On Language, Representation, and the Unsung India: A Discourse by Jeyamohan, the author of The Stories of the True.
Transcribed by: Jegadeesh Kumar
October 27, 2025, at Colleton County Memorial Library, Walterboro, SC, a circle of dedicated writers gathered for an afternoon of literary exchange with renowned Indian author B. Jeyamohan. Hosted by the community group Writers Who Write, the event offered a rare opportunity to engage directly with a writer whose work has reshaped Tamil and Malayalam literature through its philosophical depth and cultural resonance.
Writer Jegadeesh Kumar opened the session with a warm welcome and introduced Mr. Jeyamohan to the audience, highlighting his contributions to Tamil and Malayalam literature and his global reach through recent English translations. Jeyamohan spoke on The Unsung India, reflecting on the lives, languages, and moral landscapes often overlooked in mainstream narratives.The talk was followed by introductions from local writers, who shared their creative journeys and responses to Jeyamohan’s stories. What follows is a full transcript of that conversation.
Jegadeesh Kumar: Writers and friends, my name is Jegadeesh Kumar, and I’m a member of Writers Who Write. It’s a pleasure to welcome you all to this special gathering where we have the honor of hearing from one of India’s most influential literary voices—author B. Jeyamohan—who will be presenting his discourse on The Unsung India.
He’ll speak on this topic for the first ten or fifteen minutes, and then the writers in attendance can introduce themselves and share the work they’ve produced so far. You’re also welcome to share your thoughts on some of Mr. Jeyamohan’s stories. When it’s time to speak, I’d encourage you to come to the front—I’ll place a chair here so your remarks can be properly captured.
Now, I’d like to formally introduce Mr. Jeyamohan. He is a prolific and widely respected writer who works in both Tamil and Malayalam. His contributions span fiction, literary criticism, philosophy, and cultural commentary. Over the past four decades, he has authored numerous novels, short story collections, essays, and memoirs, engaging deeply with India’s literary and spiritual traditions.
Among his most monumental works is Venmurasu, a 26-volume reimagining of the Indian epic Mahabharata, serialized over six and a half years. At over 25,000 pages, it is considered one of the longest novels ever written—not just in Tamil, but globally. His earlier novel Vishnupuram is also widely acclaimed for its philosophical depth and narrative innovation.
Four of his books have been translated into English. One of them, A Fine Thread and Other Stories, was translated by me. His most recent English-language release, Stories of the True, was published earlier this year in the United States by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, bringing his work to a broader global audience.
Beyond his writing, Mr. Jeyamohan is a mentor and guide to a vibrant literary community. He awards excellence in writing through the Vishnupuram Literary Circle, a collective he established to support serious literary work in Tamil. Under his guidance, Tamil Wiki—an online encyclopedia dedicated to Tamil language and culture—continues to grow as a vital public resource.
He is also a committed teacher of Eastern philosophy, conducting annual classes in Boone, North Carolina, where he engages with spiritual seekers from the United States and around the world. In fact, he will be leaving for this year’s session in just two days.
To his readers, Jeyamohan is more than a writer—he is a mentor, a moral compass, and a spiritual teacher. Affectionately called “Je” or “Aasan,” meaning “teacher,” he has inspired generations of readers and writers alike. His essays and lectures on ethics, literature, and Indian philosophy have shaped public discourse and nurtured a vibrant intellectual community across India and beyond.
Please join me in warmly welcoming Mr. Jeyamohan as he shares his reflections on hidden narratives, forgotten voices, and the enduring truths of The Unsung India.
Jeyamohan: I don’t know how I can communicate with you because of my strange accent. See, I’m very Indian, and I’m not very comfortable with this strange language—English. I was born and brought up in the southern tip of India, near Kanyakumari. My mother tongue is Malayalam, and I learned Tamil later in my life. I write in both Tamil and Malayalam. So English is a very strange language to me. I will try to communicate slowly, using simple words, so you can follow me.
The first thing I want to say is that modern writing in Tamil has its own course. We have a lot of major artistic works in Tamil. But we are not popular among other Indians, and we are not known to the world—until now. This is the first book ever translated and published in the USA from our language. This is the first book. And I dare to say, it is the simplest book I’ve written. It’s a very plain and direct collection of short stories. The stories are emotional and straightforward. I’ve written many works with more complexity, with historical references, cultural nuances, and spiritual themes.
The theme of my talk here is “The Unsung India”—that means the unknown India. There are many Indian writers who are popular in the U.S., particularly. Like Jhumpa Lahiri. Many Indian writers are popular here in the U.S., but frankly, they do not represent India.
How can I say that? I’ll say something funny: if a person can pronounce English perfectly, he is not representing India. Yes. If someone speaks English fluently and with perfect pronunciation, he cannot communicate with Indian people. He belongs to the upper class of India. He is the residue of colonial rule—a product of the class created by European colonizers. He cannot understand India. He cannot write the inner truth of India. That’s a major problem.
Even now, India is still ruled by these kinds of people. If someone wants to become powerful, or an officer, or an intellectual, he must know English very well. But by learning English, he becomes alienated from the masses of India. Slowly, he becomes part of a particular ruling class. This problem exists not only in India, but also in South Africa and many African countries. A person who is well-versed in a European language becomes an alien in his own land. He is popular among Europeans because of his language.
