THERE’S A LOT OF DOUBT INVOLVED IN WRITING, BUT IT CAN ALSO BE MAGICAL - NIGAR ALAM

You! ‘Under the Tamarind Tree’ was rooted in a desire to understand your family’s struggles during and after Partition. When did this personal curiosity first begin to take the shape of a novel?

Nigar Alam: Growing up, I heard very few stories about Partition from my family and the few I heard were easy, relatively comforting. I simply accepted that all the other family stories would be the same and didn’t give it much thought. It wasn’t until 2019 that I started researching Partition and doing more in-depth reading. Perhaps it was because my parents were getting older or perhaps because my own children were growing up, but I wanted to know more about the family’s past. At the same time, I didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, so fiction was the best way for me to address my questions and curiosity. With a novel, I could explore emotional truths by creating fictional characters and plot points born from the historical event itself.

You! In your ‘Author’s Note’, you mention that members of your family were reluctant to revisit the past. How did those silences shape your understanding of Partition and your decision to write about it?

NA: When I decided to write about it, my first instinct was naturally to turn to my family. But I heard nothing beyond the same relatively comforting stories, so I focused on more conventional sources of research, including documentaries, newspaper archives and works by historians. That was when I came across organisations such as The Citizens Archive of Pakistan and its Oral History Project, which collects, records and preserves the oral histories of Partition survivors. After reading some of those interviews, I realised that many survivors had never spoken about their experiences before. My family was not unique in adopting this coping mechanism of looking ahead rather than processing the past. Fiction allowed me to fill these silences. It provides a cushion of sorts, a buffer when tackling difficult questions, allowing us to explore them deeply without having to confront them head-on.

You! Partition has been extensively explored in South Asian literature. However, your novel moves away from familiar images of trains, corpses and communal violence. What did you feel was still left unexplored?

NA: This is such a great question. I actually don’t think there are enough stories about Partition. And I don’t mean recounting the actual historical events - the trains and corpses. I mean humanising this huge event that shaped billions of lives forever. It’s like how the World Wars have affected generations, countries and politics. There are so many stories set during and after the World Wars because people and societies have been changed permanently.

My book begins two decades after Partition, when the children who survived have grown into adults. I wanted to explore how the experience and trauma can ripple through their entire lives, especially when left unaddressed. There isn’t any one story that can sum up Partition. The only way we can humanise the statistics, deaths and migration is through specificity, through individual human stories that readers can relate to, so they can feel the deep pain, fear and hope of the people who lived through it. Only then can readers, especially those who are unfamiliar with this region, truly begin to empathise and understand. Building empathy is a superpower of fiction.

You! How difficult was it to transform family history, memories, and silences into fiction while allowing yourself the freedom to deviate from what actually happened?

NA: I relied heavily on research, which made it easier to protect everyone’s privacy and personal stories. But by the time I had finished drafting the book and was working on revisions, I began hearing new family stories. Maybe because they knew I was working on a novel, it was easier for them to share. Either way, it was a real gift to hear new stories about their past. Of course, I was careful to focus on the emotional truths behind their personal experiences rather than the actual events they had lived through.

You! In ‘Under the Tamarind Tree’, Rozeena’s childhood is shaped by Partition, but decades later, she is still coping with its consequences. What drew you to her as a character and what did you want her transformation to reveal about survival and memory?

NA: I was drawn to Rozeena as a character because of the many strong women in my family, from generations ago to the present day. Women are often left out of recorded history, even though they serve as the backbone of the family, holding everyone together and forging a future. At times, it is quiet, unglamorous courage that shapes choices and struggles and reflects steely conviction. Through Rozeena, I wanted to celebrate women. I also wanted to allow her a degree of selfishness that is often praised in men but frowned upon in women. I wanted Rozeena not just to survive but to live fully, make peace with the memories of her past and allow herself to find happiness in the present.

You! Rozeena assumes responsibilities that would traditionally have belonged to her brother and challenges expectations of respectable womanhood. How consciously were you thinking about gender and social conformity while writing her?

NA: Gender and social conformity were very much on my mind when I was writing Rozeena and I don’t believe these issues are limited to the 1960s. Even today, we constantly face these challenges and the struggles that come with them. Of course, experiences vary from household to household, as do access to education and opportunities. Social media has made the concepts of feminism and patriarchy commonplace for many, both in Pakistan and in the West, but awareness is only the first step. Broader social change is much more complicated.

You! Your characters appear to be conscious of their reputations and community scrutiny. What interested you in exploring the power of social judgment, particularly for women?

