CHENNAI: Salma (56) is, in herself, a story of a woman who simply refuses to be silenced. Growing up in a conservative Tamil Muslim household in Thuvarankuruchi, she found escape in poetry, pouring her deepest frustrations and desires onto the page. Her writing, raw and unapologetic, gave voice to the struggles of women like her, confined by tradition but hungry for freedom.
She found herself in politics in 2001 when she was elected the Ponnampatti Panchayat president, a post reserved for women. While she fought to improve education for girls during this time, she also got a taste of sexism and discrimination that were deep-rooted in local politics. She joined the DMK in 2004 and, in 2006, contested from the Marungapuri constituency, losing by a slim margin. From 2006–11, she was the chairperson of the state’s Social Welfare Board. This year, the DMK nominated her to the Rajya Sabha and she was sworn in on Friday.
Her works include Saabam, translated as The Curse, a collection of short stories, Irandam Jaamangalin Kadhai, translated as The Hours Past Midnight by Lakshmi Holmstrom in 2004 (in August, a fresh edition will be published as The Dark Hours of the Night) and Manamiyangal, which was translated as Women, Dreaming by Meena Kandasamy in 2020.
Speaking to TNIE, the newly sworn-in Rajya Sabha MP reflects on her journey from poetry to politics and how defiance shaped both her words and her will. Excerpts from the interview.
You entered political life in a constituency reserved for women, your family put you up for it. How did you use that opportunity?
I had taken the pen name of ‘Salma’ because writing was not encouraged in my family. My first collection of poetry was published in 2000 although I had been writing for several years before that. I received so many positive reviews. I counted 38 to be exact. Everyone had been searching for Salma. In the September or October of 2001, the panchayat elections were due and the seat was reserved for women. At first, my husband did not want to give me the opportunity. He went to his mother and then his sister, both of whom refused, because Muslim women could not enter politics at the time. When he finally came to me, I was afraid. I didn’t know politics nor was I interested. I did not have a good opinion of politics.
I called (Tamil novelist, poet and critic) Sundara Ramaswamy and asked for his opinion when there were only 15 minutes left to file nominations. He told me I should look at it as an opportunity, having written for so long without recognition or support from the family, for people to learn about me and my work.
I went ahead. In panchayat elections, men tend to occupy the seats unofficially. They would make the decisions. I was scared of my image as a writer being tainted in case my husband made a mistake.
During this time, the family that was once opposed to my pictures or works being published was now pasting posters with my face on it, across the village. They were parading me in jeeps for campaigns and I was even given a mic. I understood at that time that if they needed me, they would use me as a tool. So I decided that if I win, I should turn this around and take control.
I won. An interview of mine was published in Ananda Vikatan where I decided to tell everyone that I was writer Salma. After the article came out with my photograph, there was no reaction at all at home. Previously they would have picked a fight with me. Now because they had used my photos for campaigning, they could not question this nor ask me if I had been writing behind their backs. Many women are used this way.
First my husband said, “I will take care of everything. I will just need your signature once a month.” But after winning, I told him that I will take it from here, he can relax. I was able to say this because I had some power with me.
Everyone should be political. Whether changes come about or not is different. First I thought I didn’t want to get into politics but that was not the right frame of mind to have. We definitely need politics. How each person works within it is different.
In panchayat-level posts, there are reservations for women. To an extent, women are learning (politics) and gaining courage to operate independently. Nowadays, even if they first come in with their father’s or others’ influence, they learn and take over. In the coming generations, more will change.
If we call a woman councillor, her husband will pick up the call. They don’t get to make decisions although they know their job well, how should they navigate this?
Their educational background, how confidently their families have raised them, are all factors to consider. And then to learn, is important. In the beginning, I too was naive but I searched where I could get some training to take on this role. I found a course at the Gandhigram Rural Institute. I was taught what my role entailed, what power I had. I was told I could even fight, if need be, with the collector. Isolating women happens everywhere. They have to learn what they can do to take it forward by themselves. Otherwise, in the fear that they might make mistakes, they might continue to rely on their husbands.
Q: You have spoken about Periyar’s ‘Pen Yen Adimai Aanal’ book. What kind of an impact did it have on you?
