Rohinton Mistry
Rohinton Mistry: A Master of Literary Fiction
Full Name and Common Aliases
Rohinton Mistry was born on November 23, 1943, in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), India. He is often referred to by his full name, but some sources also use the alias "Rohan".
Birth and Death Dates
Mistry passed away on March 30, 2020.
Nationality and Profession(s)
A Canadian novelist and short story writer of Indian descent, Mistry's nationality was a defining aspect of his identity. He held both Indian and Canadian citizenship throughout his life.
Early Life and Background
Rohinton Mistry's family moved to Bombay when he was just six years old. His father, Pestonji Mistry, worked as an accountant in the city, while his mother, Gobrika Mistry, was a homemaker. The young Rohinton grew up surrounded by the vibrant culture and diverse influences of India's largest metropolis.
Mistry's early life had a profound impact on his writing. As he navigated the complexities of Indian identity in a multicultural society, he began to develop a unique perspective that would later shape his literary work. After completing his education at St. Xavier's College in Mumbai, Mistry moved to Canada with his family in 1969.
Major Accomplishments
Throughout his career, Rohinton Mistry earned numerous accolades for his contributions to literature. Some of his most notable achievements include:
Giller Prize (1995) and the Commonwealth Writers' Prize (1996) for _A Fine Balance_
Governor General's Award for English-language fiction (2002) for _Family Matters_
His novels are known for their poignant portrayals of the human condition, set against the backdrop of India's tumultuous history. Mistry's writing often explores themes of identity, social justice, and the search for meaning in a rapidly changing world.
Notable Works or Actions
Some of Rohinton Mistry's most notable works include:
A Fine Balance (1995): Set during the Emergency period in India, this novel explores the lives of four individuals from different walks of life.
Family Matters (2002): A nuanced portrayal of the relationships within a Parsi family living in Bombay.
* Such a Long Journey (1991): A poignant exploration of identity and belonging through the story of Gustad Memchance, an engineer struggling to make sense of his place in India's tumultuous history.
Mistry's writing is characterized by its depth, nuance, and attention to detail. His novels often blur the lines between fiction and nonfiction, creating a rich tapestry of characters and experiences that transport readers to the heart of India's cultural landscape.
Impact and Legacy
Rohinton Mistry's impact on literature extends far beyond his own works. He has inspired a new generation of writers to explore themes of identity, social justice, and human connection in their writing.
Mistry's contributions to Canadian literature are particularly noteworthy. As one of the first Indian-Canadian writers to gain international recognition, he paved the way for future generations of immigrant writers. His work continues to resonate with readers around the world, offering a powerful testament to the enduring power of literature to connect us across cultures and borders.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Rohinton Mistry's legacy is deeply rooted in his commitment to exploring the complexities of human experience through his writing. His novels are celebrated for their nuance, depth, and attention to detail, making him one of the most respected voices in contemporary literature.
As a writer, Mistry was known for his generosity, humility, and dedication to his craft. He is widely quoted or remembered for his insightful commentary on the human condition, which continues to resonate with readers today.
In conclusion, Rohinton Mistry's life and work serve as a powerful reminder of the transformative power of literature. His legacy will continue to inspire writers, readers, and thinkers around the world for generations to come.
Quotes by Rohinton Mistry
Rohinton Mistry's insights on:
The joy and laughter and youth they brought was an antidote to the somberness enveloping his flat, the hours when he felt the very walls and ceilings were encrusted with the distress of of unhappy decades.
The photographs had made him aware how much the street and the buildings meant to him. Like an extended family that he’d taken for granted and ignored, assuming it would always be there. But buildings and roads and spaces were as fragile as human beings, you had to cherish them while you had them.
Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl’s hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair.’ He sighed and smiled sadly. ‘But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.
He placed his hand over his heart. “In here, there is limitless room – happiness, kindness, sorrow, anger, friendship – everything fits in here.
The future was becoming past, everything vanished into the void, and reaching back to grasp for something, one came out clutching – what? A bit of string, scraps of cloth, shadows of the golden time. If one could only reverse it, turn the past into future, and catch it on the wing, on its journey across the always shifting line of the present...
Curious, he thought, how, if you knew a person long enough, he could elicit every kind of emotion from you, every possible reaction, envy, admiration, pity, irritation, fury, fondness, jealousy, love, disgust. But in the end all human beings became candidates for compassion, all of us, without exception... and if we could recognize this from the beginning, what a saving in pain and grief and misery.
But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be recreated – not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.
Did life treat everyone so wantonly, ripping the good things to pieces while letting bad things fester and grow like fungus on unrefrigerated food? Vasantrao Valmik the proofreader would say it was all part of living, that the secret of survival was to balance hope and despair, to embrace change. But embrace misery and destruction?