NA: The concept of log kya kahenge is common and widely understood in South Asia, and honestly, in the West as well. I’ve spoken to so many readers who have shared how they felt bound by the expectations of their families, churches or the towns where they grew up. The power of social judgment can be a matter of life and death in many societies, and breaking free from it isn’t easy. Yes, education and financial independence go a long way, but unfortunately, they’re not always enough. It requires a delicate balance between collectivist and individualistic values, and I wanted to explore these ideas through Rozeena.

You! The novel moves between 1964 and 2019 rather than following Rozeena’s life chronologically. Why did you choose this structure and how did the two timelines develop in relation to each other?

NA: Chapter 1 is set in 2019, and the reader instantly discovers that Rozeena and Haaris aren’t together. In fact, they’re on opposite sides of the world and have been for decades. Surprisingly, my first chapter remained unchanged through months of revisions, even though most of the manuscript evolved over time. By introducing Rozeena and Haaris in this way, I wanted to make readers curious about why they aren’t together, which naturally called for the story to go back in time.

The 1964 timeline immerses readers in Rozeena and Haaris’s youth, desires and motivations, while the 2019 timeline allows an older Rozeena to confront her fear of the past unravelling, as well as her fears for young Zara’s safety and future. I began weaving the two timelines together with brief notes on plot and character. However, after creating a skeletal outline (with many missing parts!), I decided to focus on each era separately, deepening and layering the 1964 story before switching to 2019.

You! The novel withholds information and gradually reveals a whole spectrum of secrets. How did you balance suspense and mystery with the emotional demands of a story rooted in family history and historical trauma?

NA: That was hard! I planned certain secrets and revelations, but others emerged organically, which was a joy in itself. I try to follow the advice that endings should be surprising but inevitable. In other words, readers are most satisfied when they’re surprised by the ending but can also look back and see, in hindsight, what led to it.

The secrets and revelations therefore required a lot of back-and-forth, plotting, and revising of earlier chapters. Plot points are the engine that drives the story forward and keeps it moving at a good pace, but emotions are where I connect most with readers. Those emotions emerge from my characters and their visceral, physiological and active reactions.

Much of my revision focused on getting those emotional beats right, because that’s what speaks to readers. It’s what they relate to and what allows them to empathise with the characters and, therefore, the story.

You! The tamarind tree becomes a repository of memories and secrets in the novel. When did you realise it would become such an important symbol? What did it come to represent for you?

NA: The tamarind tree is a memory from my own childhood. With its giant trunk and wide canopy, it stood behind my Nani’s house and was like a member of the household. And yes, its imli was turned into tamarind chutney for us all. Native to Karachi, the tamarind tree stood witness to refugees crossing the border in both directions. The house where it stood changed hands, too. For me, the tree came to symbolise history, lives and secrets and humanity.

You! Karachi is central to the novel. What kind of research went into reconstructing that world and did the process change the way you see Karachi today?

NA: I had a lot of fun doing research, even though most of it didn’t make it into the book. In addition to works by historians, newspaper archives, old maps, images and documentaries, I interviewed Karachiites who had been young adults in the 1960s. These primary sources were extremely helpful in creating a vivid picture in my mind, allowing me to transport readers to Karachi as it was at the time. It’s truly eye-opening to see how rapidly and densely the city has expanded in the decades since Partition. Compared to Karachi in the 1960s, the city is now unrecognisable.

You! What did you learn about writing fiction after completing ‘Under the Tamarind Tree’? Was there a point when you doubted whether the novel would work?

NA: There are many so-called rules about writing fiction, such as writing every day, making an outline, compiling a character bible, using a three-act structure and graphing your plot points. I think my biggest takeaway from completing ‘Under the Tamarind Tree; was that there are no rules. Like anything worthwhile and rewarding, writing fiction is hard and takes time and everyone does it in their own way.

Personally, I spend more time thinking than putting words down. I rewrite the first act, the first ten chapters or so, over and over until I get to know my characters thoroughly. I plot using Post-it notes, notecards, scribbles on paper and Excel spreadsheets - anything that helps.

I don’t write every day. There’s a lot of doubt involved in writing, as in any creative work, but it can also be magical. The key is to love the process itself, not just the end product.

You! Now that the novel is out in the world and readers have brought their own interpretations to it, has the experience changed the kinds of stories or questions you want to explore through your fiction?

NA: One of the most unexpected joys of writing ‘Under the Tamarind Tree’ has been meeting and speaking with readers. After publication, the book belongs to them, and their interpretations and reactions have made me want to write more stories set in Karachi. It’s so gratifying to see readers’ perceptions move away from the idea that Karachi is only about sensational news headlines, terrorism, violence and religious oppression. The questions I want to explore are many and varied, and I hope to keep readers immersed in my stories so that they can relate to the characters and recognise that, regardless of culture or country, we are all more alike than we are different.

The interviewer is the critically acclaimed author of ‘No Funeral for Nazia’ and ‘Typically Tanya’. He can be reached at [email protected]