A Novelist on ‘Writing the Self’

Mridula Garg

The first issue of Phalanx included a discussion between two Indian poets in English about the rewards and pitfalls of their vocations in India. We continue the policy of allowing creative writers to express themselves discursively in this piece by Hindi novelist Mridula Garg, who explores the idea of covert autobiographical writing through the medium of fiction, as well as straightforward autobiographies.

Broadly speaking there are two ways of writing the self.

First, one can give a straightforward autobiographical recital of events as they have occurred in the progress of one's life, colored of course by one's interpretation of the causal process. The dimensions of the canvas covered by the content can be different, depending on whether the focus is on personal events or on the larger social, economic and political milieu.

Second, one can weave a fictitious character around the knowledge one has of the self, garnish the events with a dressing of imagination, aided by memory and present it as a story, novel or drama. This fictional account will project the self, not as it was but as it ought to have been or might have been.

My assertion is that the essential difference between the two is more of intent than of actual content.

Fiction is the more honest of the two because of the simple fact that, it accepts that the events, experienced by the writer in the personal or public domain have not only been reinterpreted but also fantasized. An autobiography refuses to accept that ego and angst play tricks on memory, coloring it with imagination in a manner so subtle that one can not be separated from the other.

In my role as a critic of my own fiction, I have strongly felt that any conscious attempt to write a true or honest portrayal of the self is self defeating. Whether one paints oneself as a paragon or a pariah, there is bound to be exaggeration bred of familiarity, which is really another name for prejudice.

I would call an autobiography, a dignified version of a confessional. Most of the time, it is a literary form that crafts expressions of self-indulgence or self-laceration. One of the most celebrated autobiographies of the modern world is Mahatma Gandhi's The Story of My Experiments with Truth. Despite a perfectionist's laudable and largely successful assay at honest and unbiased rationality, it is still heavily loaded in favor of exaggerated self-laceration. Lesser works by lesser mortals tend to sway between self-glorification and self-abnegation, without settling down to a proper sifting of fact from fiction.

Two qualifications need to be made here:

1.

When I say autobiographical accounts are colored by the individualistic interpretation of the causal process, I do not imply that textual historical writing is totally free of this malaise. Far from it. We are all familiar with the adage that history is always written by the victor, that is, it is written from a particular world-view or that it mirrors the writer's viewpoint or interpretation. Still factual events play a far more pivotal role in the writing of history. The simple reason being that however slanted or biased their inclusion or exclusion may be in it, the choice of events can not be wholly arbitrary. Since it can be exercised in a far more arbitrary manner in an autobiography, personal opinion can and does take precedence over facts.

2.

Autobiographical accounts by fiction writers tend to be more flawed than those written by others. Fiction writing, by its very nature, requires that the writer fantasize his or her experiences. Having done that as a matter of course throughout the creative period, it is difficult to give up the habit of a lifetime when he or she comes to write an autobiography. Most writers settle down to writing an avowed autobiographical account after reaching a ripe old age. To call a spade a spade, when they find themselves no longer able to cull up the passion required for penning a work of fiction. In any case, they would have already used up the most momentous and dramatic events in their fictional work. The autobiography is usually a pale rehashing of the events with more scandal value than meritorious purpose.

An exception to this may be seen in case of autobiographies written by first generation writers like the dalits in India or the blacks in America. A few first generation women writers may also be included in this category. They would be the ones who write an autobiography before assaying any fictional work. The character of the work would be closer to a first novel by a second or third generation literate, non-subaltern author, who drew heavily on autobiographical material but was averse to writing a straight life story. The reason could be self-censorship or ambitions of renown for creative penmanship.

At the risk of ruffling some feathers, I have to assert that the great flurry of autobiographies written by young women, which has appeared in recent times is very largely influenced by the market's demand for voyeurism. The women are, I guess, largely incompetent or unwilling to pen a work of fiction.

