‘Writ­ing fic­tion is never a purely logical pro­cess’ – Farrukh Dhondy

1 Did Tibetan Gos­pel emerge from a fas­cin­a­tion with belief and scep­ti­cism?

Though I was brought up to be a good Zoroastrian, I determ­ined at an early age to aban­don all belief in reli­gions as wil­ful human delu­sions. I had a lifelong friend called Darius Cama, who did con­vert from Zoroastri­an­ism to Cath­oli­cism and did indeed become a priest and go to Bolivia as a mis­sion­ary. The idea of the novel came to me when I read that the “god­man” Osho had claimed in writ­ing that Jesus was bur­ied in Kash­mir. The plot then sug­ges­ted itself. My late friend his­tor­ian Charles Allen’s research into the ori­gins of the Hindu and Zoroastrian idea that the plant they called Soma or Homa led to mys­tical exper­i­ences con­trib­uted to this plot.

2 One of the things I enjoyed about the book was the part about the mon­as­tery. Did you begin with a com­munity and dis­cover the char­ac­ters inside it, or did the char­ac­ters come first?

All of us inter­act with and are or have been part of insti­tu­tions: fam­il­ies, schools, col­leges, work­places, etc. Yes, I ima­gined a mon­as­tery and its hier­arch­ies of age, rank, func­tion. Writ­ing fic­tion is never a purely logical pro­cess. Action, motive, char­ac­ters all emerge from the sub­con­scious, which is, I sup­pose, a vast store of obser­va­tions. These emerge into the con­scious as one writes, resolv­ing them­selves in words and sen­tences, and then impels the fin­gers on the com­puter key­board. OK, enough pre­ten­tious­ness!

3 How much of the Pune that appears in the novel is the Poona you remem­ber, and how much is the Poona you still carry in you?

All the descrip­tions of Poona are from my memor­ies of grow­ing up there, from my early years, through my teens. It was a quiet town till the mid or late 1950s, when the first large factor­ies were built. I go to Pune now and it’s unre­cog­nis­able, except for the streets of the neigh­bour­hood where I grew up.

Some of the build­ings of our road, Sacha­pir Street, are still as they were then, though most have been replaced by taller apart­ment build­ings. The Parsi fire-temple, the “kom­dey chi agyari”, so called because it’s crowned by a rotat­ing weath­er­cock, is still very much there and untouched.

Of course, when I think or dream of Poona, it’s not of the developed, crowded, heav­ily-traffic-rid­den city; the adjunct of Mum­bai that is the real Pune today.

4 How much of Far­rukh founds its way into Darius?

As I said at the start, Darius or Dara and I grew up together and shared books, friends and stor­ies through our teen­age years and our 20s. Years after his death, of can­cer of the tongue, I ima­gined, for this fic­tion, what he would think and do.

Inev­it­ably, my own exper­i­ences, mod­i­fied to take in his beliefs, became the sub­stance of the novel’s char­ac­ter.

Saaz Aggar­wal let­ters@hindus­tan­times.com
18 Jul 2026
Hindustan Times

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