The reluctant graphic novelist is back with All Quiet in Vikaspuri — a fearful look at an imaginary war that brings Delhi to its knees.
Sarnath Banerjee admits that All Quiet in Vikaspuri, his fourth graphic novel, is somewhat like a Salim-Javed film from the 1970s. The setting is Delhi, a parched city gasping for water, its rich moving to Gurgaon where self-contained housing societies provide every amenity, while the middle class and the poor witness the outbreak of the water wars. Ilaka goes up against ilaka, bhai against bhai. In the midst of bloodshed, Girish, the Psychic Plumber from Banerjee’s last book, The Harappa Files (2011), is steadily drilling his way into the depths of Delhi, searching for the Saraswati river to rescue them from ruin.
It’s been a while since you’ve been living in Berlin. How’s that been so far?
Berlin, for me, is an interesting playground. But the Eurocentric prism through which the Third World is viewed makes me want to hold on to my identity, my Third World instinct, more strongly than ever. Our modernities, what we find interesting and want to explore, will not find favour there. At a party, somebody asked if I was a post-colonialist. I replied I’ve become one after I moved to Berlin.
Every time you finish a graphic novel you say it will be your last. Yet, here we are.
I know, there is so much more to do in life but I still keep writing graphic novels. This book was commissioned by an organisation I won’t name and everything went well till I showed them the ink drawings. At that point they baulked and called me a communist. Can you believe it? Me, a communist! They scrapped the project. But I already had an entire book and, later, HarperCollins entered the picture. The book is rather factual, I haven’t embellished anything, and I’ve kept my distance from the subject.
Writing a book now is entirely a personal pursuit. It’s not financially viable, it takes a lot of time — the book has become a vanity project. There is little or no room for the graphic novel in India today. I’m not out to subvert the mainstream narrative of India; I obey, I listen, I don’t over-sensationalise things, but this new crop of go-getters who talk about India’s eight per cent GDP growth makes me want to question their point of view.
You’ve also reintroduced Girish from your previous book, The Harappa Files. He drills his way through the book to look for Saraswati, the mythical river that could wash away all of Delhi’s problems. Why did you bring him back?
I have a very limited social circle, I usually meet people like me; there is little interaction with people from other socio-economic groups. But Girish is a plumber, his is a very philosophical profession.
A plumber knows the soul of a building. Looking for water is akin to looking for gold. Girish, the water archeaologist, the water shaman, is my spiritual sherpa. Through him, I’m plumbing my spiritual depths. He just appears when you’re least expecting him. Girish is highly empathetic; he’s critical but not judgmental. And I want to be like that, I want to be aware of the several factors that compel people to act the way they do. The older I get I find myself moving away from real life, from non-fiction or long-form writing in magazines.
But you’re still interested in real issues, the politics of living in a particular place at a particular time. How does moving away from non-fiction work for you?
There has been a rise in non-fiction writing and somehow those writers are being considered the arbitrators of reason. But can they truly make society understand what is happening?