all know, you’re just too cultured and liberal to swear). It is no longer a reader throwing a writer an opinion. It is now the reader’s chance to shine. It is now the reader’s chance to show the world that he/she too, is enlightened.
It is the classic case of the Nepali “guest judge” that spends the entire session talking about her own work.
You missed my whole point. All I was saying was
1. that it is ridiculous to deem someone’s work NOT NEPALI ENOUGH. What qualifies people for this?
2. everyone is entitled to an opinion under the great liberal way, but when he’s the only slightly commercial writer our little country has, stop gloating over your GRE vocab for ten minutes and restrain yourself.
And maybe that’s the Nepali way.
Man writes book. The world praises. Nepali people hang him. Why?
Have an opinion because you had it. A lot of you here sound like your opinions have come straight out of a book that some other diploma junkie wrote.
Education… like a laboratory for talking rats that always produces big talkers and nothing but WAR! WAR! WAR!
Now Socrates or whatever your name is, please don’t concentrate on the last rambling I threw in here for fun and disregard the entire reply. But then again, I don’t want to tell you what to do…
Ladies and gentlemen, we may have found our Hunter S. Thompson. Norbu, are you listening??!! Damn boy, it’s friday nite, get off the keybord and hit the hookers lane.
What?, I get told “watch your mouth young lady” on samudaya all the time. That liberals and cultured folks don’t swear is a myth, they swear most lovingly. But moving along…
Why should the reader not get a chance to shine? I am fine with everyone sharing with others their enlightenment. At least this way, the chances of them realizing theirs is wrong is higher.
#1 I agree. And this is not only your (as a writer) problem. This is a much larger problem, and may I say not one strictly limited to Nepalis.
#2 I disagree. Show off your vocabulary, doesn’t bother me. Manjushree is commerical too, and what people think of her in comparison to Samrat hasn’t been based on who is more commercial. What they’re selling is different, but both dimensions are equally marketable.
The world praises Samrat? So what? The world also sentenced Socrates to death. (Aren’t you contradicting yourself here… what’s the difference between the “the world” and “books written by diploma junkie”?) Nepali people haven’t hung Samrat, exaggeration noted. I’d rather have Nepalis criticize him than like anything produced by a somewhat famous Nepali because “he makes us proud.”
ps. Having $1 books in bins is not being a sellout. That’s being a writer. Sellouts sell for a lot more.
Now, arm yourself against the wrath, and write something for samudaya!
It wasn’t the world that condemned Socrates. It was the Greeks. His own countrymen.
That comment had nothing to do with popularity whatsoever. Let me explicate:
I want to like someone for their quality as opposed to their nationality as much as the next Republican, but my whole argument is that Nepal is not in a position to do so. I don’t even know what position nepal is on - but let’s go with the on hands and knees catalogue for imagery purposes here. The country is not ready for yor harsh judgment and your booklist and your recommendations and your 9,999 word essays!
I’m not ready to be told exactly why what I have is crap - because, well, I have nothing at all.
I just hope they never make you a judge at some Nepali charity event.
“You people killed Soccrates! Your art sucks. Eat crap. I am so liberal, watch me burn my bra!”
And all the little fourth graders would cry as you burned their pictures.
Note this exaggeration too, but this time please note the point behind it.
Our critics are getting too advanced for our artists. How can people like you, who in all probability claim to be socialist in some way (am I right?), can be so aristocratic in others?
Could it be that the timeless adage (if by timeless you mean not timeless) that more money, less tolerance can be applied to EVERYTHING ELSE about the average individual?
I don’t even like his books, why am I here?
P.S. How can a literary witch-hunter like yourself consider those $1 bins to be “writing”?
Your argument that Nepal is not in a position to critique its own writers is “genitalia-waving-shite.” How is this an argument?, this was a mere statement.
Manjushree’s “Forget Kathmandu” has been my item of choice to give away as gifts. Let’s see, out of two Nepali writers who write in English, I don’t like one. Statistically proven that Nepal’s art is not good enough for me. Genius. What you’re saying (what position Nepalis are in to criticize) is not different, at all, from others telling us if Samrat’s Nepal is “Nepali” enough or not. Screw one Nepali telling another Nepali what he or she ought to do or not do to fulfill the Nepaliness.