So if an American wants to understand India, he must learn about the real India through the real authors—those who are not popular among the European diaspora. That’s the major challenge in understanding third-world countries, especially Asian and African nations.
I read a lot in English. Let me refer to two authors. One is Chinua Achebe—you may have heard of him. Things Fall Apart is his novel. Achebe is an American-born African writer. He is considered a representative of African literature here. But his works do not represent African reality. I’ve traveled in Africa, and I know Africa better than most Westerners. But Ben Okri, who belongs to that land, is a perfect representation of African reality.
Chimamanda Adichie is another example. She is an American writer writing about Nigeria, but she does not represent Nigeria. She creates a reality shaped by Europeans, for Europeans. You have to go to Nigeria to find the real author—someone writing for Nigerian people. Only then can you understand Nigeria. A person writing about Nigeria while living in the U.S. is not Nigerian. That’s the difference.
So what makes the difference? That’s the question I’m raising here. I’m speaking to you as writers. I wouldn’t say this in a college or public meeting. The modern Indian thought is designed and controlled by colonial thinkers and philosophers. They collected Indian texts, gave them meaning, interpreted them, and over 200 years created an intellectual class in India. European scholars shaped this perception of India.
An American can easily understand a Western author who wrote about India. Indian authors often imitate those Western voices. For example, Salman Rushdie imitates E.M. Forster. Forster was a Western writer who lived in India and wrote about it. Almost every Indian English author imitates Western artists who wrote about India.
So if two books are presented to you—Stories of the True and Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie—a Western reader will naturally choose Rushdie’s book. It’s easier to understand. The technical terms are comfortable to pronounce. A little while ago, Mr. Stephen struggled to pronounce my name. If you cannot pronounce a name, you cannot remember it. That’s why names are often changed—to make them easier to pronounce and remember.
But this kind of writing does not represent the people. There are millions of people living in India. They should be heard. They should have a voice in the center of the world. Europe and America are the centers of the world. Our voices must be present there. If you change our realities to suit your taste, and then understand those altered realities as authentic, we are betrayed.
India still has no role in the global intelligentsia. A well-read literary critic in the U.S. may read 100 books a year about India, but still know nothing about India. That’s what’s happening. I cannot give my book to a major literary critic here—they cannot understand it. It contains cultural and historical details that are unfamiliar.
For example, one of my stories, Karzhu Madan, was published in Granta literary magazine this month. It’s about the sacrifice of a person in 19th-century India, set in a matriarchal society in Kerala. The editor asked me to remove the matriarchal details, saying their readers wouldn’t understand. I said no. If you’re not interested, don’t publish my story, I said. “You’re not editing my story—you’re editing my culture.” After a month of discussion, they agreed to publish it as is.
Western editors often try to edit Indian culture—not just the text. They want to change names, cultural details, and history to make the book a “blockbuster.” Arundhati Roy’s book was a blockbuster in the UK because it’s not an Indian work. The heroine’s perception is essentially Western.
There are techniques for writing these kinds of books. The hero or heroine should have a Western mind—either returning from the U.S. to India, or being Western-educated. A common Indian cannot be the hero of a novel for Western readers. That’s the problem. We are fighting against this tendency. It’s neo-colonialism—a colonialism of thought.
My works were not translated until I was 60. I’ve written nearly 320 books in Tamil. They are very popular in my language. I can proudly say I helped shape modern Tamil thought. But not one work was translated into English until recently. It’s tough to translate. Then I found my translators - who were born and raised in the US and UK, especially women translators. They were bored with standard Indian translations. They found me and began translating my works. That’s how my work reached English readers.
The Unsung India is the unknown India to the West. The West uses the East as a mirror to itself. In that mirror, you’re not seeing India—you’re seeing your impression of India. You’re seeing yourself.
I tell my editors: don’t edit my text. You can improve the language, but don’t change the cultural nuances. The text is based on those nuances. There are two kinds of editing—cultural and ideological. Western liberal and Marxist ideas are popular in India. We believe in them and fight for them. But my mother doesn’t believe in those ideas. She has her own tradition and thoughts. She won’t talk about feminism, but she’s not a slave. She’s a matriarch—an independent woman.
If I want to be a successful Indian author in the U.S., I must write with minimal cultural detail, no historical references, and reflect popular American ideas. Then I’ll be popular. But why should I be popular in the U.S.? I earn money from writing movies. I don’t need money from books. Popularity in the U.S. is a myth. You can be popular for one or two years—maybe ten at most.
Last week, I searched for David Foster Wallace in a Barnes & Noble. Not a single copy was available. He died in 2005. The salesman said he’s an “old author.” I used to read thrillers and commercial fiction—none of those authors are on the shelves today. They’ve disappeared.
So I don’t want to be a popular Indian author here. I want to represent the real India. I want to be original, not popular.
I recommend my book Stories of the True. It’s easy in Tamil, but not easy in English. It has cultural nuances. It represents real life in India—our mothers, our poor people, our villages, our culture. A Western reader must invest time and patience to understand it.
You may ask: why should I pay attention to read this book? My answer is: I spent a lot of time reading your books. It took me a year to understand Moby Dick. I used encyclopedias to understand the text. I struggled to read American texts. I was repulsed by Color Purple. But I worked on it. I even translated some parts of it to understand it. So I paid attention to your texts. Can you pay some to read mine?
