Congratulations on making it to the “Asian Trio” of the 2024 Asian Prize for Fiction!  How does it feel to have your first novel for adults - Witch in the Peepul Tree acknowledged this way?

Shukirya, Divya. It is like the space you create in a lake when you step into it; the spreading ripples a brief acknowledgement of your tiny being in the vastness. It is rather satisfying to see the small ripples created by The Witch.
 

Have you had the chance to read the other two books that received this recognition? How does it feel to be part of a trio of authors whose work, in some ways, represents a voice of Asia? 

Yes, I read the other two books as well – The Woman Who Climbed Trees by Smriti Ravindra and Brotherless Night by V V Ganeshananthan. Both are excellent books. Most of the protagonists are women in all the three novels. And the three authors are women as well. We, the authors, are celebrating our identities as women of Asia, acutely aware of our challenges of parched throats and the long journey to the well that knows no distinction. 
 

Though this is your debut novel for adults, you have been a prolific writer of children’s books. What drew you to writing for young readers, and how has that early experience shaped your storytelling in other genres?

The child in me drew me to stories for the young. While growing up, my naturalist father told me bedtime stories every night. Russian folktales, tales of his own jungle adventures and the stories that he invented for me. Those stories threw open all windows of my imagination and connected me even more to nature. 

While the early experience of writing for kids (which I still do) helped me to the extent of forming a discipline for writing, I started challenging myself to write something different than whatever I’ve written before. 

I write poetry, travelogues, witty pieces, on serious themes and social issues, mystery, literary writings, on nature and conservation, for kids and adults. And hope to explore more forms, palettes, textures and flavours in my writing voyage. 
 

“Witch in the Peepul Tree’’ is a mystery that blends suspense, folklore, and the supernatural. How did the story begin for you? Did the idea come first, the characters, or the setting? 

I simply wrote what I felt like writing—a literary novel (that was not tedious) with the trappings of a mystery. My husband Aditya had been asking me to write a story around a family. Which is the family that you know best but your own? So I picked on my family history—the tall building in the walled city of Udaipur and the taller figure of my Dadaji, the monopoly holder of arms and ammunition business in the pre-independence Mewar (and the Vice Mayor of Udaipur later on), my Dadijaan Khurshid Banu, one of the initiators of women’s education movement in South Rajasthan, the tribals and Zamindars associated with them, and not to forget their beloved forests; though the story is completely fictitious. Since the tale is spread over one day of Makar Sankranti in 1950, it became a historical novel as well, which required a lot of work. 
 

And at what point in the writing process did you arrive at the metaphor of the witch and everything it stands for?

I used the legend of a jeevti dakkan (called by different names), a popular belief in some parts of India, as a metaphor to talk about cast, creed, gender and social conformity, the barriers that only exist in our collective imagination. From the very beginning, this was not supposed to be a horror or a supernatural story. I intended it to be deeply grounded in the social milieu of India. 
 

Our perception of 1950s Udaipur is shaped by the ongoings in the grand house, the dynamics between the characters and their interactions. It is intriguing that even though much of the plot unfolds in one confined space, it is not disconnected from the world beyond. What materials or sources did you draw on to bring the external and internal world to life? 

There were hardly any books or other material for me to refer to for that particular era of Mewar. Most of my research was centred on oral histories of experts in their fields (a retired senior police official, a knowledgeable Rajput friend of the family, a learned forest officer and so on) and mainly the collective memory of my family—my aunt Habiba: a socialist leader, my father: a wildlife conservationist, my uncle Rafiq: a hunting enthusiast of yore, and particularly my uncle Riaz: an educationist, Gandhian and a veteran of folk arts and culture, who was a true repository of the memories of Mewar. 

I realised historical fiction is no different than writing non-fiction, with the amount of research involved. Hearing it from the people who lived in those times made it come alive for me, helping me immensely to recreate a day of 1950 Udaipur. 
 

The plot unfolds on a single day, and while we are immersed in the action, you also gradually delve into themes of caste and gender, superstition, greed, and the clash between tradition and modernity. How did those elements start to surface in the story? While writing, did you feel a tension between keeping the narrative tightly focused on the mystery and allowing space for these broader ideas? How did you navigate that balance?

These elements are the foundation this story stands on. My grandparents brought about change, not by a clash of tradition with modernity but by taking the two forward hand in hand. They became the change they preached. Their children had interreligious marriages since 1960s when even Bollywood feared touching these volatile subjects with a stick. They fought for gender equality while keeping their deep bonds with their orthodox friends across religions and castes. I also wanted to bring out through The Witch how the abused can be an abuser. 

