by AMIT ROY
LORD Jeffrey Archer’s 25 published titles have sold 250 million copies in nearly 100 countries and been translated into 37 languages.
In India, which Archer estimates he has visited “20 to 25 times over the years”, he has an especially devoted following.
The author was taken aback to discover one young woman journalist in Kolkata knew his tales almost better than he did.
Put simply, Indians appear to adore Archer and he adores India. “They are very kind to me,” he says.
On his phone is a picture of the 7,500-strong crowd he attracted at the Jaipur Literary Festival earlier this year.
We are chatting high up in his London penthouse apartment with its panoramic view of the Thames and in the distance, the Palace of Westminster, where he is a Tory peer. His wife, Dame Mary Archer, a distinguished scientist in her own right and to whom he has been married for 53 years, is moving around quietly in the background.
A couple of months ago a group of senior Indian businessmen hosted a lavish dinner for the Archers in London.
“Mary was shocked,” recounts Archer. “It was truly remarkable – every course was named after one of my books.”
On the menu, headed A Tribute to Jeffrey Archer, were such items as Mightier than the Sword (lavash bread and hummus), First Among Equals (dragon fruit Waldorf salad), Nothing Ventured (podi hoppers, corn and kuttu roti), Only Time Will Tell (slow-cooked kali dal) and Kane and Abel (celebration cake).
Since most Indian businessmen probably don’t read anything other than their bank statements, clearly a researcher had been hard at work to make the menu a collectors’ item (Archer generously donated one of his three copies to Eastern Eye).
He adds: “I am always teased that the other author Indians love is PG Wodehouse. And you would think that we couldn’t be more different.”
Archer’s debut novel, Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less, was published in 1975 when he was 35. He learned that several schools in India look at it to study “the immaturity of the author” at the start of their career.
“A headmistress told me recently that her school is studying the art of short storytelling because you have RK Narayan, one of the greatest story writers who has ever lived. I am a huge admirer and fan – I wish I had met him before he died.”
In fact, if Archer were to be cast on a desert island and allowed to take a handful of books, Narayan’s short story collection, Malgudi Days, would be in the mix, along with Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
He accepts that since his first novel came out over four decades ago, British society has changed beyond recognition and, with it, the standing of Indians.
“One has to be very careful what one says in this situation because we live in an age where prejudice is misunderstood, but all I will say is the Indians work very hard, number one. And they are very bright, number two. And that is a good start.
“So I am not surprised that Indians are doing well in this country. Everywhere I go – I was in Qatar recently – they seem to be running the place. I was in Dubai – they seem to be running the place.
“I think you [Indians] are the most aspirational race on earth, possibly other than the Chinese who are also very aspirational. And I write aspirational books”.
He would like to take his new protagonist, Detective Constable William Warwick, a bright, young recruit to Scotland Yard’s art and antiquities squad in his latest novel, Nothing Ventured (Macmillan; £20), through to Metropolitan police commissioner over the course of seven novels. Whether Warwick gets to the top will depend on whether he, as an author, is around to complete the task, says Archer, who will turn 80 next year.
As for Archer’s fan base in India and the enthusiastic welcome he receives whenever he is there, he says: “It’s a mystery.”
Perhaps “my love of India, (and) my love of cricket come through to the people both in the books and whenever I am on radio and TV in India”.
He reckons India should have won the ICC Cricket World Cup earlier this year – “you were the best team”.
His eyes light up at the mention of batting great Rahul Dravid. “Oh, yes. Beautiful stroke player.”
He goes on: “I always say that VVS Laxman and Rahul Dravid staying in all day against the Australians (at Eden Gardens in Kolkata in 2001 when India won after following on) was one of the great Test matches in history.”
Archer has met the current Indian skipper Virat Kohli three times.
“I heard him make a speech recently at the Indian High Commission. He is a very measured, sensible, intelligent man,” is Archer’s assessment. “I am a great admirer, not just of his batting, but of his competitive attitude and, indeed, the way he conducts himself. But this has been true of the Indians for many years.”
Into this group, Archer puts Anil Kumble, Kapil Dev and Ravi Shashtri.
He retains warm memories of “the Nawab”, a reference to Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi. “I was at Oxford with the Nawab, who remained a dear friend through to his death. He was a great man – and a great captain of India.”
He saw Pataudi in action before his friend lost much of the vision in his right eye in a car accident. “That was very, very sad. I am amazed that he went on to captain his country and remained a world-class cricketer.”
Always in demand as an auctioneer at Indian charity events, Archer officiated at a dinner at the May Fair Hotel in London in 2013 to raise funds for the Pataudi 2020 organisation which helps people with sight problems. The event was attended by Pataudi’s wife Sharmila Tagore, daughter Soha, son Saif, and daughter-in-law Kareena Kapoor Khan.
“The auctions I love – they are fun. And that was a particularly fun one because I was doing it in memory of someone I cared about,” Archer says.
After many ups and downs in his life, Archer is glad he did not stay in politics, but has made his mark as a “storyteller”.
As with Nothing Ventured, his style is deceptively simple. But he has the gift of being able to make readers turn the page to find out what happens next.
The actor’s evolving style from youth to maturity getty images
Aamir Khan embracing vintage looks with classic charmgetty images
Bold and dramatic changes defining Aamir Khan’s careergetty images
From rugged to refined Aamir Khan’s versatile appearancesgetty images
Memorable film moments showcasing Aamir Khan’s unique stylegetty images
Aamir Khan’s blend of classic and contemporary fashiongetty images
Aamir Khan’s dedication to authentic character portrayals getty images
Cinematic milestones reflected in Aamir Khan’s on-screen imagegetty images
A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5