Marginally Speaking

Vijay and I have just returned from a literary seminar in Aurgandabad
University. One of the incentives, besides the hope that we would be
learning something of value from the academics, was that Ellora and
Ajanta were nearby. We – foolishly – presumed that we could make some
time to zip off…

I'm dizzy with the knowledge I gained in three days of listening to
learned papers. As creative writers, we thought we would be excused
from making memorable speeches.

Some hope. The charming HOD of the English Department was insistent
that we both speak on the theme of the conference: "Reinventing
Marginality. A Multidisciplinary Approach to Literature."

My, my. Too late to decline the invitation, so I got to work. Here's the gist:

In my medical college years and then as a young doctor, I read very
little besides my medical books and journals. You could call it the
ten-year starvation that left me with severe malnutrition in literary
matters. In my own way, I have tried to make up for this deficiency.
But academics eludes me. Visiting a university is a learning
experience, every time.

Marginality can be looked at from different perspectives: One is the
marginalisation of those ignored by society and 'pushed' to the
periphery. The very poor, the uneducated, the Dalits and tribals have
repeatedly faced indifference and oppression. In a foreign country,
the uneducated immigrant is often marginalised, like the unemployed
blacks in London; in the US, the poor black communities and the
Hispanics.

In India, the need for survival impels such people to take up jobs
that provide for basics like food, clothing and shelter. So we have
rural folk migrating in droves to constructions sites, quarries and
road-works. The delicate filaments of their own culture and tradition
which are particularly important to them snap and disappear; they
forget their mother tongue, their folk songs, their gods, their
families. It is a tragic existence, the ultimate result of which is
millions of people who must lose everything that is precious in life
in order to fill their stomachs. It is cultural suicide that happens
every day before our eyes.

The periphery or the margin is nothing but the blind spot in the
collective eye of the powerful sections of society.

Humiliation and loss of dignity are the worst outcome of
marginalisation. Having been denied the opportunities for progress,
marginalised communities take a long while to catch up with the rest.
No society can be complacent until it has addressed their sufferings.

How about me?Then there are people like myself and my husband who
chose to live on the margins. As a doctor, after my surgical training,
I've worked in small towns and rural areas. It was a personal choice.
My husband and I are both writers and as writers, we do not wish to
live in cities, if we can help it. Our marginalisation is voluntary.
It offers us a ringside view of society and the absence of too many
distractions.

Artists and writers often tend to live on the periphery. The muse
seeks quiet in which to nurture imagination and creativity. However,
many writers are able to produce their masterpieces even while they
live in cities. Their creativity feeds off the constant interaction
with society.

Many writers, in recent times, have moved out of cities.This does not
mean that writers do not like the limelight. We do, we do. I like
being made a fuss, of but only once in a while – that is, once in
three or four years, when I have managed to write a book and it is due
for release. This brief moment of fame with book launches, readings,
interviews, reviews and the fan-mail is quite wonderful but it is also
exhausting. It takes away several months of my writing life and I can
never make up for it. I feel frustrated for having spent so much of my
energy, apparently, for publicity. But then, I know that once my work
has gone into the public domain, I have to put in some effort in order
to draw attention to it.

For a writer, it is a privilege to be invisible.

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