Naipaul c/o Lady Naipaul

Rajnish Wattas

Nearly 30 years ago I had met Sir V S Naipaul in Chandigarh and spent some time with him. He was then accompanied by his beautiful Argentinean companion, Margaret Gooding, while his wife, Patricia Ann Hale, stayed back in England. In town, researching for his book “India: A Million Mutitnies Now” Naipaul was reclusive, refusing to meet anyone, turning down   even an invite from Panjab University. 

However, his  formidable reputation as “the finest living writer of English” of the 20th century and the controversial books on India had generated immense  buzz about his presence in the then sleepy town of Chandigarh. His glamorous travel companion further fuelled the    media curiosity! 

Recently at the Jaipur Litfest, Naipaul, now 82, frail, infirm, appearing  on a wheel chair, was quite a pale shadow of his past.  Labelled as an informal conversation with his long-time journalist friend  Farukh Dhondi ‘imagined over a glass of wine at Naipaul’s Wiltshire cottage looking at the sunset’,  the event generated a huge crowd. 

He was accompanied by his nanny-like fussing wife, Nadira Alvi Babbar,  responsible as the keeper of the literary jewel. As the front seats went to Naipaul  and Dhondy, Nadira took a self-effacing back seat right behind them (somewhat like an invisible Presidential aide during country-heads’ summits). 

As the dialogue with the frail, tremulous  Naipaul speaking in  halting sentences and fading memory lapses began,  the artful Dhondi had to often fill in the gaps. Naipaul at times not sure of the  completion of his answer, would innocently ask Dhondy, “Is that okay Farukh?”

Even if the vintage controversial, irascible Naipaul was missing, the Nobel laureate with his quintessential insights was very much in shine. He brought out the poignancy of his early  hardships  and struggles in the making of a writer  —  without any material, experience or contacts. But a fierce, unflinching determination and an unwavering faith in his talent to sustain him. His advice to the legion of wannabe writers clinging to every word or utterance by the great man was, ‘find your own material’ ... find your own way’. The only glitch was that the  mike kept slipping down from his frail hands time and again.. and finally Nadira emerged from the shadows to put a loving arm, garlanding his neck and  held it up. Gradually the answers picked up in tone, volume and  insights, crafted with perfect articulation — just like his hallmark perfect prose. Naipaul recalled,  how he always had to find his own material and invent a new form for his various genres of writing ranging from short stories to fiction to travel books. “My whole life has been a  process of learning... I have no great message to give”.  

He also clarified that his first book on India An Area of Darkness —received very badly in his native land — was never quite meant to be offensive, and the title merely  reflected his own ignorance about the land. At this point Nadira chipped in to add  that this was the  only time  Naipaul’s mother made a remark on his books, “Beta leave Indians to the Indians”.

As the session closed and Naipul  wheeled off,   Sir Vidia’s shadow ... Nadira lingered on.