I quote Miss Jharana Bajracharya, speaking of movies:
“If you always give the mass what they want, art never progresses.”
And if you’re so proletarian, what do you have against the $1 bins?
quote: Your argument that Nepal is not in a position to critique its own writers is “genitalia-waving-shite.” How is this an argument?
What the hell are you talking about? I said that “criticism” has become a “genitalia-waving” game - what “some people” refer to as a “dick-waving competition”.
I said that Nepal is not in a position to deal with overzealous critics with a bigger vocab than reading skills. You don’t go from having no English literature to having a thousand English writers overnight. Until we have those thousand writers, how about you use all your extraterrestrial intelligence to write a book of your own instead of dedicating your time to pissing on someone else’s.
Is it really that confusing? Am I really that stupid? Or are you just not reading my posts?
You’re a snob. Plain and simple. As financially over-pridgeled people are wont to look over the needs of the common poor, so are you wont to look over the needs of the common layman.
It has nothing to do with popularity. Stop here and read that sentence at least thirty thousand, nine hundred and seven more times because I think you’re not reading my posts. IT. HAS. NOTHING. TO. DO. WITH.
POP
YOU
LARR
A
TEE.
Don’t get confused. It’s the same word.
Let me quote Ghiraula Gyan Prasad as an outro because I just can’t think for myself. I only apologize that he isn’t on anyone’s booklist this semester, “You might be eating mashed potatoes, but the people back home are still eating alus.”
One more and this is Stephen Fry:
“I mean think about it, when a critic dies and goes to heaven and God asks him what he did for a living, what’s he going to say?
God, I was a critic.
A what? A critic? What does a critic do?
Well, God, a critic doesn’t really do anything. He just judges what other people do.
You think, hell was invented when the first critic died?”
I misquoted. Who cares.
It has nothing to do with Nepaliness.
(I love it how the “screw this” and the “screw that” is now flying in. True liberal. I feel you. I feel you not at all)
It is nothing about being a Nepali and supporting your Nepali troops.
Once again: Until we have a formidable base of writers, why don’t you take all your energy and intellectual criticsm and write a book???
Or is that just not as much fun as how smart you are because you hate what someone else wrote?
It has nothing to do with Nepaliness.
(I love it how the “screw this” and the “screw that” is now flying in. True liberal. I feel you. I feel you not at all)
It is nothing about being a Nepali and supporting your Nepali troops.
Once again: Until we have a formidable base of writers, why don’t you take all your energy and intellectual criticsm and write a book???
Or is that just not as much fun as telling people how smart you are because you hate what someone else wrote?
First off, mister, you are critiquing everyone here on the site and passing a judgement on my financials and privileges. Let’s not ignore the role of a critic you’re easily fulfilling (“Well, God, a critic doesn’t really do anything. He just judges what other people do.”)
Secondly, why do I need to write a book? I write content for this site and get slammed for it all the time. I’ve been taking harsh criticism since Jan 1st, 2005, on a weely basis at the very least.
Also, if you weren’t so angry, you wouldn’t misread my sentence. I said your argument is “dick-waving-shite”, i.e. not a good argument, a baseless argument, an argument that is not well-supported.
And why exactly does Nepal need a thousand English writers? How is this even an objective?
If you think people back home would enjoy mashed potatoes, then teach them how to make it out of their alus. Don’t sit here assuming they are only capable of eating alus.
OK SAME GUY WINS
So in the end, this all happened because you have criticism issues that you have been trying to avenge since 2001: A Space Odyssey?
Don’t take your insecurities out on me. Please. It’s boring and something I didn’t really expect from someone like you.
I do like this site. Why do you think I’m here? If YOU weren’t so angry, maybe you’d stop putting words in my mouth and taking everything I say SO LITERALLY (the $1 bin, the potatoes, 1,000 writers) long enough to listen to what I’m trying to say. You’re never going to be a revolutionary like this.
The entire time all I meant was that I don’t like artistic critics. Not textual, circular, circumstancial, sexual or graphical critics. I just don’t like people that spend time writing bad things about someone else’s writing. If you have that much time, write something yourself. That is all, O great one, that is all.
