Updated On: 23 August, 2025 08:38 AM IST | Mumbai | Fiona Fernandez
From discussing how the revoking of his Indian citizenship will impact his writing, to his journey of self-discovery and self-belief through his travels across the world, Aatish Taseer’s A Return to Self will intoxicate and indulge the reader in equal measure. Excerpts from an interview

The Imam al Husayn shrine in Karbala, Iraq, in the days leading up to Ashura. Pics Courtesy/Aatish Taseer
Post the revoking of your Indian citizenship, what for you, will always remain as your idea of India? Will you continue to write stories about the country?
It’s a little like that line from Camus: “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” There is an inviolate India, the understructure of my creativity that is beyond the reach of this government, but I must also contend with the fact that the physical country has now closed behind me, taking with it everyone I know and love. I don’t know what the effect of this closure will have on my imagination, whether it will be suggestive, or sterile. Many writers have worked out of loss — Bellow from his childhood Chicago; Chaim Grade from Jewish Vilnius, or Vincent O Carter from Black Kansas City. Perhaps, the same will be true of me, perhaps this loss will feed my creativity, allowing me to write and document a world that has ceased to exist — and, as an extension, salvage and recreate what is gone.
How did you shortlist these locations for A Return To Self (HarperCollins India)?
I have this amazing collaboration with the novelist Hanya Yanagihara, who is also the editor-in-chief at T Magazine. She has a great feeling for my concerns, related to syncretism, historical controversy and the unquiet fault lines of the past. She puts a lot of thought into what assignments would work for me, such as writing about the lotus in Hindu-Buddhist thought, or Islamic Spain. Each of these places are like the facets of a mirror, allowing me to explore my deepest preoccupations. In Spain, particularly, I was able to reckon with the existence of a plural society that had been violently cleansed of its plurality. For an Indian — [Spain fell to the Arabs within a year of Sindh] — you can imagine how this is an extremely emotive subject, a way to deal with the present through the ghosts of the past. Each of these pieces are like that — an exercise in finding the ideal fit between the writer, the place and the world beyond. I have used the alienation of background as a way to better see myself.
Gallengolla Rajamaha Vihara, Sri Lanka