As opposed to autobiographical writing, creative fiction becomes possible only when the self rises above both indulgence and laceration to take on the mantel of an impartial bystander. It is not easy to distance oneself from the emotionally assailed self and assess its actions and feelings as an unbiased spectator. But who said creative writing was easy!

We must remember though that the creative process is primarily a search for a craft to express the experienced world and it’s fantasized re-creation in the form of a story, novel or drama. In the absence of craft, we would at best, relate our experiences as anecdotes and memoirs. A story or any other genre of fiction is crafted / created when we go beyond the actual experience, mix it with other memories lying dormant, spice it with a fair dose of imagination and serve it as an experienced reality, more believable than the shallow reality around us. Since reality is always colored by one’s perception of one’s life and time, fiction is more than a description of reality, it is also a critique. But the success of the craft lies in creating an illusion that it is only recounting life as it was live or telling a tale, which the writer happened to see or hear. That is to say, the more a piece of fiction appears to be autobiographical, the more successful it is as a creative work. An autobiography, which presents itself as a truthful account of the life and time of the writer, is at best a masquerade.

To fully understand the relationship of writing to the self, we have to address two questions. What is the definition of self and why do we write?

In answer to the first question, I would say that the self is something, which has to be discovered by each individual and may or may not be in accord with the general definition of what is normal. Unfortunately, normal is usually a synonym for pedestrian or commonplace. There is a thin line, which divides the unusual from the abnormal. The search for the self by an extraordinary person may lead him to discover himself to be either unusual or abnormal. I want to quote from the real life account of a gifted child called Dibs, to substantiate this. His nonconformity and consequent non-communication with the commonplace outside world, made those in authority declare him retarded or mentally challenged. He was finally able to worst the system with therapeutic help to realize his potential as a wise rebel. I quote the letter he wrote when he was 15 years old to a newspaper, from the book, 'Dibs in Search of Self' by Virginia M Axline to substantiate my assertion.

"This is an open letter of protest against the recent dismissal of one of my classmates…I am indeed indignant at your callousness and lack of understanding and feeling. It is whispered that my friend was 'suspended with dishonor' because he was caught cheating on examination. My friend said he was not cheating…he was verifying a date- an important date in history- and since accuracy of date is essential to establish its very existence, then it should indeed be verified.

"I think you fail to understand the reasons why we sometimes do the things we do. Do you call it a failing if a person seeks to verify accuracy? Would you prefer that he cloud his honest doubt in ignorance? What are the purposes of examinations anyhow? Are they to increase our educational attainment? Or are they instruments used to bring suffering and humiliation and deep hurt to a person who is trying so hard to succeed?
"… There are things far more important in this world than a show of authority and power, more important than revenge and hurt. As educators, you must unlock the door of ignorance and prejudice and meanness. Unless my friend is given your apologies for this hurt he has received to his pride and self-respect and is reinstated, then I shall not return to this school this fall.
fall.
"With sincerity and intent to act, I am,
"Sincerely yours,
Dibs."

There are two conclusions that can be drawn from this letter.

1.	We have here a small child, diagnosed to suffer from brain damage because he sat mute and unmoving all day in the classroom, did not speak or communicate with anyone at home and had violent tantrums. If he could write the above letter at the age of fifteen, showing qualities of leadership, sensitivity, and new ideas, then we must conclude that the societal preconception of the self is flawed.
2.	We can not write about the self unless we can successfully answer the question; what constitutes the self? Is it the power or authority it wields and the conformity it shows to the dictates of power and authority or is it the desire to question and ascertain the veracity of the reality?

There is no single straightforward answer. Different people have different perceptions about the self. One person may look inwards towards it, so that all external parameters are perceived to lie on the periphery and acquire substance only when they are internalized. Another may perceive the self as something formed and guided by the external parameters, that is, society, cultural inheritance and the prevalent ideologies and credos. He may approve or disapprove of them. He may probe the darker side of this wider self or seek to preserve the brighter aspects. In either case, he will define the self in relation to the external reality. All we can affirm with certainty is that creativity is closely related to a search for the self, whether perceived as an internal or external reality.