I don’t think “A real writer accepts critics” is a very appropriate answer. But then again, what do I know. You’re the one that got criticized as a kid or some crap like that. I’m just the dick-waving asshole actually trying to write a book and gaining a whole new perspective on just how deep the word “acceptance” can run.
I know the word acceptance cannot really run, please don’t laugh at me. I use these stupid things called extended idioms a lot. Still learning how to write. Maybe someday I can have a date of my own to spit at people.
“I’ve been criticized since 1972 so fuck you, you stupid idiot!”
Samrat Upadhyay might be a matter of national pride for Nepalis, but that does not mean he can not be criticized. All writers see it coming, so does Samrat, I’d bet.
National Pride? How many times do I have to say “not about National Pride” before someone listens?
There aren’t that many female writers in Nepal. If I advocate women writers, it does not mean I am a feminist, just that I like things balanced.
Criticize away like the perfect consumer, just not for “not being Nepali enough”, or for some obscure literary concept you just heard about from your Bohemian roommate.
All pretentious people here, please raise your hands. I want to see.
i never said that!!! “bitch” n “slut” was never my favourite words. this MH is cheap… somebody kick his ass.
Bugger!
This ‘same guy’ thing is a mis-fit idiot!?
Rambling ‘bout a fly in his arse???
Just wipe it off big boy!
And write ur book u half-shaken punk!
Dare it!
I don’t get it.
Just finished reading the book. The one and only reason for buying this book was that it was written by a Nepali in English and is available in the major bookstores in the US. Having read all the stories, I dont remember a single character’s name right now. Now you do the guessing.
Personally, I find this book very dry. Reader doesnt get any emotionally drawn to any plot of the story, atleast in my case. I would have read Manu Brajraki’s stories to feel nostalgic or even Kumar Gyawali’s sex-filled stories, both in Nepali, to get the feel of not-so-much-talked-about subject in the present Kathmandu. But, hey..different strokes for different folks. Maybe there are a lot of people out there who wants to buy a book written by a Nepali about Kathmandu in English and perhaps this is the only reason why he is being published and making some dollars. Good for him.
A Reader ..Same here.Anybody wants to read the book?I have.. if you don’t want to spend $13…Let me Know…in NY
so there are 66 comments on one article in a week or so… what does that really mean? we do care about our nepali writer and we have so many expectation from them. may be some of our expectation was really off the hook… may be thats what lead ppl here to insult author.
it was not his writting that was poor it was urs understanding and expectation that made it poor.. so sue u all….
to answer the same guy. it’s easy to criticize, and so much fun. now go home, think what you did to sarahana and the likes, you are taking out 34 years of being pulled-down-crap to these innocent liberals. okay…all the homosexual communists, please raise your hands.
always knew this site was popular among the maoist supports to spread their propagandas.
but didn’t know it was for queers as well…guess i should take that as a cue to stop wasting my time around here.
have fun ya’ll “wanna be intellectuals”
also popular among, ignorant, khuta tanne, narrow minded people, who prefer to have someone else do their thinking.
yes, have a safe exit. tata.
is anyone willing to sell me this book? interested…e-mail me at barun00000@hotmail.com…. apparently it has not yet arrived in australia.
khuta tanne re…
Bob, i wouldn’t touch your disgusting hairy legs!
Bob wants to see how much attention he is going to get in next couple of days:
he keeps on refreshing the page.
Bob is exhausted now.
you gave me all the attention i need, brother can’t you buy the book on amazon?
I was subtly expressing..but of course wanting a free copy!! so many good and generous people here not wanting to keep it.
Can’t buy it online, my credit card has been expunged for the third time.
You seem like a giving kind Bob, could you?
haha,
nice try
what kind of a person hahas poverty??
the worst kind.
go to a public library. or are there none down under?
Summary of Same Guy: Waaah, critics are so mean … we should treat our writers with kid gloved “opinions” even if they write mediocre books because, sob, sob, there are so few of them and we don’t have much literary history … and besides, the critics are sooo mean, waaah, and educated and liberal and opinionated and pretentious and learn obscure concepts through bohemian roomate osmosis, waaah …
Quick, someone stick the pacifier back into this whiny baby’s mouth so he can contemplate this … we have at least two writers of some international repute, with a few books under their belts, but we have absolutely no comparable critics … thus whiny baby should follow his own burping advice, shut the fuck up and go write a book of criticism until we have a formidable base of published, professional critics … makes sense, dunnit?
