In the West, most acclaimed writers have written for children. However, such instances are far and few between in our immediate literary context. Bolwar Mahamad Kunhi, a short story writer and novelist of repute is among the few exceptions. This writer has edited what is considered the finest work ever produced in Kannada for children – “Tattu Chappale Putta Magu”, a collection of over 100 poems and “Santammanna”, which is an anthology of 40-odd poems with lively-lovely illustrations. He is now the recipient of the Kendra Sahitya Akademi award for telling children the story of an ordinary Mohandas who became Mahatma Gandhi in his “Paapu Gandhi Bapu Gandhi Aada Kathe”. Apart from Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar, it is only Bolwar who has written about Gandhi for children.
“There are many things we do not tell children, but they learn it on their own when they come of age. So why do you tell them Gandhi was a great patriot? How can little ones understand patriotism? It was important for me to tell the story of this common boy who became uncommon – he was timid, he used to stammer, and he was scared of the dark. But what was it that made him so extraordinary – that's what I wanted to tell children,” explains Bolwar, of the thoughts that first came to him when the Kannada Book Authority insisted he take up this project. The primary task before him was to shed his notion of Gandhi, piled up over the years. In the process of de-intellectualising, Bolwar began re-reading Gandhi all over again. “For a year, I read practically everything that was available on Gandhi. Gradually, I started creating my Gandhi taking a few fictional liberties. In the process of unlearning, I learnt I could tell the story of Gandhi only with my soul in it.” Everyone knew three stories from Gandhi's life – the kettle episode, the cigarette episode, and the meat eating episode – and Bolwar went on to shape his philosophy of Gandhi through these.
Gandhi was extremely hardworking, he was rightfully obstinate, and stuck to truth come what may. Bolwar was well on the track, for, when many children read his book, they had exclaimed, “We did not know a person could become famous just by speaking the truth!” “My purpose had been achieved. At 23, within one and a half months of going to South Africa, how could this timid, scrawny boy have a following of 5,000 people?! It was only his sincerity of purpose. I wanted to tell children that,” explains Bolwar, who is very happy that the book has received an award.
“It will hopefully reach rural children at least now.” But how did Monu's (that is how Gandhi is endearingly called in Bolwar's work; it is at once an extension of mone , the way children are called in his own Byari language and also short form of Mohan, Gandhi's real name) inner strength take form, considering that he was a dotard? One day, as Bolwar took a walk around the Syndicate Bank where he worked, he found a pavement bookseller selling a booklet on Hindu-Muslim ties. The book spoke of Mehtab, Gandhi's Muslim friend who was a great source of courage to him.
“That inspired me and gave me ideas. The climax in my book borders on the fantasy, which I did deliberately. Mehtab was Gandhi's strength, if he had not constantly urged Gandhi to go forward, Gandhi may have not done many things. This is true of my life as well. But for people like Shivaram Karanth, G. Rajshekar, D.K. Shamsundar Rao, and S.G. Siddaramaih, my life would have been different.”
This may have well been a work for children, but it enriched Bolwar in many ways. “Truth is such an elusive thing. The more we search for it, the further it moves away from us. Gandhi knew all this. Having lived with him so closely, I cannot speak untruth, I owe it to him and myself,” says Bolwar, speaking of how all this has led him to his next work, “Nanna Desha Nanna Jeevana”.
“I was inspired by Advani's autobiography and have begun to tell the story of the Hindus and Muslims of this country. I want to transcend my Muslim identity and write from both sides.”
But that is hardly easy: Bolwar knows he has a difficult path ahead. He recalls from his recent past: one of his Hindu friends from his hometown called him when his design for “Kumaravyasa Bharatha” won him a prize, ‘people who call you a Muslim must be beaten', he had said. “Tell me, how must I react to this?” he trails off for a while and continues, “It speaks of the state of our minds. These are bad times and it is difficult to be good. As long as we live, we should try to be ‘less evil'. We must talk of harmonious living, and learn to accept that we are different as well.”
What are the anxieties of a Muslim writer living in these times? “If I do not do namaaz five times a day, fellow Muslims say I have no place in the heavens. But if I do not profess my love for my country five times a day, my fellow countrymen will not even give me a place in this mortal world. Caught between the high heavens and the lowly physical, it is a struggle to find oneself.” But Bolwar finds most of his answers as a writer. “When I started writing, I wanted to tell my readers, 95 per cent of whom were Hindus, what happens in a Muslim household, their hardships and sorrows. Islam doesn't just mean marriage and talaq and all Muslims are not evil. I wanted to destroy these illusions that Hindus nurtured about Muslims,” says Bolwar and recalls his shock when he realised that all the five Muslims in Kuvempu's “Malegalalli Madumagalu” were ‘evil'.
“So much so that he didn't even think they deserved to have a name!” Through his novel, Bolwar hopes to correct many of these notions.
“As far as I am concerned there is nothing called inspiration, I plan my writing very carefully. My writing is useless if it does not serve a purpose,” says the writer.