Generally, the circumstances we grow up in will condition us. I grew up in a conservative village with definitions for how a woman should be. It exists even today. You must be a mother and a wife, you must be beautiful. That’s what I too believed at that time, I followed whatever they said.
After school, when my sister and I would reach home, the first thing my mother would say was ‘wash your face, put on some powder, and comb your hair. You look bad’.
Back then I didn’t read books. I read poetry. But as I kept reading and finding more books to read, I found Periyar’s Pen Yen Adimai Aanal in a library. What he said about women broke what I had been believing all these years. He said that I could do what men were doing. He said women did not need hair, need not focus on being beautiful, she could wear pants and shirts. He said that education was important.
As long as we believed in the system, we may have been happy. But once you stop believing in it, there is a pain that stems from knowing that you are unable to live like that. Not getting the opportunity to live the way I wanted was very painful.
I dreamt of becoming a journalist and a scientist. When Rakesh Sharma went to space, I hoped that one day I might too. When reading or hearing of good journalists, I also dreamt of these things but no opportunity came my way because I was not educated. I thought of what I could do from where I am. That was when I began to write. I decided that I should document my experiences. My anger and my opinions became my writings.
Q: Do you remember your first poem? Can you recall the moment your poem was published and how you felt?
I started writing at the age of 13. When I was in sixth standard, I wrote a short story. I had submitted it to Rani magazine, but it was rejected and I was sad. In retrospect, I’m thankful that it was not published. It was a story against women.
At the age of 17, I wrote a poem titled Swasam. I consider that my first poem. This was published before my wedding and people in my village found out that I had been writing. It appeared on the back of a magazine, attributed to Rajathi of Thuvarankurichi. The postman gave it to someone to give it to us. It went around the village, but I never got it. There was such backlash. They said a girl’s name should appear only in a wedding invite. I couldn’t agree with these ideas. Why do people think like this? That was the first of many problems.
Q: Can you talk about the process of translating raw experiences as mentioned in the stories of Saabam/The Curse? Do you think the translations, at least in English, have done justice to your stories?
No translated story can do justice (to the original). You will lose 50% of a story, be it a novel or a short story, in translation. But nothing can be done about it. Mostly, the village dialects, which make a story or poem interesting, are lost. Take Ki. Rajanarayanan’s works for instance. In Tamil, it is so beautifully written. But, lost in translation. We shouldn’t expect much, but be happy with what comes out. If not, these stories will keep circulating only in Tamil circles. One of my novels was translated into Marathi and daily I get at least 10 mails from women there.
Q: Do you still maintain the anger that you had as a writer?
When talking about all the wrong things happening in a place, when we criticise it, I believe a dialogue should take place. We have to look at changing that [the errors]. Literature can record this with sensitivity. But what conservatives do is, they say there is nothing like this [happening], everything is fine. ‘Why are you writing lies?’ they ask, and try to cover it up. If something wrong is happening, is it right to correct it or to conceal it? I write about what’s happening out of concern. Whereas the BJP has hatred. In between the hatred and concern are the minorities, and they need to understand the difference.
Q: Well-meaning liberals face a dilemma at times about criticising issues in a minority religion that is not theirs. They fear contributing to a stereotype. You have criticised from within but faced backlash like Taslima Nasreen. Is it better if criticisms come from within? If yes, are there enough such voices?
There are enough voices, but not from here. The voices have to come from within. Islam says that a society has to change itself. But people who do not want to change use their gender – of being male – to control women in the name of religion. Islam says education is fundamental. Now, when there is a ban on studying or going out, we get angry. What is not mentioned in the Quran is falsely being attributed to the religion. When a woman is educated, she can be independent — that opportunity is not being given. To keep women from being empowered, religion is being used. I don’t like Taslima Nasreen’s writing, it does not have flair. She condemns religion and I believe it is done with an agenda. There is a difference between looking at a society with care, aiding it towards change, and condemning things randomly. She did the latter.