Fascinating comments and exchange of views although some of “the personalization” is downright obnoxious and counterproductive. Sorry, folks, I couldn’t resist offering a few random thoughts of my own on the e-pages of this website.
I am a new visitor to this website. I stumbled into it while doing some Yahoo and Google search on Nepali nationalism and Nepal’s ethno-cultural nationalism (janajati movement or what some may call a rising tide of “po-mo” ethnic pride and prejudice). I was looking for some research articles and thoughtful comments on this topic for a conference paper that I am co-authoring with a friend in Kathmandu. I did find one commentary on the “Crisis of Nepali Nationalism” by Prawin on this website.
First of all, many thanks, Sarahana, for embarking on this magnificent voyage!! It is a much-needed exchange outlet and we are all indebted to you for bringing this enterprise to us.
At any rate, I have found it to be a very valuable outlet to vent out our feelings and frustration that we all seem to harbor and share as migrants living in a foreign land where our identity has been deeply fractured and fragmented, a land where we are never fully accepted as a full citizen. We may be citizens of America (US) and proud bearers of that tantalizing “green card” (for which many of sell our precious souls — let’s not get into it; to many, it is much too personal and painful as we know all too well the length we are willing to go to aquire this trophy), but we ain’t no “American!” We may become US citizens, but we can never be that “blue-veined American.” Nor is our “other” identity — the one from our native land that some of us NEVER WANT to shed as if it is permanently injected into our blood stream and some CANNOT cast it away even when they try it hard — fully accepted by the parnoid American psyche. Just when we think we have crossed that hurdle and American psychic barrier, endowing us with an alluring sense of pride that makes us feel that we have “made it” in America with our Weberian work ethics, somebody will come along to remind us — subtly or not so subtly — that we are still damned foreigners, “foreign” American at best.
Mired in our inherent inability to transform ourselves into an American identity no matter how hard we may try and how many hamburgers and hotdogs we eat or “un-accented” we become) or have our other identity openly embraced and welcomed, we fret, fart, and fold about our identity loss. In other words, as we find ourselves ever doomed to this fate of fractured and fragmented identity as if it is our karmic chakra that no jhankri can exorcise, it is no wonder that we cultivate and bottle up so much frustration and anger within us.
So it appears that as immigrants to this land that I now call home, we are trapped in what may be described as the Freudian dilemma (tragedy) of aggressive (human) instinct and inherent human desire for economic comfort and security (Freud’s Civilisation and Its Discontents).
My point is that as we feel drowned in anger stemming from our sense of identity loss or denied identity, we sense the urge to “explode,” to demonstrate our instinctive human aggressiveness — to fight back and forcefully assert our identity. Simply to shout out that “I am somebody…. not just your goddamned foreigner. Ain’t taking no shit from you. Damn mother-fucker, you ain’t no different from me, you, too, are a product of your parents’ foreign shit, too……..” But we are muzzled by the imperative of civilizational civility and economic security.
But we have been renderred absolutely impotent; we have been turned into a herd of khasi for a variety of reasons; our tongues are tied and lips hemmed. Simply put, we can’t explode because attachment to our material secirity/trapping won’t allow us to explode without being labeled insane and possibly even checked into a sanitorium against our will. We tremble at the mere thought of exploding, “losing our cool” (we even feel utterly embarrased when we have to bear witness to our diasporic members exploding though extremely muted and mild) as we are terrified by the infective fear of losing all of our material gains, our beloved green cards and citizenship, cheap thrill of being privileged, and consequently being deported back to our “motherland” that we have deserted although we rarely fail to exploit a chance to evoke the name of Nepal, the land of khuris and bir gorkhali, often to express our profound concern about its well-being and aborted “democracy” — or perhaps simply our show of helpness as though we are trying to justify our “cop out” “muglani” existence in the comfort of American materialism, very “distanced” from the day-to-day grind of our “beloved” Nepal (don’t misunderstnad I love my Nepal). So we utter: “ke garne, yestai ho, hamro Nepal! satiko sarap (shrap) lageko desh, yo kahilyai banne hoina.”
