In early December 2021, I received an invite to the Jaipur Literary Festival to speak about my novel Diving for Pearls, which tells the story of Irish expats living in Dubai. Dubai is a three-hour flight from New Delhi; for affluent Indians, it’s a common place to holiday or emigrate. So, it was exciting to talk about the city to their geographical neighbours, who know it well.
The festival, scheduled for late January, almost didn’t happen. Omicron put a massive spanner in the works. It was looking at one point like I might have to spend two weeks in quarantine upon arrival in India if I wanted to visit. When I had heard nothing about my flights by the first week of January, I had given up hope it was going ahead. With so much of life being cancelled over the last two years, I was trained not to look forward to anything: family visits, weekends away, or nights out with friends. This was simply another thing to accept.
However, good news came. The festival was simply postponed to March and in a way, it worked out for the best. It allowed the scope of the trip to be expanded. Ambassador Ward and his team in the Embassy of Ireland in New Delhi were fantastic in promoting my work to Indian audiences and connecting me with local writers. Notably, they organised a talk with English literature and creative writing students at the Jawaharlal Nehru University and co-ordinated an official Indian launch of Diving for Pearls in the Oxford Bookstore.
The Delhi and Jaipur audiences, as I experienced them, have lots in common with the Irish worldview. Both of our countries have emerged from the yoke of the British Empire in the 20th century. Also, the question of immigration, leaving one’s homeland in search of opportunity and all it entails, is something that has affected both countries for centuries. So, when I spoke about Diving for Pearls and how it addresses these issues, I felt there was a kinship, an intrinsic understanding of what I described.
I did have a little time to explore New Delhi, helped by Umesh, an excellent guide, without whom I might still be lost in the ancient laneways near Jama Masjid Mosque. I realise I fall into cliche, as I describe my time on rickshaws, spotting brash monkeys rummaging through bins, lackadaisical cows happily living on roadsides, lazy, contented dogs sleeping unhindered in the middle of pavements, and the chaotic car-horn-fuelled traffic in the city and not a safety belt in sight.
In truth, it was all these things and much more. In Dilli Haat market, I was lucky to come across a trans woman performing a traditional dance for International Women’s Day. Each of these encounters added up to a feeling of aliveness after what has felt like a bleak winter.
The Jaipur Literary Festival, the world’s biggest, is a dazzling spectacle, which in previous years has attracted names such as Margaret Atwood, Oprah and the Dalai Lama. I was interviewed by the brilliant Manasi Subramaniam, associate publisher and head of rights for Penguin India. I felt at the heart of a celebration of literature on a scale I have never experienced before. That is to say nothing about the beauty of the outdoor pavilions, where the events took place, a sort of lush paradise for those who love books.
As I reflect on my trip, I think about Diving for Pearls. Underneath the mystery of a dead Emirati girl in the novel, it reflects on the extreme inequalities, particularly economic, which exist in Dubai. The land of haves and have nots. India similarly grapples with a profound wealth gap between its richest and poorest, as was evident when I travelled between the different areas of New Delhi. I had been warned by Tony, my well-travelled neighbour in Kenmare, that I would witness a level of poverty I couldn’t possibly imagine. He was not lying. Of course, my experience of India was limited, only 10 days and just two cities, but as I arrived back in Ireland, I felt acutely aware of how much I complain about things that are positively inconsequential compared to the challenges the poorest in India face.
I am left pondering about Ireland. Here we see this gap between haves and have nots widening. There is a whole generation of young professionals my age and younger who have bought into the social contract that if they work hard, they can reap the rewards of their work, such as buying a home and securing their financial future. They would have their share of Ireland’s recent wealth. And yet, a large majority have been denied this. What happens if this continues for a couple of generations? Will these people, unable to gain generational wealth, fall further behind? In Dubai and India, I have witnessed where this increasing inequality ends, and it’s not to be romanticised with notions of colourful markets, rickshaws, and ancient temples.
I am truly grateful to the embassy and Culture Ireland for the support they gave my trip. On a personal level, this last winter in lockdown has been a heavy one and since the new year my writing has suffered. The war in Ukraine had further added to this bleak feeling. I have fallen victim to what Margaret Atwood called doomscrolling. Yet, India has allowed me to rediscover a joy that had felt dimmed. There are wonderful creative people all over the world, doing inspiring work every day. I am grateful to be reminded of that.
The final day of my visit was an add-on of my own. I took a trip to the Taj Mahal, known in India as "the world's greatest monument to love". I could not fly almost 10,000km to Jaipur and not travel the final 300km to see it. I witnessed the sunrise over its iconic domes, a childhood dream realised, and the perfect end to the 10-day trip.
Jamie O'Connell is the author of Diving for Pearls. The paperback is published on April 7th.
