By Dhanuka Dickwella

” An award-winning writer, Saras Manickam’s story, ‘My Mother Pattu’ won the regional prize for Asia in the 2019 Commonwealth Short Story Contest. In 2021, it was included in the anthology, The Art and Craft of Asian Stories, published by Bloomsbury, and in 2022, it was published in The Best of Malaysian Short Fiction in English 2010-2020. Saras Manickam worked as a teacher, teacher-trainer, copywriter, Business English trainer, copy-editor, and writer of textbooks, school workbooks and coffee-table books while writing short stories at night. Her various work experiences enabled insights into characters, and life experiences, shaping the authenticity which marks her stories. She also won the 2017 DK Dutt Award for her story, ‘Charan’. Some of her other stories have appeared in Silverfish and Readings from Readings anthologies, while one was shortlisted for the 2021 Masters Review Summer Short Story Award. She lives and works in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia “

How would you describe yourself ? Since we strongly believe that stories bring our own lives to the world, It would be interesting to learn more about your background and what drew you to writing. Can you share some information about your personal journey as a writer?

I can’t answer the first part of this question because the reality is, I lead an ordinary, quite boring life and that rips into any kind of mystique that I might want to cultivate. (Grins). However, growing up, there were stories all round, from the books that my parents read, from the visitors who’d tell their stories; from women gathering together to talk and share, about their lives as well as the lives of others. Yes, they gossiped and I subconsciously picked up on stories of lived experiences. In the university, some of my stories got published in a local women’s magazine called ‘Her World.’ When that happened, I thought, ‘I’ve got this. Writing is easy.’ Except that was nonsense of course. I got regularly rejected after that. In the meantime, I worked as a teacher and later, teacher-trainer and wrote school workbooks on the side. At night, I’d write my stories because I truly fancied myself as a writer. When I resigned from government service, and began to work as a free-lance copywriter and trainer, I was still writing school workbooks and short stories. The schoolbooks were way more successful than the short stories that were still a major fail. Then, a couple of stories got into local anthologies. I took creative writing classes from
an extraordinary coach, Sharon Bakar. Won a couple of local competitions. Went to Prague to attend the Prague Summer Program for writers. Went a few times. Kept writing. Kept getting rejected. Won the regional prize for Asia in the Commonwealth short story prize in 2019. Kept getting rejected elsewhere. Kept writing. Got enough stories for my debut collection, ‘My Mother Pattu’ published by Penguin SEA in May 2023. Elsewhere, my individual stories still got – yes – rejected. That’s the story of my life, basically.

Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind “My Mother Pattu” and what motivated you to explore these complex themes?

Growing up, we constantly had visitors. I got to listen to the women as they shared stories. I listen to women and heard about women facing challenges every day in their lives, from men, the patriarchy, from the communities. Many women had their lives changed or shortchanged because the men in their lives made life decisions for them. Many of the women seethed quietly. Some, like the character, Pattu, were full of rage, inflicting their anger onto the nearest weakest person.
I was young, naive. I saw things in black and white, detesting the abuse these women inflicted on others. Taking the high moral ground, I wanted to write stories that showed up these awful women and suitably ‘punished’ them.
It took years (and a gazillion drafts), and life experiences of love, laughter, loss, grief and pain before I came to look at these women with more empathy. They were strong, capable, beautiful, intelligent – yet, they had no agency in their lives.
It was only when I understood that women, and men too, were complicated, complex, without a one-size fits all, that I could write about them with any measure of justice.

The book features a wide range of characters. Could you elaborate on the character development process and how you approached it?

I am unfortunately half-sloth and it takes me ages, years to write a short story. Some writers write easily and quickly and perfectly. I hate them all. In my earlier drafts of some stories, I was sure of the direction the story would take. I knew how the characters would react; what they would say, and what would happen to them. I was the master puppeteer, see. Except, those stories didn’t work. I wasn’t telling the stories the characters wanted to reveal. I was directing the story as I thought fit. Those stories failed spectacularly. I had to learn to trust the characters enough to let them tell their own stories. I had to respect that the narrative they wanted to tell was the right one for them. I had to shut up, take a step back and stop interfering and ‘directing’ the flow of the stories. When I scaled back on authorial interference, the stories worked.