[[Damn nostalgia — I must say it has its purpose as it offers some comfort, no matter how fleeting, to its lost “tribe,” giving its members a facade of unity in terms of their shared sentiment and culture! And, not to forget, chhwala and sekuwa and momos never tasted as good back in Nepal as they do in our diasporic trenches!! How could the Nepali diaspora, or any diapora for that matter, justify its refracted existence if it did not latch on to some nostalgic sentiment?! Praise to post-modernism that helps to keep nostalgia alive in the name of reasserting and reviving cultural identity of each and every group. As Jesse Jackson says, “Keep hope alive!!”]]
So, caught in the vortex of the Freudian dilemma, how do we release our aggressive instinct to prove that we are still a herd of bokas with raging hormone and ready to wage a “moral” (perhaps “mortal” would be a better word) crusade, not some passive and tamed khasis, we take out our anger and frustration on our own kind: the other Nepalis (and sometimes other South Asians and foreigners). We pick on each other, deriding and dissing insults at each other, resorting to name-calling. In other words, we have found a convenient way out of the age-old Freudian dilemma: We freely unleash our aggressive instict by picking on each other without any inhibition and social restriction imposed by the demand of civilizational civility while at the same time remaining cozily wrapped in the blanket of economic security and comfort offered by American materialism. Since no blue-veined “red, white, and blue” American gives a damn about us tearing each other apart, there is no need to be concerned about losing our civilizational civility; nor can they deny us our economic gains as long as they are hard earned as is the case with most immigrants (although in their eyes we are always the “other” whose identity is ever questionable). So there we go: we have our cake and eat it, too; we have it both ways. Ain’t that nice!
So you have my random thoughts to pound on. Make your day, my friends!
Back to the heated exchange on Samrat’s work, I can’t offer any legitimate comments because I have not read it. Nor will I have time to read it any time soon since I am bound to my professorial responsibilities until the summer arrives. What I would like to say, however, is that I find Mystichacker’s remarks quite penetrative (does not mean I agree or disagree with them; it is simply that I find them quite expressive and forceful, comments made with conviction. I also like the writing style). By the way, what’s going on, Mystichacker? You seem to have abruptly gone into hibernation; no comments from you since March 18 to be specific while Sarahana and Same Guy seem to be engaged in a (over)heated exchange (although it now seems to have cooled off). Why? I hope you have not lost your interest.
I do have a sincere question (no pranks; no funny agendas), though, for you (Mystichacker). Would you be interested in embarking on some collaborative writing projects? I do periodically write about Nepal and my Nepal experience (if you have a chance, read “In the Name of Development: A Reflection on Nepal” and I would love to have your hard-hitting comments. You won’t find me flustered by critical comments, no matter how blunt. The book is basically a social commentary based on real-life cases — my observational and insider-outside take on various issues facing Nepal and it is done in a narrative style). I would certainly be interested in collaborative projects if you are. Let me know. Here is my email: jif.mydog@yahoo.com
Nanda Ji,
1st lesson: try to keep ur blogs short and sweet w/o googling too much junk.
i doubt anybody read ur whole thing…it looks like barrenly stretched Gobi…!
bob
quit your yapping and dont read it if you don’t want to.
Thanks for your comment, bob.
“… barrenly stretched Gobi…!” Wow, that’s quite a metaphor, but I like it. Never heard of it though before. I assume you are referring to a crocodile. I have never seen one in person (only on nature shows); after all, I am a peasant boy from Pokhara. I have heard that they can be seen in the Narayani river, sometimes around Narayanghat. But wasn’t fortunate enough to live or spend time in Narayanghat for more than a few hours, in a way just passing by. Have you seen one — in person, that is? Aren’t all gobis basically streched? I must confess I have never been privileged enough to see a gobi that is ever coiled up like a snake. Well, so much for the metaphor.
To be frank, I don’t know how to address your point. What you condsider long and short is your decision and depends on your taste. I can’t make that decision for your, nor am I going to be necessarily constrained or swayed by your decision. And as X implied in response to your remark, we all have the right to exercise our freedom. So it is up to each of us to decide what we want — and do not want — to read and how much we want to read.
