Voyages Of Self Discovery

A journey through the Islamic world — especially in the post-9/11 era — is never easy. And what makes this journey tougher is its purpose: understanding Islam. Yet, Aatish Taseer succesfully travels through Syria, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Iran and Pakistan and pens a poignant travelogue-cum-autobiography which showcases the various facets of a religion which constantly clashes and fights to co-exist with other cultures.

Stranger To History: A Son’s Journey Through  Islamic Lands (Picador India), Aatish's debut book, was the result of an angry letter Aatish received from his father Salman Taseer accusing him of spreading anti-Muslim propoganda and failing to embrace the "Pakistani ethos". In a conversation with Aayush Soni, Aatish explains why this book is so difficult to describe, how secularism became a form of religion in Turkey and what it means to be half-Indian in Pakistan

It is tough categorising your book as an autobiography or a travelogue since it’s a mix of travel, religion and your own personal journey. How would you describe Stranger To History?
Well, it is part autobiography and there’s an element of travel in it. Also, things that seem religious, cultural or historical in the region I was traveling in, became part of the compass of the religion (Islam). So yes, there were these many strands. Obviously, I shy away from describing this book as one thing or the other and that’s because most of my writing — fiction or non-fiction — begins in a personal way. So it’s not a book which can be described easily.

When you were at Fatih Carasamba in Turkey, you mention coming across "sub-culture". Did it remind you of any other ‘sub-culture’ which existed in any other city?
Funnily enough, I thought a little bit of punk cultures in Western cities. It had something of that quality because it was so enclosed and because there was an element of ‘fancy dress’. It may also be because of black cultures in American cities; because of the way they dress.

Even in terms of attitude? Because with aggression comes a certain amount of defensiveness. 
Yes, there was something. I think when people have taken on a new kind of dress or a new kind of identification there can often be some kind of aggression about that.

The book starts off in Mecca which is the mid-point of your journey. Why did you choose the middle of your journey as the start to your book?
Mecca was more than a mid-point — it was a turning point. And that’s because it was the point in the journey when I could separate what part of the traveling had to do with faith, in the sense of what was articles of faith — the kind that I had known to make that journey. But it was also a moment when I understood that, for me to understand my father better or to understand what had happened between us better and to understand the division of India-Pakistan better, I wouldn’t need faith in the book sense of the word. I would need it in what was part of the larger compass of the faith.

Therefore, I wanted to drop the reader in Mecca because he would need to remember it later; to know what had come before and to see what was the change in the direction

In your quest to understand your father’s religion better, did you ever feel that your identity as a Sikh was being lost or overshadowed?
No I didn’t and that’s because the Sikh identity — as a religious identity — has never been an active part. What I did find in Pakistan was that the larger Indian identity, cultural and civilisational, which was very close to me, was a pressure to step away from. It wasn’t something that Pakistanis could deal with easily. So it wasn’t a very religious thing. It was more to do with Pakistan’s troubles with India and with the fact that, in India, to include a kind of Pakistani identity is no problem. India has always had these kinds of hybrid identities. It was more of a problem in Pakistan where India was a country to be feared.  

Did you try to dispel these notions from the minds of the Pakistanis?
Well it was never done in a conscious manner. It was done in subtler ways. For instance, when my brother is making fun of how ugly people in India are, or, there might be a joke in the family about how Hindus are cowardly or small. Or they might make fun of the Sanskritic influence on the language. So often, it was in the context of a joke.

There’s a point in your book where you write about your name being neither Hindu nor Muslim. Did you ever try to find out what your name meant?
I did. I knew what Aatish meant from a very early age. And Taseer was my grandfather’s takhkalus — his pen name which I discovered as I grew older. So yes I always knew what it was.