Shyam Selvadurai – “Writing is a strange process”
At the Jaipur Literature Festival, the Sri Lankan-Canadian novelist spoke about his latest book, Mansions of the Moon, that revolves around Yasodhara, wife of Siddhartha Gautama, the man who became the Buddha
Mansions of the Moon is a historical novel of epic proportions. How long did it take to write?
I began researching the novel in 2013 and so, all in all, it took me nine years from this first step to the publication of the book, as it first came out in Canada in 2022.
How did you keep yourself grounded while sifting through all the research material that you had accumulated?
What kept me grounded and passionate about the writing process was Yasodhara. Once I was in her consciousness, I felt carried along by the passion of her thoughts, feelings and actions. Writing truly is a strange process, often mysterious to the writer themselves. And one of the things that is mysterious is this entry into a character and a world. It just sort of happens. Or it doesn’t happen, which means you should abandon the project. I remember distinctly when this moment happened with Yasodhara. It was the last day of this research trip I made to Nepal and I was sitting on the second floor of a café, and I looked out and saw a woman dressed traditionally, walking along barefoot, holding her little boy’s hand. And then suddenly she, Yasodhara, was there for me.
What was it like to write this novel at a time when religious sentiments are easily hurt? The Buddha is revered by people all over the globe. Did you worry about a backlash?
My approach to any novel that I write is to imagine the most intelligent, engaged, sensible, compassionate, and curious reader, and then write the book to them. For me, in order to write the best book that I can, I have to pitch it to the best possible reader. And while actually writing the book, the most important thing is to make sure that the characters and the world that you have created are alive on the page.
How has this novel been received in Sri Lanka and by the Sri Lankan diaspora?
So far, the reception seems to be great. Lots of people seem to be reading it in Sri Lanka.
You cite Ranjini Obeyesekere’s work on Yasodhara and early Buddhist women of the Therigatha as a key influence. Apart from feeding your novel, did it expand your understanding of challenges faced by contemporary female Buddhist practitioners?
Her work deals with ancient texts and not contemporary practitioners. She is a great translator and so the stories of these women were intelligently captured, and because she is a good writer, the lives that she portrayed felt alive on the page. That is what I also aspired to do in Mansions of the Moon.
We get to meet the Buddha’s stepmother Mahaprajapati in your novel but not his birth mother Mahamaya. What led you to take this decision? Have you ever regretted it?
I wanted the novel to stay focused on the relationship between Yasodhara and Siddhartha and how that relationship changes over time, thus reflecting the notion of impermanence that is central to Buddhist thought. As such, the work had to start with their meeting as teenagers, which is long after the death of Siddhartha’s mother. It was really important for me that the reader feel the romance between them and the married love they have for each other so that the dissolution of the marriage would also be emotionally felt. Some of my favourite reviews of the novel have commented on how, even though the reviewer knew what was going to happen to them from the moment they met, he felt riveted to their lives and propulsively followed their relationship. There is a particular kind of narrative tension when the reader knows far ahead of the characters what is going to happen. I love reading novels like this, as they are so tense for me — the reader. I wanted to capture that dramatic tension in Mansions of the Moon too.
Dreams play an important role in traditional Buddhist literature. What kind of dreams did you have while working on the difficult parts of the book? Did you ever find yourself stuck with a plot point, hoping it would get resolved in a mystical manner?
I seldom remember my dreams, and what I do remember are very mundane things. So, no, I am not one of those writers who sleep with a notebook by their side.
Tell us about your process with trying to understand what Rahula was growing through as he missed his father, the Buddha, but also held on to the rage inherited from his mother. Which texts did you consult to get a sense of how he has been represented before?
There isn’t that much on Rahula as child. Also, I think of the process of research as being like feeding myself before I go out for my day of work or exercise. When I am working or exercising, the food is giving me energy but I am no longer focussed on it. Instead, I’m focussed on the task at hand, fed by the energy of the food that I have consumed. So, once I have digested the research and once the door opens into the fictional world, I just go through and live in that world. I do not go back to the research, unless it is for some specific point or detail. This is because what I am writing is a novel, not an academic work. The “contract” with the reader is that you are going to immerse them in your fictional world and entertain them. That is why we pick up a novel. We want to be entertained and immersed.
The book is filled with Pali words, which help transport the reader to the world in which the novel is set. What kind of effort or homework went into this?
I used some Pali scholars who helped me with this.
To what extent has your Buddhist practice helped you with self-acceptance as a queer person?
Long before I came to Buddhism, I had completely accepted my gay identity. You see this already when reading my first novel Funny Boy, which was published in 1994. But here is the truth: as you get older and older, other things become important, such as, for me, Buddhism.
Chintan Girish Modi is an independent writer, journalist and book reviewer.