Q: But Periyar can also be seen that way. He was a Hindu by birth but staunchly criticised the religion since he thought it was important to hasten change…
He was against discrimination in a religion. Caste is what he wanted to abolish. We are looking at him as an atheist, and he is being portrayed as one. Discriminating against people based on caste is what he criticised. I look at him like that. With her (Taslima Nasreen) it is not so. It (her ideas) doesn’t come through in her stories. Salman Rushdie is different — you can read his stories repeatedly and it [his ideas] comes across in them. That’s why she (Taslima Nasreen) has encountered so many problems, and many writers feel she did it knowingly. We don’t agree with the exile. That is not right either.
Meanwhile, talking from the inside is different, but telling it as a story with care is what I do. I don’t touch upon religion anywhere. I know of the problems Salman Rushdie or Taslima Nasreen faced and I refrain from going down that path. Society is different, religion is different. I criticise society. I have never touched upon religion and I never will.
Q: When Karnataka brought the hijab ban, from a feminist perspective it seemed wrong, but it also looked like someone was using it for a political agenda. Overall, there is a voice against that rule. How can a society as a whole participate in this dialogue sensitively and contribute to it?
I supported the wearing of hijab. The BJP agenda is to discriminate against minorities. That discrimination is what should be condemned — that should be our first priority. Civil society’s role, according to me, is that when a community is discriminated against and ostracised, they should get together and support the minority. We have to oppose the majority rule. I supported the wearing of purdah. It is a fight within the community.
Q: You said you don't mention religion in your works. But women are often controlled based on religious beliefs. How do you see it differently?
I said, using religion as a shield, men control women. But nowhere has a religion said not to educate women. I have lost many things because of religion. It is not my religion, however, that has said I couldn’t do these things. Religion is used to discriminate against women. I don’t directly touch upon religion in my works. In any patriarchal society, you only see women suffering. I know of Hindu girls who are living a worse life than I did.
Recently, tennis player Radhika [Yadav] was shot dead by her father. Her friend had said that her father did not like Radhika’s freedom and activities, and hence killed her. This is the face of today’s society. This isn’t a matter of religion. The problem runs much deeper. We live in a society that is deeply patriarchal, male-dominated, and still operates with a feudal mindset. Women across communities, regardless of faith, are expected to be quiet, obedient, and compliant.
Q: There’s often a distinction made between mainstream literature and Dravidian literature. Some even dismiss Dravidian literature as not being ‘real literature’ — reducing it to something merely used for political campaigning. How do you respond to such opinions, and how do you view the literary value of Dravidian literature?
We can’t define literature in rigid terms and say, ‘this alone is literature’. In earlier times, only Sanskrit literature was seen as ‘true literature.’ But it wasn’t something a common person could understand — it spoke to and for only a certain elite section of society. What about the rest? Their experiences were excluded. This gap was bridged by leaders like Kalaignar Karunanidhi and Perarignar Anna.
Their works were powerful because they could be understood by the common man. And to me, that is the true purpose of literature — it must reach people, it must speak to them. Kalaignar’s writing spanned across poetry, short stories, novels, even screenplays for films. And he had a strong, devoted readership who admired and connected with his work deeply.
Today, literature is more inclusive than ever. Writers like Ramanichandran and Jayakanthan have their own dedicated readers. Each writer has a unique voice, a distinct way of telling stories. And each one has an audience that values that expression. That is the beauty of literature.
The real problem is when we try to define literature by ranking it — saying, ‘this is the best,’ or worse, ‘this doesn’t even qualify as literature’. Who decides that? Every writer brings something different to the table, and that diversity is what makes literature meaningful and alive.
Q: As a Member of the Rajya Sabha, what is your primary goal or focus? What do you hope to achieve through your role in Parliament?
I come from a party that has always stood firmly for the ideals of social justice. At the heart of our ideology is the belief that everyone in this society should be treated equally, regardless of their caste, religion, gender, or background.
To my knowledge, I am the only woman from the Muslim community in the entire country who is going to take charge as a Member of the Rajya Sabha. This, in itself, speaks volumes about the vision and progressive mindset of our party president and Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, M. K. Stalin. I am deeply grateful to him for giving me this opportunity.
As an MP, I will faithfully represent the voice and principles of my party in Parliament. It’s a responsibility I carry with pride and commitment.
