Mukahang Limbu is a Nepali writer based in Oxford, UK. He has received global recognition for his poetry, winning the Foyle Young Poet Award by The Poetry Society three times, in 2016, 2017 and 2018, and the Outspoken Prize from the Out-Spoken Press in 2019.

His work has been published in various collections, including ‘England: Poems from a School’ and ‘Nascent’. In 2023, Limbu won the prestigious Eric Gregory Award for his debut book, ‘Mother of Flip-Flops’, which was published in 2022.

In an interview with the Post’s Aarati Ray, Limbu shares his love for reading, how it influences his writing, and the challenges that he faced while establishing himself as a Nepali migrant writer in the UK.

How connected were you with reading growing up?

I started reading when my family moved to the UK in 2007. When I was eight, a friend lent me a couple of books on a school bus; that is when I was hooked.

Even though my parents didn’t really push me to read at home, they sometimes took me to the library, where I read mythology books like ‘Ramayana’, and fiction novels like the ‘Harry Potter’ series. A couple of years later, I was obsessed with books, even staying up late during school breaks and holidays just to read. In my teens, I was really into fiction.

Nowadays, I mostly read memoirs, poetry and translated literature. Recently, I have been exploring French and Italian authors like Annie Ernaux and Elena Ferrante as well.

How connected do you feel to Nepali literature given your upbringing abroad?

I have to admit, I’m not as connected to Nepali literature as I would like to be. When I was younger, I could understand some Nepali, but living in the UK made it difficult to keep up with reading in Nepali. However, I do follow some authors like Muna Gurung and Manjushree Thapa.

I've also checked out collections from Kathmandu Post. I'm still working on building a stronger connection to Nepali literature.

What inspired you to write your debut book, ‘Mother of Flip-flops’?

Well, you can interpret it as an influence of me moving abroad when I was young as well but it’s mainly about my relationship with my mother, family dynamics, and a bit about Gurkha history, as my grandfather was a Gurkha soldier.

Could we interpret the emphasis on your relationship with your mother in the debut book as a metaphor for your connection with the motherland?

Memories from Nepal often find their way into my poems and writings. While my relationship with my mother might touch on aspects of my upbringing in Nepal, I think it’s more about my childhood experiences there.

I’m always reflecting on Nepal and wondering what my life would have been like if I had stayed there. Would I be a national badminton player instead of a writer? The elements of Nepal and migration are present, but it’s not always the central focus.

I also believe good poems should not narrow themselves down to one specific theme; they leave room for interpretation and spark a plurality of ideas.

What’s your take on the notion that reading fiction is merely a pastime and not as significant or serious as other forms of literature?

Everyone is entitled to their opinion but I think fiction is serious too. It’s not just made-up stories; it’s a mix of imagination and what authors observe in the world around them. Whether it’s about society, politics or personal change, fiction can be insightful.

Sure, some people might see certain types of literature as more important, but I think people should only read what they like. There shouldn’t be a hierarchy when it comes to reading.

You also worked as the editor-in-chief for Oxford University’s student magazine, ‘The Isis’. How different is editing from writing?

Editing is something I really love. Every writer, including myself, needs to edit their work. Even if you think a piece of work is your magnum opus, you must edit it.

Through editing, I have learned a great deal about how others shape their writing and thinking. This has also helped me evaluate and improve my own writing. I have learned to strike a balance between objectivity and subjectivity. Even today, my best friend and I share our work and assist each other with editing. I find this practice essential for growth in writing and learning.

As a young poet and a member of the Nepali diaspora, what challenges have you encountered in establishing yourself in the UK?

While being a migrant is an inherent part of who I am, I don’t want to be limited to being just that. It can be challenging to break out of that box of definition, especially when people only see you as a migrant writer.

Furthermore, it’s tough for Nepali migrant writers to establish themselves in the English literary scene and find opportunities for publication in a foreign country.

There is also the challenge of deciding what to write about as a Nepali writer. Are we just reinforcing stereotypes by focusing on mountains and nature, or is there more to our identity and experiences that we should be exploring? It’s a fine balance between staying true to ourselves and avoiding extending clichés about Nepali culture.

There is also a lack of prominent Nepali figures and voices in the UK literary scene for young people like us to look up to and model ourselves after.

Do you feel pressure to represent Nepal in a certain way while also catering to the expectations of the literary landscape of the UK?

Personally, I haven’t felt pressured to present Nepal in a specific light or to portray a glamorous image of it. I believe it’s unrealistic and even dangerous for one person to be expected to represent an entire country or community.

While I do feel responsible towards my country and consider the impact of my words, I try not to put too much pressure on myself to be a spokesperson for Nepal. Instead, I focus on writing about topics that resonate with me.

What advice would you offer to young writers who are worried about being typecast based on their themes or identities?

My suggestion is to explore all aspects of your identity and interests in your writing. While it’s great to explore topics that are meaningful to you, don’t limit yourself to just one subject.

For example, if people are labelling you as a migrant poet, that’s okay if migration is a big theme in your work. However, make sure to also explore other aspects of your identity and experiences. No one is just one thing or has just one side, after all. It's important to ensure that how you're being perceived aligns with how you want to be seen.

Mukahang Limbu’s book recommendations

A Man’s Place

Author: Annie Ernaux

Publisher: Seven Stories Press

Year: 2023 (Originally published in 1983)

This book recounts the tale of a daughter coming to terms with her upbringing as she paints a picture of her father’s life and passing. Ernaux’s writing can resonate with diverse readers.

The Lives We Have Lost

Author: Manjushree Thapa

Publisher: Penguin Group

Year: 2011

Thapa is among authors I admire a lot. In her book, she offers insights into the political landscape of Nepal post-2001. This book has been helped me enhance my understanding of Nepali socio-political dynamics.

My Brilliant Friend

Author: Elena Ferrante

Publisher: Penguin Random House

Year: 2012 (English)

This is a heartfelt story revolving around the friendship of two women, Elena and Lila. Ferrante’s writing breathes life into these characters, capturing not only their essence but also offering a vivid portrayal of Italy and the essence of true friendship.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

Author: Ocean Vuong

Publisher: Penguin Press

Year: 2019

Vuong’s book tells a story of a son who writes a letter to his mother, even though she can’t read it. Vuong soulfully writes about people who feel stuck between different worlds, and questions how we can help each other without losing ourselves in the process.

The Perseverance

Author: Raymond Antrobus

Publisher: Penned in the Margins

Year: 2018

Antrobus is one of my favourite poets. His words inspire readers with their sincerity. The poems in his book touch on themes of loss, language and tribute, exploring the poet’s experience of losing his father and navigating life as a deaf person.