History and a cup of tea- A chat with Timeri N. Murari; Sep 2004

We had to take optional papers for our third year, and one that I took was Journalism- The final project for which was meant to be an interview. I must make my confession: I never really did the interview as such. Mr. Murari is a wonderful person, with whom I've had many conversations, over the phone and during our rehearsals for our rehearsed readings of his book, 'Taj'. The rehearsal referred to actually did take place, and was in the banquet hall of the taj west end in bangalore. Mr. Murari's opinions are authentic, but certain facts like the biscuits were fabricated.

In the words of Oasis thus, don't believe the truth.

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“The Mughal Empire had fallen”, called out one of the actors in a solemn tone, as rehearsal for the reading of Timeri N. Murari’s ‘Taj: A story of Mughal India’ began. Historical figures rose up underneath the antique chandelier in the banquet hall, and spoke of intrigue, love, power, and the splendour of the Mughal Court. While Shah Jahan’s magnificent obsession with the tomb was being described, the author could be seen, quietly entering and leaning against a chair at the back of the long room. Listening.

T.N Murari is a quiet man. You can sense it in the way he sips his tea, at the tone of a wry joke calmly delivered, in the genuine interest he has both in conversation, and in the rehearsal of this reading of his ‘Taj’, re-released by Penguin to mark 350 years of Shah Jahan’s monument to love.

Murari has no qualms about calling himself a storyteller. "If I can tell a good story either on film or on paper " he says, pulling up a chair for me, " I am happy. I look at it as a craft”. It is this craft that brings Murari his extensive global readership: ‘Taj’ has been translated into eight European languages, and is on the best-seller list of the Literary Guild. In his historical novels set in India, it is the sounds, smells, textures and tastes in the narratives, and the basic human emotions that grip the reader. But why choose Indian History as subject matter for a novel, when almost every other writer of Indian origin chooses to eulogize urban India with all its colorful eccentricities? Murari laughs softly at that, and while refilling my cup, tells me about the Italian jeweler.
While at school in Madras, he was apparently told that the Taj was designed and built by an Italian jeweler, and this story was fully accepted, till an educational authority set the record straight. And later in life, when ‘The Imperial agent’ was getting published, American and British editors both wanted to put a picture of the Taj on the cover (never mind if it was only fleetingly mentioned in the book!)."It made me so mad," remembers Murari, "that their vision of India, especially in America, is limited to the Taj Mahal. I promised to write about it in my next book if only they'd remove it from the cover of my book at that time”.
Murari is passionate about the great stories of India’s past.” India had been there for a thousand years and you discover… it had a rich culture and a lot going for it. The British only re-invented it." Very often, Murari has faced criticism for writing about a time when there was a white imperial rule in India, which most Indians bowed to. He has been asked too, about using terms that are now politically incorrect: at a discussion in the Madras University this July, outraged students questioned the use of the word “pariah” in ‘Taj’. Murari at the time calmly wiped his glasses, and went on to explain how the word was used in context.
Murari’s other historical novels that deal with India at the time of Independence have also come under fire from critics. They have claimed that his books undermine the freedom struggle, and show the British in a favorable light. In response to this, Murari wrote an article in The Guardian newspaper, four years ago, saying: "This is a part of India, as much as the Mughal past, the Afghan, the Turkish. You may resent their rule but you cannot deny their place in Indian history. To do so is to be false, to be, blinded by resentment. They've shaped our minds and changed our future by their presence. There will come a day when history will be rewritten to deny their existence, but that history will be written in their language”.
“Takht ya takhta!” thunders out the actor who’s reading the words of Shah Jahan in Murari’s novel. “Throne or coffin” is the meaning of that Persian phrase, and Murari smiles immediately. He has always loved the blood and fire of the Mughal period, and has claimed that he enjoyed writing the Taj the most simply because of the research he did for the book. Murari blatantly states that his best research was done in the New York Public library, which ironically has entire collections of texts written during the Mughal period in India. None of these texts were available in any Indian library, such as that of the Aligarh University. Murari traveled from Kashmir to the Deccan, following the trail of the emperor Shah Jahan. What still brings an angry gleam to those intelligent eyes underneath bushy eyebrows, is that none of the Mughal architecture is preserved. In his travel, Murari came across countless tiny forts, campsites, and pillars all over Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh that were crumbling, unnoticed.

Murari spares no one his diatribe against those who cannot care for their own archaeological heritage. Why is it, he asks, that an American library has the complete collection of a part of Indian literary history, while in India we stick movie posters on monuments that should have been declared national heritage sites? He rarely receives answers to this question, but instead finds himself pulled into the ongoing, much-lashed debate over Identity and Indian writing in English.
At this moment, Maureen smiles, pushes back her pale blonde hair and comes to sit next to her husband. Murari takes her hand in his, and continues to tell me in wry amusement of the labels he has received over the years. He has lived and studied in a variety of places, ranging from Montreal to Liverpool, but his roots have always been in Chennai. In fact, two of Murari’s novels are set right here in Chennai. With his Australian bride, he has traveled and taught, written in newspapers and for television documentaries. Is it a conflict for him, an Indian who has lived abroad for so many years, writing stories of India’s deep past?
Murari laughs. And asks me whether I would like a good day cashew biscuit with my last cup of tea.
No, it is not a conflict he says, his eyes trained on the actors rehearsing. There is no choice to be made at all. “Identity? I’m Indian. I write books. Why does it matter?” Indeed, why does it? Murari, just as he sits at the back of the room during rehearsal, chooses to not step into the debates presided over by the literary intelligentsia of our country. He in fact writes on a range of themes. ‘The Shooter’, for example, tells of the story of a Brooklyn cop in America. ‘The new savages’ is a book about the riots in Liverpool. Murari has worked and lived in both places, and thus, without actually saying it, makes a final comment on his writing.
T.N Murari writes what he knows and what he has seen. He has a fine sense of drama and a word craft that can recreate the pageantry of a Mughal harem or the foggy streets of Liverpool at 3:00am with the same effortless skill.
He is happy to live with his wife in his ancestral home in Kilpauk, surrounded by memories of his family, as well as phone calls asking him about turning his latest book in a mini-series for hallmark. Why not, he twinkles- It’s a wonderful boost for my ego. Maureen laughs, and we sit back to watch the final scene at this rehearsal, as lights come on outside, and Murari politely asks a waiter to bring one more pot of tea. Wah, Taj. Wah, Murari.