You discuss the racial prejudice and hatred discrimination which is not uncommon in the society you live in. Can you share your perspective on how these themes are addressed in your stories?

Prejudice. Discrimination in society, communities. They’re tricky beasts. We can’t run away from them. Yet, how we explore them reveals as much about the author’s own bigotries and hang ups as of the characters. While keeping authorial interference minimal, I didn’t want characters spending all their time on the pages, whining away about their victimhood or playing the victim card. That would be boring. I needed to explore as honestly as possible, how the characters faced up to the changing circumstances in their lives, how they refused to look away; how they sometimes realised perpetrators can also be victims and vice versa. I needed my characters to realise bigotry can be a two-way street. At the same time, I had to not get up on my high horse and peddle a morality lecture. Speaking for myself, I am a story teller, not a social activist. I have to tell the truth of what I see, and how things are, as openly as possible, showing all sides of the situation, giving the reader the freedom and space to make their own value judgements; and to initiate conversation.

How does the multicultural aspect of the setting of the book contribute to the stories’ impact and the narrative? What do you hope readers will take away from these cultural explorations?

The funny thing is I didn’t think of all these elements when writing the stories. I wrote about people, places, stories I knew and they all happened to be set in Malaysia, a place I know quite well. The focus was on writing a story, and giving it everything I had. When the book came out, many people from other countries, mentioned that they connected with the stories and that I was writing about their family or people they knew. It then occurred to me that perhaps a good story is a good story, transcending racial and regional boundaries. Having said that, many, many Malaysian Indians connected with the stories, saying it was their stories as well. It is an immense privilege when readers tell you that.

Identity and belonging are recurring themes in your book. How did you aim to challenge conventional notions of identity through your narratives?

It is the story of diaspora all over the world. Which country do you belong to? Where does your loyalty lie? If you are born in Malaysia (I consider myself 3^rd generation Malaysian since my grandma came here when she was just 4 years old), live and work in Malaysia, you are Malaysian and your loyalty lies in Malaysia. I don’t think there’s a single Malaysian who thinks otherwise, Indian, Chinese or other. Except, sometimes, loyalties are questioned or dismissed and this needs to be put out there. The stories talk of belonging and identity in a country that pays a great deal of attention to ethnicity in all ways. I could not ignore the themes of identity and belonging because to do so would be dishonest. I wanted to call it out, give it a name and put it out there, the lives of ordinary folks of all ethnicities whose lives are quite determined by their race and religion. I didn’t want to manipulate opinion – I wanted conversations.

How did the winning of the regional prize for Asia in the 2019 Commonwealth Short Story Contest for ‘My Mother Pattu’ influence your career as an author?

First, the back story:
I realised a great number of people had invested generously in me, freely sharing their time, their experiences, their books, giving me feedback on my work. I can never acknowledge enough my creative writing coaches and writing circles.
So, when I won the regional prize for Asia in the Commonwealth Short Story Prize, I knew it was time to honour my coaches and friends. The only way I could do that was to come out with a collection of stories. I wrote new ones, revised and polished up existing ones and then I had 14 stories that could be confidently offered to a publisher. I chose Penguin SEA (it’s Penguin!) and luckily, they accepted my submission.

Now, the answer:
Winning the regional prize for Asia opened doors and I will be always be indebted to the Commonwealth Short Story Prize for that. It made me realise I had some talent after all, and had to honour it instead of just posturing. You know what I mean? I began to take my craft seriously. I worked at it. And worked at it … I read and reread books I loved, to study the author’s craft. And I wrote. It was hard but exhilarating work. I haven’t got it all right yet, but the thing is winning the prize gave me confidence and courage.

Can you share any upcoming projects or future plans as an author?

I’m a writer, so I write. Because I’m also half-sloth, I don’t write everyday, or consistently or with great discipline.
I’m writing short stories. The first drafts are always absolutely awful. The first few, actually. So I potter away at them and learn to trust the characters and their stories; learn all over again to step back and stop with all the authorial interference. And I write. That’s pretty much what I do.