Wasafiri Wonders: Simar Bhasin

Awarded Highly Commended in the 2024 Wasafiri Essay Prize for their paper on Selma Dabbagh's short fiction, Simar Bhasin speaks to us about her scholarship, championing Palestinian literature, love and desire as anticolonial forces, and more.

The 2025 Wasafiri Essay Prize is inviting submissions from early-career researchers, including PhD candidates, offering publication, mentoring, cash, and more. Enter by 30 June, 2025.

What are you working on right now? 

I have two upcoming publications. My article ‘Migrating Possibilities: Jonathan Escoffery’s "In Flux" and "Independent Living"‘, is slated to be published in the special issue 'Transnational Literature in America' of the American Studies in Scandinavia journal, which will be out in fall this year. The revisions for that are what I am working on at present. I also wrote and presented a paper at a recent conference organiseed by the Centre for English Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. The paper, titled ‘Telling the Story Properly: A Study of Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi’s Short Fiction’, is also going to be published with the support of the conference team members. So, I have been working towards getting that ready for the peer review process. Apart from these academic publications I have an interview with Selma Dabbagh, who I was fortunate enough to meet at this year’s Jaipur Literature Festival. The article is in the editing stage and will be published soon.  

What are your thoughts on terms like ‘diasporic’, ‘postcolonial’, and ‘cosmopolitan’ — are they limiting? Do you prefer alternatives and why? 

All these terms mentioned above are associated with specific literary and philosophical traditions rooted in particular historical contexts. For the contemporary age, in my opinion, there are literary works that push, if not question and challenge, these categorisations. If we are to move beyond that which no longer serves the project of decolonising academia as scholars and researchers, we have to explore new terminologies or modes of engaging with these works. Terms such as ‘transnational’ or ‘minor writing’, though not new, offer possibilities of examining the problematic biases or limiting scopes of engagement inherent in terms such as ‘cosmopolitan’ and ‘diasporic’.   

As we continue to witness a genocide unfold in Palestine, where do you think reading and engaging with Palestinian literature fits into acts of resistance? What are its capacities and limitations? 

We are witnessing a genocide unfold in real time, with images and information about crimes against humanity committed by a brutal colonising force being disseminated every day. If we can engage and bring awareness in any capacity, we will be better off for it. My advice will be to read, bring awareness, speak up in every way possible, and also promote Palestinian literature in any way, shape, or form. In the age of misinformation, every act to counter propaganda is an act of resistance. We are up against much bigger forces than what we are probably able to comprehend, and every piece of literature and art that opposes ideological brainwashing is worth engaging with. Especially now.  

In your essay, you elaborate on how desire and love are central to anticolonial aesthetics in Dabbagh’s fiction. Do you think this is true more generally in contemporary literature? Should scholars and writers be focusing more on approaching desire and love as antithetical forces against the violence of colonial psychology and violence? 

Absolutely. Love in general and desire in particular are highly politicised aesthetic modes of expression. And this has been the case throughout historical contexts. Love as an act of resistance has been written and theorised upon. What I wish to highlight is why desire and the ways in which the very acts of desiring come to be represented through the language of literature are worth scholarly investigation. When facing acts of violence that may never fully find authentic articulation through the language of human rights violations, writers turn to literary expression to express that which may never find full expression. This can be witnessed in the works of writers directly on the frontlines and struggling to make sense of an ongoing genocide. As Sarah Ihmoud writes, ‘Our love is vital in this moment because it is revolutionary love that gives us the courage to continue the struggle to affirm Palestinian life and a future in our homeland.’ 

If you could recommend certain books to certain world leaders, what would you say? 

I would take up that chance even if it meant that the book could eventually end up getting banned given the state of ‘freedom of expression’ in ‘democratic’ countries today. And if ever presented with the opportunity, I will recommend Tell Me How It Ends by Valeria Luiselli and Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck to Donald Trump and The World After Gaza: A History by Pankaj Mishra to Benjamin Netanyahu. Just for laughs. 

What is the most memorable piece of writing advice you’ve ever received, even if it wasn’t your favourite? What’s stuck with you the most? 

One piece of advice that I received from my therapist when I was struggling with deadlines was to just dedicate an hour a day to any of my ongoing writing projects without fail. Even if I am just staring at a blank screen the whole time, I should have no other distractions but the pending work in front of me. And one piece of advice that I have started following which works for me is to treat my first draft as a love letter to the project I have undertaken. It isn’t meant to be perfect, but it is meant to be written with honesty and care.  

Cover image: Illustrated by Simone Khanyi Hadebe