In Nadia Akbar’s novel, Goodbye Freddie Mercury , we meet RJ Bugsy, one of two unreliable narrators taking us through the opulent, extravagant life of Lahore’s 1%. Bugsy’s childhood friend Omer is the son of the infamous Iftikhar Ali, right-hand man to the corrupt prime minister. The family’s palatial home, nicknamed Dodge Mahal by teasing friends, is accented with water fountains and faux baroque furniture “like Louis XIV took a giant gold-plated sh*@ in the middle of Lahore”.
Inside the house, alcohol and drug-fuelled parties rage on even as the rest of the country lives in prohibition. Elsewhere at a mujra hosted by the prime minister, drunken men who preach about piety in their pre-electoral campaign speeches toss banknotes at gyrating, dancing women.
The partying, the drugs, the blurred lines of consensus in sex — all of this could be happening in any elite society in the world, but Akbar’s depictions are firmly grounded in Lahore, with sharp observations about the city’s politics, music, and cultural norms. “It is a critique of a society that I was a part of,” she shares. “It’s a heightened, fictionalised world, and there are people in the city who are similar to characters like Omer and Bugsy.”
- From award-winning novels to debutants breaking into the literary scene, the past year has seen the emergence of bold fiction by Pakistani authors. Depicting a country that goes beyond the stereotypes, these recent releases focus more on themes like drugs, sex, love, religion, refuge and authority, providing a meaningful glimpse into life in the country:
- by Mohsin Hamid: A young, rebellious girl and a young, religious boy struggle to find their way out of civil wars and crisis through fictitious doors.
- by Faiqa Mansab: A story about two Lahori women bonding over their shared desire to understand why their worlds feel empty and alien.
- by Sarvat Hasin: A series of short stories through the eyes of Karachi’s youth facing different dilemmas as one of them goes missing.
- by Osama Siddique: From ancient Mohenjo Daro to year 2084, this book explores themes that question religion and authority.
- by Kamila Shamsie: Winner of the 2018 Women’s Prize for Fiction, the story follows the lives of an immigrant family navigating its way through love and loyalty.
Beyond stereotypes
Incensed by what she calls “Orientalised junk that is written for western audiences where subcontinental characters are just characterisations”, Akbar set out five years ago to write a novel in an authentic, Pakistani voice. A dislocated knee during a dreary Boston winter (where she was doing her Master’s in creative writing) led to a short story that eventually turned into the novel. “I was all by myself, daytime TV was driving me crazy, and I was thinking about Lahore, about my family and friends, and listening to a lot of Queen — because I love Queen,” she shares.
Goodbye Freddie Mercury is told in the voice of two “opinionated and outlandish” (in Akbar’s words) narrators: Nida, a student of economics at Lahore College, and RJ Bugsy. Bugsy’s musical assertions, inspired by the author’s own experience as an RJ, provide a soundtrack of sorts for a summer where Nida gains temporary access to high society, and where politics becomes intertwined with everyday life.
Drawing rooms and farmhouses (“Farmhouse parties in Lahore are great,” Akbar tells me) are the setting for political maneuvers as some of the protagonists are unwittingly drawn into a wider agenda that involves Mian Tariq, the new candidate taking pre-election Pakistan by storm with his anti-corruption rhetoric.
The politics of writing
When I ask her if Tariq’s character is inspired by anyone real, perhaps a popular ex-cricketer, Akbar remains cryptic. “I want people to read it and interpret whatever they want,” she says. Yet, even as the reader is whisked from one opulent party to another, she sees her work as political. “You have these things in the back of your mind that you’re thinking about — things that bug you, that you wish were different — and they just seeped into the novel,” she shares, adding: “Even being a woman and speaking in Pakistan is politics.”
The 37-year old, who lives in Colombia (her husband is an administrator at an international school, and the couple moves frequently) is braced for backlash about her depictions of sex, alcohol and drugs. “You’ve read the book,” she says laughing. “My art was never meant to be comfortable. I want the reader to feel close to my characters. They are rude and kind of obnoxious, but not unrealistic.”
Bringing back Farrokh
Akbar’s desire to take charge of what she calls the “ desi ” narrative is apparent in the title of her novel. Freddie Mercury, born Farrokh Bulsara, was raised in India and Tanzania before he left for England where he became the lead vocalist of the rock band Queen. “I wanted to reclaim him because he’s important and he’s part of our culture,” she asserts. “He’s one of us — he’s desi ”
RJ Bugsy would agree. Speaking wistfully about the singer on his radio show, he says, “They all think he’s white, for Farrokh’s sake!” going on to add: “Brown and buck-toothed and beautiful. And he’s ours, yaar , he’s ours.”
For Akbar, the music of Freddie Mercury continues for a little longer as she puts the finishing touches to the screenplay based on the novel. “I think it would make a really rocking movie,” she shares. “So action-packed, and the characters are unique and so ridiculous.” After seeing Imran Khan in Delhi Belly , she is convinced that he would make for a perfect Bugsy. “What’s up, Aamir Khan, do you want to make a movie?” she asks, laughing.
Goodbye Freddie Mercury, published by Penguin Hamish Hamilton, is available for ₹469 on amazon.in.
