British-American, born in London, raised in Delhi, estranged from his Muslim father, brought up in Hindu faith by his iconic Indian writer/journalist Indian mother Tavleen Singh, queer, married to his lawyer husband Ryan Davis. If key highlights about Aatish don’t in themselves pique your interest enough, then his book A Return To Self, most certainly will.
It isn’t the first account of a mixed-race Indian-origin individual, nor does the book present a new paradigm in form or flavour. Yet, through several fundamental strengths, it draws, captivates, instigates, inquires, sometimes answers, and journeys the reader, as the writer himself traverses both terrain and inner tyranny. The title in fact, more than creative, is a perfect encapsulation of what the book turns out to be. While in his first book, Stranger To History, one got a tangible sense of Aatish’s quest for his father, in many ways, with A Return To Self, as the title plainly states, he is returning, coming a full circle, with a few discoveries, realizations, and perhaps some yet unanswered inquiries.
Does each of us human beings experience an identity crisis? Perhaps not to a cataclysmic degree where it could become existential. However, at some point in all our lives, we do, hopefully, seek to know ourselves better. And what truly constitutes this ‘me’ that we seek deeper understanding of? Is it merely what we are as the individual in what we believe, what our politics is, what we say, what we wear, whom we engage with? Or is the ‘individual’ not profoundly, if silently, made up of several building blocks, those myriad influences, interactions, influences good or bad, stimuli we’ve encountered, most each and every large and micro-meetings with the world, the environment, the people, and numerous other forces, that assert their ethos upon us? It follows then as a natural corollary, that an individual like Aatish, given his apparent transcontinental upbringing, life and times, the deep impact of an un-present and unknown father, of merging outlooks, sentiments, sensibilities and philosophies, would be compelled in divergent, contradictory directions, forced to investigate, and even desperately desire understanding, insight and clarity. It is this insight that he seems to be on a mission for. Who he truly is, motivations, compulsions, conflicts, continents, all-inclusive!
I’m personally a huge film buff, a particular favourite in that art-form being the road-trip movie. From the brilliant Piku to Romi and Mitchell’s High School Reunion, so many facets of the ‘journey’ make the characters and content-consumers too, journey along, have happy and unpleasant accidents, and experience realizations. The book-counterpart of the age-old travel-movie might be one appropriate way also, of describing the format and ‘route’. Aatish takes us along for the ride of his life–capturing with deftness the evolving landscape of the outer, and his inner!
Another definite win for me is that Aatish’s book is deeply satisfying, lyrically. A sumptuously written book that, through its expression and turn of phrase, teleports, travels, traces, tellingly engages. It is wonderful to see absolutely beautiful language being employed especially in service of vivid descriptions of places, breathing a palpable life into the inanimate pages one turns. The diversity of the geographies the book encompasses is accented further due to his writing prowess and makes the book infinitely more immersive than the same story, had it been written in a less-lyrical manner.
Naturally, a central focal point of Aatish’s own story is displacement. An uprootedness. A literal and metaphoric banishment. This forms the core of his investigations–the price he has paid, so dearly, emotionally. The losses, permanent, certain pivotal questions, unshakable. With whom or what to place responsibility? Who carries the burdensome onus of this expulsion? While it is remarkable that someone in his place might well retain their sanity, it is also amply evident that in reaching those points of understanding and reconciliation, the path has been challenging, arduous, and often times, unrewarding. This push and pull, this tug and shove, is graphically and evocatively elaborated, and one gets a real intimate sense of the writer’s angst through the writing.
A hallmark of the book most definitely is also historic referencing. The moment singular lived experience is represented and framed with a backdrop of a larger context, a context that we may be familiar with, or made familiar through the book; it will always bring an added layer of richness and take-away for the reader. To put it crudely, if I were to say, ‘I felt an intense degree of anxiety,’ and then said, ‘I felt an intense degree of anxiety during the COVID lockdown, or during demonitization’–the context provided and shared brings a completely different perspective and perception of my anxiety to the reader. It is in this facet of the book also that Aatish is especially triumphant. His knowledge and historical astuteness have to be admired and make the book thoroughly enjoyable, relatable, and altogether more arresting.
The concept of the evolving incomplete is one that has more recently found greater and greater personal resonance with me. That we must, in exacting terms, define a human being, and commit that identified person to a legal document, akin to a rent-agreement with no exit clause or flexibility, seems increasingly myopic and foolish. How can a living breathing consciousness, which is what most of us hopefully are, be fully distilled into a specific bottle and forever labelled as such? The answer Aatish seems to arrive upon is this very idea of the incomplete. However, incomplete here, far from being a negative, is an overwhelming plus that allows for freedom, liberty, exploration, evolution. And that is a fundamental truth about us faceted human beings, one that society sometimes doesn’t make room for. It is wonderfully reassuring therefore, to see someone of Aatish’s intelligence and repute, echo similar sentiments.
Which really brings us to the soul of A Return To Self. Spiritually, this book reminds me of that most gratifying rock song in which the protagonist first yearns to leave the nest and explore the world, only to ultimately return home with the wisdom that human beings are literally infinite–limitless, boundless entities who are always in motion (and by motion I mean changing, developing, morphing from one to another, cerebrally, spiritually, purposefully). The acceptance of this truth in itself can be most empowering, because it rids us of the sometimes banal birdcaging that takes place. I call on yet another simple yet effective parallel. In the film Wake Up Sid!, it is effectively communicated that each human being is a product of their circumstances and conditioning, the moment Ranbir Kapoor’s ‘drifting’ self receives a cosmic jolt, it forces him into action. Evolution then, is subjective, and timeless. The authenticity, courage and vulnerability with which Aatish paints his own feelings, sentiments, emotions, is a joy to read.
While A Return To Self may go through moments of clarity, it is the pain, the suffering, the burning, the jostling, and the churn, that makes this poignant book, so endearing; with it, taking us on a long winding road home.
Kartik Bajoria is a Jaipur-based writer, educator and mental health advocate.