I have a fairly simple view of the issue you are raising, bob. Basically, I look at myself as a cook. As a cook, my job is to make something out of what I have and do the best I can in terms of preparing food. Once it is all done, I offer it to my guests. While I hope that they would all eat (and enjoy) what I offer them, I can’t tell them to eat. Nor can I require that they all enjoy what they eat. It is entirely up to them to decide with respect to eating and enjoying my food.
Hope this satisfies your concern.
(Mr/Ms.) Nanda Shrestha
How could I let that elaborate a comment go to waste without giving its due. My goodness, you stuffed ‘Nepali narrative’ wrapped inside a pretty juicy ‘American turkey’ way early into the oven, Mr. Chef! Then again, being a vegetarian, I wouldn’t really know the significance of ‘early preparation’, would I?
I think you read too much into my comments. But I am flattered, literally, especially coming out of an ‘academic’ (none the less a dignitary) like yourself. And I haven’t stopped commenting, really. Just the other day I settled my accounts straight with some loafers of samudaya.
Your proposal needs due diligence on my part, I suppose. Certainly, I will email you soon.
[I think he might have meant Gobi as in ‘dry and barren’ desert, although, with bob’s handicap, i.e. seriously lacking in ability to succinctly express, (for a person who prefers to read and drop one liners) new visitors can very well be misled into taking him seriously. Just giving you a heads up, that’s all!]
{ …and we all know the self-proclaimed and obsessive disorder of Mr Mystichacker who thinks he is the enlightened with articulation…sorry but I do not find so. Looong though, I have read his musings…which obviously he thinnks others are non-better. Samudaya seems to me is his best bet to create a smokescreen for expressions of his own and his half-bred intelligentia that comes with ageing without access to all forms of personal development in terms of mind,body and spirit.
I f anyone would like to go thru and scrutinize his i suppose best expressed thoughts…u forget it as u read it…articulation which he loves…i think the word itself more than what it is…is not being dogmatic rather exploring urself while with others.
MH sure lives in a little wolrd of his in Samudaya and seems to me has rested his zeal to explore world outside of his little ‘kuwa’.
And there are folks who say a lot but doesnt look overly stretched…and it aint difficult…it wud be fun and sth new if u tried it Mr cook from Pokhara.
Sir,
I did read ur posting…’barrenly stretched Gobi’(desert) (…and it is. )
I read it after reading ur 2nd posting only.
While I read ur post and thank god I did it…and now, i know who exactly u r…i have read ur book, ‘In the Name of Development: A Reflection on Nepal’
I found it very different in perspective and did pick up on some emotional reactions too while reading .
As I write this, its not that I do disagree on the perspective that u have written the book on, but I do strongly believe on LARGER socio-economic impact of development interests than the social trends that seems came along, all in all which I think is not parallel.
Myself, am a fresh research student at Princeton…and my proposal is based along Nepali Rural economy. I did note your e-mail meant for MH and want to keep in touch with you.
Are you still at A&M???
with Regards.
Shall I call you dyslexic, bob? Forget it, you demand so much attention that you seem to forget that you were the one to comment on ‘lack of goriness’ of agitation pictures you find on samudaya, conveniently overlooking the substance and reality it was trying to present. Now, as simple a task it is to look at the pictures and provide relevant remarks (if needed) you, bob, driven by your self-obsessed need to find yourself in the larger picture (whatever the hell that is) you constantly tumble into meaningless banter which frankly does not even deserve this response from me.
Yet, over and over again you like to visit samudaya and grace us with your juvenile comments (assuming different names, shall we attempt to strip you, bob?), all in your hopeless effort to attract attention. Alas, none gave you the credit you deserved, and you come out exposing your Princeton pedigree, all in a futile effort to muster some support from samudaya visitors, thinking, that would perhaps inflate your ivy-poisoned ego to the extent which will be able to lift you from ground and float you into the stratosphere of elitist academic setting where you continually dwell, which an average man life myself would find suffocating — those thin air of ivory tower.
