What is Literature?

What is Literature?

What is literature? To answer that question, I have to examine my own journey with it, but I wonder where should I start from? Should I begin with the stories my great grandmother used to tell me, the ones that kept me occupied throughout my summer vacations? Or should I begin with my grandfather’s little book collection that ignited the desire to be well read? I suppose I will also have to tell you about Disney Princess Belle who used to be so engrossed in her books that she didn’t care about anyone else and I wanted to be like her. And I have always been envious of her enormous library. 

But my literary  journey truly begins in my classroom, where I first heard about a French writer, whose works inspired real life inventions like submarines and rockets. I was simply enchanted by the idea that somebody’s fictional stories can create such a change in our world. Soon I picked up one of his books, the first novel I’ve ever read - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. Although, I will admit it was a difficult read and I didn’t quite understand it but I was enchanted by Captain Nemo. 

After that, I decided to read books that I would understand. So, I began with children’s literature. The fairy tales about the boy who never grows up (Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie) and mysterious wizards (The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum). I read books about secret gardens, little girls with power of imagination and determination (The Secret Garden and The Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett), and strange wonderlands (Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll). I still find myself re-reading Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince, trying to understand the timeless wisdom delivered in a childlike perspective. 

These books became the path that led me to the magical world of Hogwarts. I realised my ability as a reader while I read The Harry Potter books which were simply impossible to put down. These books were my first literary obsession. My second obsession was the genius detective of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The mysteries of Sherlock Holmes, the London streets and the 221B Baker Street flat, were truly the best of times.  

Another significant part of my literary journey were the Indian mythical tales. I simply did not understand how a story can be retold again and again, and still hold its charm. What is it about these stories that make us want to read them even if we already know the ending? In pursuit of this question, I spent many days wrapped up in mythological fiction books like Asura and Vanara by Anand Neelkanthan, Lanka’s Princess, Ahalya’s Awakening, Karna’s Wife, and The Fisher Queen’s Dynasty by Kavita Kané, Devdutt Pattnaik’s Jaya, Mythiya, and Olympus. Out of all these, the one that I admired the most was The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. 

Around this time, I started my bachelors degree in literature and the mythical stories were replaced by classical novels. I read works of Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Persuasion), Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol, David Copperfeild, The Old Curiosity Shop), George Orwell (Animal Farm, 1984), Emily Brontë (The Wuthering Heights), Bram Stoker (Dracula), Charlotte Brontë (Jane Eyre), and Shakespeare Plays (Julius Caesar, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet). These  classical masterpieces solidified my love for literature. 

Till this point in time, literature was a way to escape life. Something that transports you to a different reality. An opportunity to be in someone else’s shoes.  This idea changed when I started my masters degree. I saw another aspect of literature which I had been ignoring till now. That is, literature’s ability to reflect our own reality. How it can be a tool for resistance. A voice for the marginalised people. I had avoided political literature because it made me uncomfortable. My master's journey taught me that it is the duty of literature to make the reader uncomfortable so that they may think something new. I also discovered the analytical part of literature. The theories with which you can evaluate, not only literary works, but life itself. I was acquainted with a few philosophical ideas and theories, but studying them in detail made me truly understand and appreciate them. 

My journey with literature has been one of discovery, first as a form of escape, then as a means of understanding the world, and finally as a tool for critical thought and resistance. From childhood stories to complex theories, literature has shaped my perception of reality and continues to challenge me. And perhaps that is what literature truly is—something that grows with us, constantly evolving as we do, always offering new perspectives if we are willing to see them. I would say literature is a way of life.

How Literature Shaped Me 

As I attempt to examine how literature has shaped me, the words of Franz Kafka echo in my mind: 

“All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.” 

I believe my relationship with literature is something similar. There is no version of my life untouched by its influence. It is not just a passion but an inseparable part of my identity, woven into my thoughts, my choices, and even my ways of understanding the world.

Literature has not only shaped my imagination but also my moral compass. I try not to judge people because of Nick Carraway’s father's advice in The Great Gatsby. His quiet reminder that we should not be too quick to form opinions, as not everyone has had the same advantages remind me that every person carries an untold story, and it is unfair to reduce them to a single moment or mistake.

Reading has also taught me to constantly challenge my own perspective. Every novel, every story, has made me aware of the infinite ways in which a single event can be understood. I have learned that truth is rarely singular and that empathy lies in acknowledging these multiple truths. I have found myself trying to understand different realities beyond my own. It is because of books that I pause before forming an opinion, and I wonder about what is left unsaid.

I often think of Deenanath from Amitav Ghosh’s Gun Island, who saw literature as his escape from the narrowness of his circumstances:

“They had created dreams and desires that were unsettling in the exact sense that they were the instrument of my uprooting.” 

His words resonate with me because I, too, have felt the pull of stories, leading me to question the boundaries of my circumstances. Books have unsettled me, inspired me, and sometimes even left me yearning for places, times, and experiences beyond my reach.

I don’t think there is a life possible for me free of literary influences. Even when I am not reading, literature lingers in my thoughts, shaping the way I see and navigate the world. It is both my lens and my anchor, my means of escape and my way of returning to reality with new understanding.

My Metaphor for Literature 

My metaphor for literature is windchime — a delicate, yet profound object that responds to the unseen forces around it. Just as a windchime remains silent until stirred by the wind, literature often reveals its true meaning when it interacts with the subtle currents of society, history, and human emotion. The wind itself is invisible, but its presence is felt through the sound and movement of the chimes. Similarly, literature helps us perceive those undercurrents of life that may not be immediately apparent like caste and class divides, injustice, corruption, and the silent struggles of marginalized voices.

A windchime does not create the wind; it simply responds to it. Likewise, literature does not invent the world’s complexities, but it resonates with them. It picks up on the unspoken and the overlooked, turning what might seem intangible into something we can see, hear, and feel. Injustice, for example, might be an invisible force in society, hidden behind systems of power and everyday normalcy but through literature, it becomes audible. Works like Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things bring to the surface the caste-based oppression that often remains veiled, much like a sudden gust of wind makes a windchime sing.

Furthermore, literature, like a windchime, does not offer a single, monotonous note. It produces a variety of sounds — some soft and melancholic, others sharp and jarring — reflecting the diverse human experiences it captures. Just as a windchime's tune changes with the wind’s direction and intensity, literature shifts its voice based on the context in which it is written and read. A novel written during a period of colonial rule may sound different from one written in a postcolonial era, yet both echo the unseen forces of power, resistance, and identity.

Literature also possesses the unique ability to draw attention to the interconnectedness of these hidden currents. Just as each piece of a windchime is connected by a thread, so too are the various aspects of human life linked in complex ways. Literature helps us hear these entanglements, often showing how an injustice in one sphere ripples into another.

Additionally, a windchime requires movement to create sound. It is not static, just as literature is never a passive reflection of society. Both respond to motion — of time, of change, of struggle — and adapt their resonance accordingly. Literature’s power lies in its ability to move with the times while keeping a steady tune of truth and humanity. Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale not only reflects the gender politics of its time but also continues to chime in today's world, its notes reawakening with every new gust of social and political upheaval.

Ultimately, literature as a windchime reminds us that the most important forces shaping our lives are not always visible to the eye. The winds of caste, class, injustice, and corruption blow quietly, often unnoticed but literature captures their presence and transforms them into something we can sense, question, and understand. It makes the invisible visible, the silent audible, and the overlooked undeniable.

Just as one cannot control the wind but can listen to the music it creates through a windchime, we may not always control the world’s unseen forces, but through literature, we can hear their echoes. And in that hearing, there is the possibility of awareness, empathy, and change.