After she won the Booker Prize, a man from the audience mansplained creative writing to Kannada writer Banu Mushtaq and accused her of being ‘biased’. He claimed that all the other writers who had been shortlisted had creative writing degrees, but Banu didn’t. “What you’ve written is biased,’ he told me.”
Banu then replied, “Yes. Bias is necessary. Taking a stand is necessary. What they couldn’t learn in their fancy writing schools, I taught them with my stories that taking a stand matters.”
Banu Mushtaq, writer, journalist and lawyer, narrated this anecdote to a packed audience of former colleagues, fellow activists, and admirers who had gathered to celebrate her at an event held just hours after she landed in the city from London on Wednesday, May 28.
Hosted by the Karnataka Working Journalists Association in collaboration with the Karnataka Gandhi Memorial Fund and the Karnataka Women Journalists Association, the event was attended by several state dignitaries. Among them were KV Prabhakar, Media Adviser to the Chief Minister, KN Channegowda, Editor of Vijayavani, Wooday P Krishna, President of the Karnataka Gandhi Memorial Fund, Ayesha Khanum, President of the Karnataka Media Academy and Padma Shivamogga, President of the Karnataka Women Journalists Association.
Shivanand Tagadoor, President of the Karnataka Working Journalists Association and long-time friend of Banu, welcomed the crowd and offered a moving recollection of Banu’s early days.
“She was in Class 4 when her family moved to Hassan, and the local school refused to admit her. They said, ‘How can we teach Kannada to a Muslim girl?’ So they admitted her only into 1st grade, on one condition: that she learn to read and write Kannada within six months,” he recalled. “Not only did she do it—she returned to 4th grade in half a year. That fire in her? It’s still there.”
After Banu had heard her friends, colleagues, and supporters speak about her, the room erupted in applause as she took the stage. “I am still the same Banu, the one you’ve known all these years. Just glowing a little more now because of all your love. I never imagined something like this. All I wanted was for my stories to be read in English. That was the only dream. I didn’t even know what the Booker Prize was.”
What began as a simple wish to have her work translated quickly took on a life of its own. Translator and writer Deepa Bhasthi entered one of the 12 stories meant for a translated anthology for a competition. The story won. A publisher followed, and the collection was brought into the world as Heart Lamp: Selected Stories. Without Banu’s knowledge, the book was submitted for the Booker Prize.
“When my publisher called to say I’d been longlisted, I said thank you and hung up. I had no idea what that meant. My children had to explain it to me!” she said, grinning. “The next morning, I was getting ready for court at 9 am, and suddenly the press were outside my door. I didn’t understand why everyone was acting like this.”
From being bombarded by journalists to back-to-back interviews with the BBC and other global outlets, Banu's life changed overnight. “The day after the Booker announcement, I had 10 interviews. I was exhausted. I hadn’t even eaten. My daughters acted like my mother. Sabina fed me, Aisha took care of my PR, and Lupna came with me everywhere. They looked after everything.”
She recounted the chaos of preparing for London, from losing her luggage, which misplaced her essential heart medication, and being forced to wear borrowed clothes for every event. “I’ve never worn Western clothes before. But there I was in a t-shirt and pants, giving all my interviews because of my lost suitcase.”
The Booker committee struggled to help arrange for her heart medication. Eventually, someone flying from Bengaluru delivered it to the London airport, and her family rushed to receive it.
On the day of the Booker ceremony, she sent her children sightseeing and sat alone in her room, writing and rehearsing an acceptance speech. “Everyone said a short story collection has never won. A Kannada translation has never won. The chances were slim. But after seeing how much people back home were rooting for me, I told myself—I have to win. I cannot return to Karnataka without it.”
And she did. When her name was announced, her children began dancing around her while she sat in stunned silence. “It took me two minutes to realise what had happened. I had practised my speech a hundred times. I had the full Kannadiga spirit in me.”
In the days that followed the award ceremony, she travelled across literary festivals and signed hundreds of books a day. She talked about the stories she wrote during her 10-year stint at Lankesh Patrike and, through them, introduced international audiences to Karnataka’s history, the farmers' protests, and the Bandaya (rebel) literary tradition.
At one of the international book events she attended after the Booker win, Banu shared a particularly striking moment with the audience in Bengaluru. A reader came up to her and said, “I know there are a lot of communal tensions in India. If you ever want asylum, I’d be happy to help.”
The hall fell silent as she recounted her response. “I told her—no, thank you. We are happy, even if we fight sometimes. I will fight and live in India only,” she said, drawing applause from the audience.
Although translator Deepa Bhasthi wasn’t present at the event, Banu credited her deeply. “She gave my stories a new life. It was an act of care. Of protest. And now look where we are.”
As the hall stood in a standing ovation, Banu said quietly again, “I am still the same Banu. Just glowing a little more because of all the love you’ve given me.”