According to the psychological theory of creativity, there are five independent dimensions of personality namely, extraversion, neuroticism, openness to experience, agreeableness and conscientiousness. Of these the dimension most closely related to creativity was found to be openness to experience. This very openness also puts creative people at risk of insanity. Several data and biographical studies have shown that creative achievement and insanity are related to each other as more than chance. In fact they may share the same genesis.

This very suspension of both dogma and disbelief, however, makes fiction best equipped to investigate the complexities and contradictions characterizing the self. The fictionalized account can address the demons and the pitfalls; the dilemmas and the indecisiveness as well as the spurts of energy and sublimation of the instinctive urges of the self because of the openness to experience, which is the definitive mark of creativity.

There is one challenge that all attempts at writing the self have to face and that is of not keeling over to fall prey to the ever present threat of insanity. At least long enough to produce a sane piece of work. By sane, I mean a work that stands true to its inner logic.

This brings us to the second question. Why do we write?

One writes because one is not ready to accept the world, impinging on the self, or the self formed by the environment and the accepted value system at their face value. One has a vision of an alternate world, which is substantially different from the given world and in which, the self too takes on a different form.

I believe that fiction touches the commonplace with passion and turns it into art. It touches the tragic with the comic and reduces the bombastic to the absurd. It gives hope to the hopeless, goads the complacent to rebellion and generally plays havoc with the given ideas of right and wrong. It is therefore eminently suited to undressing, probing and dissecting the outer self to reveal the inner layers.

Some writers may not, of course, succeed in shedding the mores and prejudices imposed by the existing world and end up believing it to be the only reality. Once they take the reality as a given quantity, they would be satisfied with portraying the world and the self as immutable, unless outside powers, which are beyond their control, change the system. They would then use their writing prowess to try and preserve the reality in its pristine form.

In most cases, however, creative writing concerns itself with the need for change. This change, again, may be perceived either as a change in the self or as that in the external reality.

Realistic writing or reformist writing concerns itself primarily with change in the external reality. The writer is disillusioned not with himself but with others, who occupy positions of power and authority. He feels that the way to fashion a different world is by either revamping the establishment or by putting pressure on it so that it starts a process of change in the existing social mores, value systems and power equations. In both cases, change has to be brought about in the external environment through external forces. The self needs to change only to the extent of a deeper understanding of these external forces and for embarking on greater activism.

The other kind of writing, which leans heavily on an understanding of the psyche of the individual, proposes that change in the world is concomitant with a change in the self. It not only embarks on a search for the multi-layered, complex self but also undertakes to construct an honest critique, viewing it in the larger perspective of the external reality. Well, as honest as possible.

Disillusionment with the outer world remains something of a farce unless one is disillusioned with oneself to a greater measure. A truly great writing is one, which effectively combines the critiques of the internal and the external selves.

Almost all fiction writers are amateur psychologists. They probe into the psyche of their protagonists, put them in unusual, demanding situations and try to chart their behavior. Practicing psychiatrists may well balk at their attempts but I guess the writers can hit back by asserting, they may be technically trained but we have commonsense. After all, two of the most famous or infamous Freudian precepts, the Electra and Oedipus complex were first aired in the Greek tragic drama.

What lends greater credence to fiction's assays in the realm of psychology is that instead of issuing linear or one-sided dictums regarding the behavior of the individual characters, it leaves it to the readers to fathom a solution from a multiplicity of options. The actual solution is one favored not only by psychological theory but also the author's philosophy of life. A case in point is the celebrated Hindi novelist Jainendra's Tyagpatra. The chief protagonist Mrinal, a newly wed young woman confides in her husband about a pre-marital love, only to find that he gives a fig for honesty or truthfulness. Cast away by him, she goes to live with a lowly, uncouth and violent coal seller and gets pregnant. After the baby dies, she shifts to the slums to serve the outcasts and rejects of the land. When her well-heeled nephew comes to take her home, she spurns him, saying, 'Is your house big enough to accommodate all these outcasts? If not, I am not interested in going with you alone.'