Q: Kamala Surayya was known for her bold and explicit writing — even at a time when such topics were taboo. Today, we see many writers exploring similar themes, but often under the label of ‘queer literature’ or through anonymous platforms. Do you think it’s anonymity that gives writers the courage to write openly about these subjects?
I’ve been considering writing a novel that deals with certain sensitive topics. And while thinking about it, the idea of using a different name and going anonymous crossed my mind. There’s a certain courage that anonymity offers. When you write under your real name, people who know you tend to judge or misunderstand you based on the content, regardless of the intention behind it.
A few years before the death of Kamala Surayya, I had the opportunity to visit her in Kerala, thanks to a friend. She was under police protection in her own home. During our conversation, she said something that stayed with me: ‘Writers write to sense freedom, but my writing has curbed my freedom.’ She also said she felt lonely — that she couldn’t see or find people like her anymore. That sense of isolation weighed on her deeply.
We’ve all witnessed how writers around the world have been arrested for their writing. So, this fear isn’t abstract; it’s real and close.
Q: When it comes to literature, we rarely see Tamil writers coming together as a collective or voicing concerns as a united front unlike in Karnataka and Kerala. Why do you think such solidarity is missing in Tamil Nadu? Also, when it comes to literary recognition, Tamil writers don't seem to receive the higher-ranking national awards as often as writers from Kerala. What could be the reason behind this disparity?
There is politics in groups here that stretches beyond political parties. When Kaaval Kottam by Su. Venkatesan got the Sahitya Akademi Award, one group wrote against it. If there is a voice against my literature, especially from conservatives, shouldn't there be collective opposition from writers? They don't need to support me — they could defend literature. Jealousy runs high in Tamil. No one uplifts the other. In Malayalam, at least when I look from the outside, though there is some talking behind the back, it looks positive. Here, there is no such unity.
Q: Does it have to do with not getting much recognition?
Even for my novels, sometimes I feel bad knowing that the original in Tamil would not receive an award. But they gave the award for the Marathi translation, which can only do half the justice to the original. There is no logic in this. But I don’t know how to lobby.
Q: You have contributed to the literature through short stories, novels, and poems. What do you think is the essence of your contribution?
I can only say that the essence of all my literature is humanity. I see literature as the basis of loving fellow humans. We read so much literature and stories. The pain from reading the sadness or love of others is only possible through literature.
Q: In Tamil Nadu, there were only two political sides — DMK and AIADMK. Now Vijay has started a political party. Generally, minorities vote for the DMK alliance. Now there is talk that Vijay will lure minorities, especially youngsters. His speeches also mainly target minority votes. Is there any chance he gets the votes?
Minorities always vote for the DMK. The pattern has changed only once, that I know of. Because no one can forget the 3.5% reservation (for Muslims and Christians) introduced by Kalaignar. This helped them to get employment and education.
He is standing alone to target minority votes; he knows it won’t happen if he is with the AIADMK-BJP alliance. We don’t know who is behind him contesting alone. But minorities won't believe him. You should have done something before, and they must believe you will do something for them again.
The CAA protests turned the country upside down. If he has true concern for the minorities, he could have spoken in favour of them. Even recently, there were several atrocities against Muslims in North India. But he has not spoken against anything. He has not spoken when Triple Talaq or abrogation of Article 370 became issues. Suddenly, if he says he will save Muslims, it is not believable. The BJP is responsible for all these atrocities. At least he should criticise the BJP, but that is also not happening. He is only targeting the DMK. So, minorities won't believe him.
I think only 5,000 people came for the protest in Chennai (against custodial violence). Minorities will think about who has done things for them. They won't support an actor. In many movies, he has also depicted Muslims badly, showing Muslims as terrorists. These will blow up during the elections.
(On the other hand), MGR (late AIADMK founder and CM M.G. Ramachandran) was part of the DMK; he went to the field with cadres. (Late CM) J. Jayalalithaa took over AIADMK — she didn't start a separate party and come on her own to capture power. As far as Vijay is concerned, if we take field-level politics, he is not out there yet. You can't identify a leader without him coming to the field. I agree that Vijayakant (late DMDK founder) is one actor who people voted for. But that has ended.