A LOVE for reading and seeing books as a dream-like escape inspired Nazneen Ahmed Pathak to write, but that stopped in her twenties because there wasn’t a story she wanted to tell.
Things changed after her son Roshan was born in 2013. She was reading a children’s book to him and realised there weren’t any stories about his heritage as a British-Indian-Bangladeshi child. Her young son reconnected Pathak to that writing passion and inspired her dynamic debut novel City of Stolen Magic.
The beautifully written book mixing up magic with history, and a 19th century multicultural Victorian London, revolves around a young Indian girl with mystical powers on a rescue mission in new surroundings. One of the most unique books of the year introduces a new type of literary hero and great British writing talent, who has offered up something unique.
Eastern Eye caught up with the writer to discuss her book, which beautifully blends history, magic, and culture.
Tell us about City of Stolen Magic?
The story follows Chompa, the fierce, impulsive, ever-curious heroine, and her mother, Ammi, who are both witches. Chompa’s not allowed to do her magic because Ammi says she’s not old enough to control it. Instead, Ammi’s tries teaching her writing magic, which is intricate, precise and takes time. Chompa finds it boring and decides to take matters into her own hands, which ends in disaster when Ammi’s abducted by a sinister group called the Company, who Chompa later finds out are selling magical people for profit. To get Ammi back, Chompa travels to London on a ship, powered by a djinn, making friends and enemies along the way.
What made you want to combine history and magic in the story?
I see my writing as the ‘embroidering of untold stories’, so wanted to bring to life untold histories and lesser-known forms of magic in this story. Until I worked on a research project on the history of East London, I didn’t know that the reason Brick Lane is now ‘Banglatown’ stems from the lodging houses run in the area by South Asian sailors, known then as ‘lascars,’ in the Victorian period. So, until I was well into my thirties, I had no idea how colonialism had been responsible for establishing the migrant community I am part of. When I learnt that, it made something in me click.
Tell us more about that?
It made my identity and sense of belonging as a British Bangladeshi person make sense. I wished I had known it when I had been a child, whenever anyone used to ask me where I was ‘really’ from. So, I really wanted to weave a story around it, and make it come to life for children like Roshan and Khushi, my daughter.
What about the fantasy element of your book?
I’ve always loved fantasy stories about magic, witches, and wizards, but grew up with a very different idea of magic than the pointy-hat and magic-wand variety we see in most children’s books. I wanted to weave in the stories I grew up with when I visited Bangladesh as a child - stories of bhoot, djinn and amulets. At the same time, I have always been fascinated by the taviz, Islamic amulets members of my family used to wear; capsules containing slivers of paper featuring Quranic verses, because they really show the protective power of the written word.
Did it help or make it more challenging that you are venturing into new territory with this book?
I think the fact that the story is new and different is definitely a strength, but it’s also a risk, and that’s a little daunting, I suppose. But no one wants to read the same story over and over again, and it’s a great time right now for readers of children’s books – there’s something out there for everyone.
Who are you hoping connects with City of Stolen Magic?
Everyone, really. The history and legacy of colonialism is important for us all to know and understand. But I really hope it connects with children who have South Asian heritage, because I wove so much of my love of India and Bangladesh into this story, from languages to food to dress, that I hope it really finds a home with them.
Do you have a favourite part or chapter in the book?
I love the scene where Chompa and Leeza take a cycle rickshaw to explore the chowk market in Dacca and discover the printing press. My grandfather had a printing press and bookshop and the whole scene really comes from my own love of Old Dhaka, which is a unique and historic place. I feel really homesick whenever I read it.
Did you learn anything new while writing this book?
I had no idea how to write a book when I began, so, absolutely I did. I learned so much about how to tell a story that’s exciting and will connect with young readers from my Puffin editors Natalie Doherty and India Chambers, and my agent, Louise Lamont, but I also learned from reading amazing authors such as Catherine Johnson, Philip Pullman, Nizrana Farook, Jonathan Stroud and Patrice Lawrence.
How do you feel ahead of the book’s publication?
I feel very excited – it’s been a 10-year journey to this point. It feels like I am in one of my vivid daydreams. I am so thrilled that Puffin have taken me and the story under their wing, and done us such justice. I just can’t wait for the book to get into the hands of young readers and their parents and teachers. I just hope they like it.
How much has all the praise meant to you for this book?
It’s been extraordinary – the praise from authors I love has been so humbling. And those children, who have read it so far, loving it has meant the absolute world to me. I am quite the crier and have cried every time someone has written to me and told me they liked the story. It never gets old.
What kind of books do you enjoy reading the most?
I love reading children’s stories – I think they’re the best writing, full stop. You can’t have a character staring out of a window for two pages in a children’s story. There’s no indulgence – just story, character and setting in their leanest and best form. I love mysteries such as Sharna Jackson’s Hi-Rise Mystery, historical adventures such as JT Williams’ Lizzie and Belle series, and I recently adored The Swifts by Beth Lincoln.
What can we expect next from you?
Chompa, Tipu, Leeza and Laurie are going to have further adventures so I am currently working on the second book, which will feature rebel queens, bandits and an important quest to find a mysterious magical object.
Why do you love writing?
I love being immersed in imaginary worlds where anything and everything can happen and all the characters you end up meeting along the way. To me, it’s like being on a rollercoaster, only fun (I am a scaredy-cat).
Why should we pick up the book?
Because Chompa is the most dynamic and loveable heroine you could meet, because the adventure is thrilling and spans continents. Because the magic is unique and empowering, and it tells stories of a history we all need to know and talk more about.
City Of Stolen Magic will be published byPuffin next Thursday (29)
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
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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