The question which has exercised readers for a long time is: is Mrinal a masochist, bent upon self-laceration or an ascetic, full of love for the lowly and the poor, intent upon serving humanity?

We may well ask, if her object was to serve humanity, why did she opt to live with a boorish, uncultivated fellow? Did she have no other option open to her? We know she did. She was an educated woman, who had been a teacher. It was her insistence on telling the unalloyed truth, which got her in trouble each time.

Modern rationalist readers insist that Mrinal is a masochist, who has got into the habit of punishing herself because of the childhood trauma of getting beaten up by her sister-in-law for receiving a love letter. Others look upon her as a dedicated philanthropist, devoted to social service, a minor Mother Teresa.

The explanation may not be quite so linear. We have to go beyond psychological theorizing and refer to the author's world-view to find the real explanation. The common thread running through Jainendra's novels is that of disillusionment with the hedonist urge. He felt that the only real freedom came from the renunciation of all desires. Since an ascetic wanted nothing, no one could exploit him. Since he had no desires, nothing could hold him in bondage. He was free forever of the tyranny of the market, the dominance of material goods, the emotional hold of relationships and the dictates of society. If we look at Mrinal from this standpoint, we have to concede that she is a woman of singular courage, who succeeds in discounting the mores practiced by society. In the process, she obtains a sense of complete freedom. She can in the end sublimate her personal renunciation to identify with the poorest of the poor. She lives with them and serves them, not from a sense of duty but as a fulfilling pursuit.

We find that the self has so many complexities and contradictions that it is not possible to see them all, if one is too close, as one is when writing an autobiography. Since creative writing depends in large measure upon looking at things from a distance, a novel can do far more justice to portraying the self.

In this respect, my favorite is Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov. The wide spectrum of characters, ranging from the lecherous Karamazov pere, the carnal Dmitri, the anarchist and intellectual Ivan, the half-witted Smerdyakov, the spiritual Alyosha, the ascetic Father Zossima, the earthy Grushenka, are all put in the writers' laboratory of human emotions, to help him reach logical and replicable resolutions. It is hard to imagine any of those characters writing an account of the self with even half the depth or incisiveness.

In conclusion I repeat that the self is constituted of two layers of consciousness; internal and external. Internally it is a complex and often contradictory mix of rational and intuitive persona. Externally, it is formed by an interaction with the historical experience, the collective memory, the social milieu and the value system. It is always a difficult endeavor to write of this self. But with all its limitations, fiction remains best suited to do it.

Born 25 October 1938, Mridula Garg took her Masters in Economics in 1960 and worked as a lecturer in the Delhi University for three years. She has published 27 books in Hindi, which include 6 novels, Uske Hisse Ki Dhoop, Vanshaj, Chittacobra, Anitya, Main Aur Main, and Kathgulab; 80 short stories collected in 2 volumes under the title Sangati-Visangati, 3 plays and 3 collections of essays. Chittacobra is available in German and English and Kathgulab in English, Marathi, Malyalam and is currently being translated into Japanese. Her plays include Ek Aur Ajnabi, Kitni Qaiden and Jadoo ka Kaleen which have recently been translated into English. She was awarded the VYAS SANMAN for her novel Kathgulab in 2004. She is also the recipient of the Sahityakar Sanman Hindi Academy,Delhi; Sahitya Bhushan, U.P. Hindi Sansthan; M.P. Sahitya Parishad's Maharaja Veersingh All India Award for Uske Hisse ki Dhoop (novel), and Seth Govind Das All India Award for Jadoo ka Kaleen (play); Hellman-Hammet Grant for Courageous Writing from The Human Rights Watch, New York. She writes a fortnightly column, Kataksh in India Today (Hindi). The columns written during 2003-2006 have appeared in a book, Kar Lenge Sab Hazam.