

Former Booker Prize nominee, Stephen Kelman, has based his second novel on Bibhuti Bhushan Nayak, a world record holder in physical strength. Kelman tells Ananya Borgohain how this book made him a better person
After Pigeon English, expectations from you in the literary circuit must have been really high. What was it about Bibhuti Nayak’s unconventional talent that pushed you to come to India and make him your subjectIJ
I’m always drawn in the first instance to a character, and I’m less concerned with how the story that will eventually flow from him or her will be perceived by a reader. When I first saw the real Bibhuti — demonstrating one of his records on a British TV show — I had a very strong gut reaction to him which I simply had to explore. He had a unique presence, something I had not seen before. The combination of humility and the utter self-belief with which he pursued his passion — a passion which to many people would appear quite outrageous — was something I found very interesting, and I wanted to know what made a man like this and how he impressed this personality upon the world. A response to a character is often instinctive and as a writer you are duty-bound to follow this instinct to wherever it might lead you; that is also the joy of the job.
Is it a conscious decision to explore other cultures in your worksIJ How do you personally relate to themIJ
I’m of the belief that, rather than ‘writing what you know’, an author should seek to write what he does not know. When I embark on a story, it is with the hope that I will be surprised, and will learn something new about my fellow humans or myself. I think it is our innate curiosity, and our desire to place ourselves in the skins of people who are on the face of it different to ourselves, which allow us to grow and also to produce the most enduring and distinctive work. And I would find writing only about the familiar so boring. When I explore another culture I’m always energised by the differences I uncover and comforted by the similarities I find with my own.
What are your memories of your first visit to IndiaIJ
The noise. Traffic and birdsong and human voices. The smell of fossil fuels burning and so many fruits bursting on the air. The sheer volume of people, in numbers unlike anything I had previously experienced. The shameless and unadorned spirit in which the people lived their daily lives, unafraid of each other and of themselves because proximity would not allow it. The heat of course, something I quickly became accustomed to and which I found to be a quickener to the senses. But mostly the welcomes I received from so many people I met. Everybody was so curious about me and so accepting of my presence. I felt a trust and a kinship. I felt as if I were part of something bigger than myself. And since I have been back, that feeling has only grown stronger and deeper, partly because my best friend Bibhuti resides in India, and partly because India for me holds so many fine examples of how to live a life with dignity and daring.
How did you maintain the line of distinction between reality and fiction in novelIJ
From day one Bibhuti was aware that what would appear in the book would be a fictional version of him, something which was a blend of his history and personality and my imagination. To his great credit, he was on board with this idea, and he understood that to form a compelling story I needed the freedom to stray from the facts in order to find the true essence of his character and the others in the book. As I got to know Bibhuti I formed a picture of who he was to me and what he meant to me, and it was through this personal prism that the character of Bibhuti in Man on Fire emerged. So while I was always seeking to express my idea of who he was, I also placed a certain restriction on myself: I would only have the fictional Bibhuti do or say something that the real Bibhuti might credibly do or say if he found himself in the same situation in life. This way I could be fair to both Bibhutis and also achieve what I set out to do with the story. I was only able to strike this balance because I had such a deep connection with the real Bibhuti. Really, it was his spirit which guided my choices. Fortunately, Bibhuti approves of the end result, otherwise I feel I would have failed in my undertaking.
Although the novel is about two men, their wives are very crucial to the story too. As a writer how important was it for you to have their presence in your plotlineIJ
Both the wives in the book are to an extent victims of their husbands’ obsessions, as are so many women who are neglected or in some way abused by a husband whose driving passion can only be indulged by excluding them. But it was important for me to show how they react to their mistreatment by becoming the voices of reason or dissent. When their patience for their husbands’ excesses reaches breaking point, they fight back. In the end, the men do what they set out to anyway and then it is the women who will put things back together. In the book, as in life!
The humour in this novel is unique, considering that it’s about life, death, and a leap of faith. Could you tell us a little about how you use humour as a literary deviceIJ
I am always able to see the inherent humour in even the darkest situation. It’s just a part of my personality. Perhaps it comes from having experienced darkness in life and come out the other side of it. Humour is a humanising faculty and it allows us a perspective on things. And of course there is an absurdity in the actions of Bibhuti and John in the book which means that, even when they are doing something infuriatingly self-destructive, we sympathise with them. Or at least I do. We are all ridiculous at times, and in our own way, and I like to celebrate that.
What kind of fitness routine do you followIJ
I have always been quite active and sporty but as a writer, because of the sedentary nature of the job, my fitness had gone into something of a decline. That was until Bibhuti devised a personal workout routine for me, which I am doing my best to follow. It’s a mixture of stretching and resistance work, and just 20 minutes a day can produce significant results. I also mix this up with cardio work on an elliptical trainer and in my daily life I make those little decisions such as taking the stairs instead of the escalator and walking as much as I can. Bibhuti said to me that I have given him the only gift he needs by writing Man on Fire for him, and his gift to me in return is to look after me physically. He provides the motivation and the advice, and the rest is up to me. I’m becoming more aware of the need to live the right way as I get older — I will be 40 next year — and luckily I have no bad habits that I need to discard.
How has this book changed you as a personIJ
Writing the book coincided with getting to know Bibhuti, and as my relationship with both the real man and his fictional representative grew, I found myself becoming more sympathetic towards the worldview that they both espouse. The real Bibhuti was with me throughout some major events that occurred during the writing of Man on Fire — meeting my wife, the publication of my first novel, Pigeon English, the death of my brother and my father’s illness. He provided words of support and care, and despite our living so far apart a real closeness has developed between us which has enabled me to take a look at my own life from a different angle. I now feel more at ease with myself, more sure of my place in the world. Bibhuti has a very strong sense of his destiny, and the courage with which he pursues his calling is something I have tried to replicate in my own endeavours.
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