Until May this year, Banu Mushtaq’s days were filled with the sound of clacking laptop keys as she locked in to complete her daily quota of writing, the rustle of a turning page from the book on her nightstand, the scratch of a pencil moving over her notes. But since winning the International Booker Prize for Heart Lamp, a collection of short stories she wrote in Kannada between 1990 and 2023, her most common sights are cacophonous airports and book festivals, suitcases half-zipped by her bed, dozens of emails and a phone that won’t stop buzzing. Amidst it all, the one thing Mushtaq now finds slipping through her fingers is the very thing that rooted her in the first place: the slow, solitary act of writing.
When we meet at the Metaphor Lucknow Litfest, a free-for-all celebration of literature held in the heart of Hazratganj at Le Press, the 77-year-old author is reinvigorated from soaking up the city’s quiet lanes and historic monuments. “Yes, my life has totally changed since winning the Booker Prize,” she admits, explaining that where her days were once grounded in quiet legal work, activism and writing, they are now dominated by media attention, festival invitations and constant travel. “I’ve become accustomed to being on the move—airports, litfest stages, cities blurring into one another—but it’s left me with so little time to write, or even to think uninterrupted.”
Even the small details of Mushtaq’s daily life have shifted now. Things she once took for granted, like long chats with relatives over tea, calls with friends and relaxed mornings at home, have become rare moments tucked between commute, events and literary appearances. Thankfully, her writer’s mind is capable of finding inspiration on the go. “Wherever I travel, I note the history, the people and the experiences…and the reactions I get,” she says. “I file them away for use at a later stage.”
Mushtaq understands that this enforced writing hiatus is important, not just for her, but for the voices and the stories she represents. “It is a great occasion to celebrate,” she says, noting how historic it is for a South Indian language to have been recognised at the Booker level. For many writers, this recognition has brought voices long unheard out of oblivion. Perhaps it’s why literary figures from other Indian languages, including Malayalam and Telugu, joined in celebrating Mushtaq’s victory with such enthusiasm.
Before her Booker win, Mushtaq was deeply immersed in writing her autobiography, a project she’s eager to return to. “I need to complete it, the publisher is worried,” she laughs wryly, a reminder that even big wins bring a new set of expectations. She’s already recorded much of her early life up to her marriage, but the chapters on her activism and struggles remain unwritten. The author says those parts need careful reflection and uninterrupted time, something that’s been hard to find amid constant engagements.
