Nikhil J Alva interview: ‘Lack of dialogue root cause of insurgencies’

This is the backdrop of Nikhil J. Alva’s debut novel If I Have to Be a Soldier (HarperCollins), a clear-sighted, propulsive narrative enriched with Mizo culture, its turbulent political history, and above all how people nurture relationships despite the alienation they experience on multiple fronts. In an email interview to The Federal, the author talks about the principal factor that alienated the people of the Northeast and how sensitivity readers helped shape this novel. Edited excerpts:

Writing a book is markedly different from the roles you’ve championed in the past as an entrepreneur, producer, and director. Tell us a bit about your writing journey, with a special emphasis on what compelled you to write this book.

I’ve been writing scripts for documentaries, non-fiction series and even some prime-time, TV fiction, for over two decades, so writing a novel didn’t feel completely alien to me. In fact, it seemed like the natural next step in my writing journey. The Northeast has always been an area of interest for me, fuelled perhaps by travelling extensively in the region from childhood. When I first stumbled upon the causality of the flowering of the bamboo in 1959, the plague of rats it triggered, the devastating famine that followed and the road from there to the brutal 20-year-long Mizo insurgency in which thousands lost their lives, I was hooked. The more I read about and researched the subject, it became clearer to me that the story I wanted to tell could best be told in the form of [a] novel set against historical events that shaped the Mizo insurgency. It took three years to write and another year before the first draft of my manuscript evolved into the final novel that has now been published. It’s been an incredibly satisfying and fulfilling journey and I’ve enjoyed the process immensely.

Could you please share with us what sort of research went into this project? What were your go-to resources, and if you tried to gather multiple perspectives to enhance the polyphonic nature of your novel?

My research included material available on the internet, [white] papers by research scholars and military history scholars on the Mizo insurgency, on how the Indian army dealt with the insurgency, and on the long-term effects of the forced re-organisation of villages and populations in the Mizo Hills. YouTube videos shot by local Mizos on their culture, conversations with those living in the area, and numerous books of which The Camera as a Witness, a serial history of Mizoram by [historian and anthropologist] Joy L. K. Pachuau and [Professor] Willem Van Schendel was very useful. Then, there was Zorami — a redemption song, by Malsawmi Jacob. I also read a lot of Mizo folklore, and the accounts of early evangelists in the region.

Though the book is advertised as — and certainly is — a love story, given the story is set in a conflict zone, it actually is a meditation on what helps shape one’s identity. Given that othering can really alter one’s belonging with a group of people or one’s own country for that matter in the case of the entire Northeast region. Could you share your views on the kind of alienation that the Mizo people felt during the time — or perhaps continue to feel — that you gathered from your research?

I don’t think the book has been advertised as a ‘love story’— though it certainly is one. On the subject of alienation of the people of the Northeast: I think after independence, India was dealing with a host of issues — Partition, famine, our inability to feed our people, wars with Pakistan and China, the race to build critical infrastructure, preventing the country from disintegrating, building institutions that would last, etc. It was a very difficult time. The Northeast and its problems unfortunately didn’t receive the attention they deserved at the time, leading to growing disillusionment amongst local communities in the region. It didn’t help that all of the Northeast was clubbed under a giant Assam State, with little regard for local sentiment, culture, language, and religious beliefs.

At the root of the insurgencies in the Northeast has been a lack of dialogue between New Delhi and communities that felt increasingly exploited and marginalised. And a fundamental disrespect for points of view at odds with the larger Indian nationalistic sentiment. Coming on the heels of India’s disastrous war with China in 1962 and the stalemate with Pakistan in 1965, the Government of India chose to deal with the Mizo insurgents in 1966 with an iron hand instead of trying to resolve differences through dialogue and negotiation. I believe that was a mistake. The state of Mizoram, which was created in 1986, through the Mizo Accord, could possibly have been conceded much earlier, bringing the insurgency to an end and saving thousands of lives.

I believe over time the alienation felt by the people of Mizoram has reduced. Today, Mizoram is one of India’s most progressive and developed states. It is politically stable. It is one of the most peaceful states in the entire Northeast. Mizo youth attend educational institutions all over India and Mizo men and women are employed in businesses all across the country — this has helped increase understanding and reduce alienation.

I have two observations regarding the way the book begins. First is the Witch, and the second is the conversation between Sena and Captain Samuel. While the first, in my view, highlights the cultural myth-history of the region, the second powerfully and cinematically captures the natural conflict between an insider (Sena) and an outsider (Samuel). I was wondering if you could share why you chose to begin the way you did. Also, if you were suspicious of the confrontation between Sena and Samuel coming across as a stereotypical representation of the conflict.

I used the ‘Wailing of the Witch’ as a metaphor for the pain and suffering that came to the land after the bamboo flowered. (In fact, the original title of the book was ‘The Wailing of the Bamboo’.) By bringing her up front, right at the start of the novel, my objective was to create a hook-point for readers, to build suspense about what was to come. The wailing Witch returns at other critical points in the plot, and she’s woven into the story. I didn’t want my novel to be weighed down with the ‘political’ and ‘ideological’ aspects of the Mizo insurgency — after all, I wasn’t writing a work of nonfiction or a thesis on the insurgency. So, I chose to lay down the arguments — the MNF perspective and the Indian nationalistic perspective, early in the novel, using Sammy’s interrogation of Sena as the means to achieve that objective.

My objective was also to give readers who have no idea what the Mizo insurgency was about, an overview of the issues. The idea was not to judge — to let my characters explain their perspectives and motivations, and give the readers the freedom to form their opinions. In my novel, there are no black and white characters; and no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. Each person is driven by their own self-interest and beliefs. Some of my characters are willing to sacrifice everything for the cause they believe in — even their lives. It’s what makes them endearing and human.

The #OwnVoices concept has been gaining currency in the publishing industry and there are people whose lived experiences can help inform a work like this better. I was wondering if you had your manuscript run by a sensitivity reader or editor?

Yes, I’ve had friends from Mizoram review my manuscript, especially in the context of local terms, culture, food, and society. Their inputs were extremely valuable in shaping the novel.