Samudaya is not my ‘home turf’, bob. Neither do I have a say in who gets to say what. It is everybody’s, I think, just that it requires a little more sense and little less haughtiness to be a part of. It is not a ‘kuwa’ where people draw their own boundaries and expect to construct a perspective; it is a portal for expansion of such boundaries. Thus, my effort all this time (provided you admit to reading my musings) has primarily been to evoke those slumbered instincts and present it to the public in ‘writing form’, exposing myself bare in front of many people who read my articles and comments here on samudaya, in spite of the fear — accused of using samudaya as a ‘smokescreen’, which is quite distinct in style and approach from yours — lack of confidence in coming out publicly to present your case. What’s the matter bob, too afraid that the likes of MH would thrash your articles down the popular gutters?
i read it again and still doesnt make any sense to me…may b ppl find what u write good to READ[u write well in terms of English language-its just a comm. skill-doesnt necessarily make u wise]…and not use brain to infer whats written…i havent infered ANYTHING from ur posts until yet…now, i’m amused…haha…Im not too sure about my own reaction to u Charlie!
And I read ur so called articles too, and I cud sense ‘juvenile’ and too much pride in being able to comprehend one’s own ego…for that matter a self created smokescreen.
Thats that and other futile details u come up with wit, if u think is great…so be it.
Everything else shall continue.
And mind you, this ‘bob’ aint the same ‘bob’ who looks to have petrified many with his comments about pictures.
Yeah well, suck it up panzie..
how many of you are there, in amsterdam? a whole team of spammers united?
priviledged to travel around…are few.
bob
Feel free to contact me. Would love to hear from you. And, yes, I’m still at the same institution.
Dear lovely Sarahana (appreciation?)
i would appreciate if you can fix this username issue which is causing confusion among frequent visitors. ~Bir
Haven’t read the book, but it must be good.
Samrat is definitely confused and towards the middle seems to be absolutely labyrinthed. But, I must admit some his answers are really plausible and creative. And about the interviewer, I think you’d better start learning proper techniques to briefen and elucidate your questions. What’s the use of asking if the asker herself is so addled?
What’s so great about proper techniques to “briefen” a question? If a question must be asked, it must be asked in its full intention, no matter how winding it may appear to be, and how many details it may need to incorporate, and how much of a context. It seems to me that Samrat understood the very long question exactly as intended. That makes for an organic conversation, rather than a “briefened” one-on-one, where the answers are more important than the questions. And anyway, if one isn’t the least bit addled, then where is the room for new clarity, and where is the need to seek answers from someone else?
Hi sir.
I am a big fan of yours. I am a 12 year old boy studying in class-7 in nepal. I have also a deep intrest in writing just like you and i have just finished writing my first ever novel which is of 160 pages. I wish to get it published for which i need your guidance. Also i want a short comment on my book which i wish to place on the back of it. Hope to get a reply from you soon.
If you wish to contact me, my address is samratevergreen@gmail.com
i am so happy that samrat is getting a path to show the neplease context(slidly different from other south asian countries)in the west.though, he has not displayed the real character of neplease context, it is only the beginning, he should even try to bring the great output.the sex problems,psychological aspects and so on are not only the clear mirror of nepal.
bimal k. raut(nepal)
dear rajan,
some questions are long but very very good interview, this is ganesh dev panday from Nepal but right know i am at mumbai and working as an assistent director(sony tv’s show) i want to contact Mr.samrat upadhyay bcz i m intrested in his story i mean i am planning my frist project(indipendent film) so how can i talk to him plz so me the way
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i like that he pointed out nepalis claiming this ‘ownership’ over his work; like he is representing nepal and thus has a responsibilty to portray it a certain way. good old fashioned nepali arrogance.
samrat upadhyaya is a step in evolution. there’s no way he should be. for me personally, the fact that he’s writing at all is great enough. that’s as big a contribution anyone concerned with literature can expect from any writer i think. generalising, comparing, dissenting, assenting, all that is great but in the end quite fruitless i must say. specially the whole ‘subcontinental writer’ deal… critics are generally failed writers or un-disciplined journalists.
its fair i guess, to say whether a book is good or bad. but then not quite so to point out how is SHOULD be. high five to Samrat U for writing stories. i won’t say i’m crazy about what he writes, but hey, he’s done more than i ever will. so, good one dude!