Critic, writer, and academic Arupa Patangia Kalita is a nationally recognized voice in contemporary Assamese literature and a 2014 Sahitya Akademi Award recipient. Her work, grounded in unflinching social realism, explores the complex history and social upheaval of India’s North East. She documents the devastating impact of militancy and conflict on ordinary lives, focusing especially on women and those from marginalized backgrounds.

Her narratives map the geography of the ‘Laal’—political bloodshed, sexual repression, and systemic trauma. Kalita shows how patriarchal norms deepen women’s suffering, treating the female body as an object of control and gaze. Her most powerful contribution is her portrayal of the ‘insane women’ (pagoli), who become repositories of suppressed histories of violence and psychological wounds.

Like others in this issue, Kalita’s works affirm resilience, revealing how her characters transform victimization into an “indomitable will to struggle” against oppressive power structures.

In the midst of a bleak academic and literary season, she generously agreed to speak with us over email.

(interview by Angad Bharaj, Anikyet Bhusal and Madhurjya)

Every writer carries a world inside them. How did Felanee’s world first begin inside you? Was there a single image, incident, or emotion that started it all?

‘Felanee’ didn’t come to me in a flash. I carried the characters, the incidents in me for a long period. This novel is based primarily on real life events. I saw how two major agitations and terrorist uprisings crippled the lives of the common people in Assam. Women and children were the worst sufferers. The marginalized section of the society had to bear the unbearable. Though they had no role in creating the violent time, yet they were the people who had to bear the brunt. Creating ‘Felanee’ has been a painful task for me. At that time I was in the vortex of a severe emotional turmoil. Unable to bear the insane time shrouding us, I took up my pen to keep myself stable. I wrote what I saw. And something that I didn’t see but knew to be true. The manuscript of ‘Felanee’ was smudged with tears!

Women from the Northeast are subjected to greater discrimination as compared to women from other parts of India. Was Felanee your way of giving them a voice?

I am of the opinion that the women of the North-East have to face discrimination in almost all the facets of life. The reasons behind are clearly socio-economic, political or geographical in nature. I have tried to bring out the invisible history of these women pushed back to the background. At the same time I want to tell the story of their courage, struggle for survival and their resilience.

As the youth of today are too young to have experienced the Assam Agitation of the 70s and 80s, how do you think they can make sense of what happened and how it affects them?

I was a college teacher, I was with my students right from 1978 to 2016. I saw from close quarters the effect of the movements on the student community. I saw some of my students’ transformation from gentle law-abiding boys into ferocious terrorist leaders. I saw the tragedy of frustrated students. I had to witness how they were killed on the roads like dogs. Some of them were on the verge of madness as a result of the intense stress they were under. In my writings, one will find their portrayals--dark, sad and helpless.

When describing the details of the violence you tend to lean towards a factual and visceral style, what made you wish to adopt this specific style?

It is not style or form. It is simple narration. I just tried to bring out the time that I had to face. The content demanded a direct, plain narrative. I think an attempt at stylistic experiments would have harmed the novel.

You’ve often portrayed Assam’s histories as intimate, lived experiences rather than distant events. In that sense, what does laal mean to someone who has witnessed both love and loss in the shadow of conflict? Is it the colour of survival, or of memory?

There are descriptions of a violent period in Assam. I felt the violent period on my pulses. I have written about those incidents not as a distant observer, but from within the core of them, as a participant in the course of events in a number of ways. Yet as a writer I think I have achieved a kind of objectivity which has lent authenticity to the narrative. Red, ‘Laal’ is the colour of blood. Blood is life. In a way the red colour signifies life itself. Red is the chosen colour of the rebels. Let ‘Laal’ uphold life with all its glories, exploring all its possibilities.