I didn’t feel the stress of maintaining a balance as the characters, the issues and the mystery were not set against each other. What a mother (Sugra) in her brutal love for her children can be capable of. How a son (Nathu) can get eroded by the virtue of a promise. How the lust for money (Hariharan) can consume one’s edges and core, and drive one to misdeed. And so on. 
 

The book has such detailed and diverse character sketches. Was there a character that you particularly enjoyed bringing to life or found the most intriguing to develop?

I became each character as I wrote them. Maybe Sugra was the most complex, and there were times when I struggled with her feelings and her helplessness, having a lump in my throat as I penned down her day.  
 

You have written extensively about wildlife, and even in this book, the forest stays in the background, with onomatopoeic sounds and passing descriptions of animals adding additional texture. You've spoken about your early influences with wildlife—do you think this connection will always remain a part of your writing, even as you explore different forms and genres?

The wild is not a part of my writing, it is a part of me. And it’ll reflect in anything I feel or do during my short stint on earth. 
 

In another interview, you mentioned that Urdu poetry has had a considerable influence on your life and that some of your characters in the book draw inspiration from poetry. Could you tell us more about this?

My family has had old ties with Urdu poetry. Our surname “Tehsin” is a “takhallus” (nom de plume) given to my great grandfather Allahbaksh, an acclaimed shayar and the pioneer of industry in Mewar in the late 18th and early 19th century.

The family inherited the love of the language and poetry. My uncles Riaz Tehsin and Rajnikant Varma were the first to bring a Mushaira to Udaipur with poets like Kaifi Azmi sahib, Nazeer Banarasi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Kunw. Mahender Singh Bedi ‘Sahar’ and others. 

Urdu poetry is so grand, deep and vast that you can find much by being lost in it. A sher can sketch out an entire character for you. For instance, this couplet sums up Parijat’s character, who despite being an “untouchable” manual scavenger and at the receiving end of the worst of atrocities, is a person who never loses hope:

Main ek qatra hoon par mera alag wajood to hai,
Hua kare jo samander meri talaash mein hai 

मैं एक क़तरा हूँ पर मेरा अलग वजूद तो है 
हुआ करे जो समंदर मेरी तलाश में है
 

What was the most interesting thing you discovered while researching this book? Were there any unexpected directions that emerged as you were writing?

There were very many things I discovered while writing this book. 

‘Sande ka tel’ was the oil with a dead goyra or monitor lizard in it. The oil was sold at high prices for curing ailments and as an aphrodisiac. The drains of the houses in the old city of Udaipur mostly ran in the middle of the lanes, not on the sides, diving the streets in two. There were demarcated colonies for some castes (like the manual scavengers and skinners) to live on the fringes of the old city. There was only one watch repairer in Udaipur, and no watch maker, as this was a rich man’s gadget. An upper class woman would break her matka on the street if an untouchable crossed her (the drinking water was believed to be polluted by their proximity) and demand money from the poor untouchable for the loss. 

A few surprising beliefs too. For instance, the notion that the irresistible flavour of the pulao made by Bohras was due to the use of the fresh blood of a child. And so on. 

The story did small directional changes almost daily coming across one detail/fact or the other. 
 

What books do you read and have they had any influence on your writing?

We have a library at home in Udaipur and I grew on a staple diet of Hindi, Russian and English classics, old shikar books, Tintin, Amar Chitra Katha and Tinkle. Some of the serious literature I read in those early days like the entire works of Khalil Gibran or Jim Corbett have had a lasting impact. I’ve drawn inspiration from many present day authors too like Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things with its gorgeous prose. 
 

What are you working on next?

A few books. 

I’ve finished my second novel for adults The Tale of a Magpie Robin. It’s a fast-paced mystery/upmarket fiction surrounding four friends and alternating between 2019 Colombo (Sri Lanka) and 1999 Udaipur (India). 

The Great Indian Safari for young children to introduce them to some of India’s wildlife and national parks. To be released in June by Puffin (Penguin Random House). 

The sequel to my non-fiction book Wild in the Backyard for Puffin (Penguin Random House). 

Divine DNA for older children, teens and tweens or anyone who wants to read about the animals in the Indian mythology, their evolution, history and their present state in India. This book too required a lot of research. It will be published by HarperCollins. 

I’m also working on a series of short books on different wild animals of India.  Have written a couple of books in the series. 

Annu Anna Wants to Run, a lyrical picture book on the journey of a grain of rice. 

And yes, The Biggest Little Birthday, a story around the birthday of a boy in the slums. To be published by hOle Books (Penguin Random House).