(A man walking on a street in Patna, by Abhinur Singh Anand, via Wikimedia)
What does it mean to be a Bihari in the Indian imagination? Does this mean you are an uneducated, poverty-stricken laborer with nothing to do back home during the pandemic? towel And the weight of an odd stereotype? Consider the media-driven image of a Bihari: unfortunate laborers streaming out of cities like Mumbai or Chennai, or Punjab or Kashmir, their struggles being splashed across newspapers. The invisible worker becomes visible only when he walks barefoot on the highway.
Or does it mean that you are naturally incapable of reaching those refined heights of sophistication that a Delhiite or a Mumbaikar believes he has so gracefully achieved?
Having fallen victim to this caricature, I have often heard the “compliment” accompanied with a smile: “Oh, but you are not like other Biharis.” Thanks for the backhanded approval.
Frankly, this one-dimensional narrative is as old as the Ambassador car. Bihar has a remarkable habit of producing people who break the mold and prove that sophistication or intelligence is not about the geography of your birth, but about the breadth of your mind. One such person is Bihar migrant and famous writer Tabish Khair, who lives in a small town in Denmark. Of course, Tabish has not been untouched by parochialism. As an expatriate Bihari, he has faced his share of subtle criticisms and outright prejudice. But rather than succumb to the burden of stereotypes, he turned it into fuel for his books. His collection of poems and novels, written over 25 years in both India and Denmark, is filled with the sly humor, biting observations and sharp criticisms that come from seeing the world through the eyes of an underrepresented person.
Born in 1966, Tabish is a renowned writer with a diverse body of work across novels, poetry collections and academic studies. His notable novels include How to fight Islamic terrorism from a missionary position (2014), Just another Jihadi Jane (2016/17), also published as Jihadi Zen in India, and happy night (2018). His poetry collections include where parallel lines meet (2000) and glass man (2010). As an academic, he has written extensively on topics such as post-colonialism, xenophobia and Indian English literature, notable works including Babu Fiction, Gothic, Postcolonialism and othernessAnd The New XenophobiaNow he has come up with a new nonfiction work, literature against fundamentalismWhich is as adventurous as it is timely.
Why are stories more important than ever?
Imagine a world where every complex question has a single, unchangeable answer. No room for doubt, no room for debate and certainly no tolerance for “alternative viewpoints”. This is a world of fundamentalism – a mindset that compresses the richness of life into one-dimensional certainties. The interpretation of the Quran by Islamist scholars is an example of this. But this is true of all other religions that rely on written sacred texts. But what if there is an antidote? Enter literature, always a rebellious, thought-provoking force that thrives on complexity and nuance.
In literature against fundamentalismIn his latest nonfiction work, Tabish Khair boldly claims that literature is the ultimate antidote to radical thinking. Why? Because while fundamentalism discourages dialogue, literature sparks it. Stories have always dared to grapple with the messy, unanswerable questions of the human condition.
Decades ago, the Welsh poet William Henry Davies yearned for leisure, “What kind of life is this if, full of cares, We have no time to stand and stare…”, he wrote. He urged the industrial and corporate nation to stop for a moment and admire the wonders of nature instead of getting trapped in the capitalist rat race. Since then, our lives have become even more industrialized. Additionally, our societies are now more polarized than ever and we have created our own little echo chambers. We live in a time when fundamentalists appear to have a strong hold on our narratives. This is where our Gaya guy enters. Tabish dares to urge us to forget political differences and ideological conflicts and take time out to read literature.
Tabish further argues that literature forces us to slow down and think. Really think. It moves us away from the quick-fix culture of memes and soundbites and demands that we engage with complexity. And in an age where our attention spans are measured in reels and shots, this deep, focused contemplation is becoming a rare and even a radical act.
Casualties of the digital age
This book does not shy away from warning about the digital age. I wonder whether the TikTok and Instagram generation will listen to them, but a call to action in favor of reading contemplative literature is the need of the hour. Fundamentalism thrives in this shallow soil, relying on the same short attention span and binary thinking that the Internet often fosters. But the author forcefully puts forward the idea that literature is the counter-programming we all desperately need.
Tabish is inspiring. He seems to be suggesting that reading novels or poetry is not just an escape from noise; This is a rebellion against it. Literature challenges us to see the world from someone else’s perspective and to hold contradictory ideas in our own minds. It broadens our perspective and sharpens our critical thinking. It builds intellectual muscle that can withstand the oversimplification of radical ideas.
we are all storytellers
The initial premise – that storytelling is an intrinsic part of human consciousness – is based on widely accepted ideas, particularly popularized by Israeli historian and thinker Yuval Noah Harari. However, the book moves away from Harari’s generalizations to emphasize the unique ways in which literature presents stories.
The author’s message is clear: in a time when quick answers and rigid ideologies dominate, literature is more important than ever. It is not just a cultural artifact or leisure activity; It is a lifeline to our collective imagination. If fundamentalism turns life into black and white, literature is the glorious spectrum in between. And it’s a revolution worth reading. According to Well, literature is a way of thinking, stories are one of the oldest tools used by humans to understand the world. What makes literature unique and essential is how it connects language (its content) to reality (its subject matter).
In literature against fundamentalismKhair argues that literature helps us explore reality through language and reality through language. The two are deeply interconnected, always evolving and never fully understood. Tabish describes this approach as fundamentally questioning and open-minded, pushing against rigid, simplistic assumptions.
This is why literature, read not just for its aesthetic, sociological or political value but for its own sake, can counter radical thinking. Tabish Khair redefines the meaning of literature, re-examines its relationship with religion and fundamentalism, reconsiders the relationship between science and the humanities, and ultimately calls for literature to play an active, transformative role in human life. Let’s call for. By advocating agnostic reading, he challenges redundant interpretations and highlights the capacity of literature to deal with complexity and ambiguity.
a scandinavian bihari
By the standards of the corporate world, Tabish has one weakness – he never attracts attention or craves fame. He was already a published author during his stint as a Times of India reporter in Delhi in the 1990s, but he remained humble. Tabish quietly left India in the mid-1990s and took the hustle and bustle of his hometown Gaya to the streets of Aarhus, Denmark. You would think that such a transition – from a Hindi heartland to a Scandinavian city – would leave one grappling with culture shock. Thankfully, not Tabish – I call him my Scandinavian Bihari friend. He took both worlds, squeezed their essence and infused them into his novels, poetry and academic works.
Tabish, who teaches English literature at Aarhus University in Denmark, is a cosmopolitan – not the kind of cosmopolitan who shows a London or New York address on his Instagram bio. His definition of cosmopolitanism is refreshingly simple. It’s not about where you live, but how you live – how you live in different worlds with grace and dignity. A man was equally at home drinking tea in a tea shop or visiting the Danish Academy.
So, next time someone tries to cheat Biharis, feel free to remove Khair’s name. Tell them that a small town boy from Gaya not only broke this stereotype but also ended it.
(Syed Zubair Ahmed is a London-based senior Indian journalist with three decades of experience with western media)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
