Beneath the vast, breathing canopy of the Naga hills, where stones skimmed across rivers could vanish into thin air and the stories of old clung to the mountain mist, a young boy named Kato once ran. His journey, from the innocence of skipping stones to the weight of adulthood, is the story of Huthuka Sumi’s debut, ‘Giants’, published by HarperCollins. It is a narrative that stretches across decades, rooted in the rich soil of Sumi culture, asking questions about memory, change, and the marks left by the land that shapes us.

In an exclusive interview with CE, the author Huthuka Sumi delves into the heart of his creation.

Excerpts follow:

Kato’s childhood is vividly brought to life, from skipping stones to outrunning his mother. How did you approach capturing the innocence and mischief of a child in this unique setting?

I don’t think we ever outgrow our childhood. It just finds a nice, cosy place inside us to hibernate like the bears, and if we ever need it, it’s right there. Writing about a boy who was so much like me in my childhood required me to call upon the dear old friend who’d cozied up deep within my soul; and as simple as that sounds the adult constantly got in the way.

Kato’s mother comes across as a hardworking, determined presence. How much of her character is inspired by real-life memories or people in your life?

Very much drawn from real people! Like women everywhere, Naga women too have consistently managed a heroic balance of strength and tenderness. They’ve not simply lurked in the background, but shaped the mountains and hills where they walked. In Nisheli, Kato’s mother, I see reflections of my own mother, my aunts, my neighbours and villagers. I’ve sought to pay tribute to them in her quiet courage and unwavering resilience.

The prologue and epilogue span decades and show Kato at very different stages of life. How did you decide to structure the narrative this way?

‘Giants’ is first and foremost about change, and the decisions it forces on us. Naga history has witnessed upheavals and traumatic change, and Kato is a personification of us as a people. Will we tell our stories with our own voice? Will we find hope, after all? This needed a before and an after.

The story blends reality with elements that feel almost mythical, like the stones that vanish mid-air. How do you balance realism and magical elements in your writing?

The real and the fantastic aren’t as removed from each other as many of us believe. They weave and dance together, finding their way into our consciousness through words like co-incidence, happenstance, unexplained, etc. As someone who grew up with folklores, it wasn’t something that I really had to work for. As anti-climactic as it may sound, it came naturally.

The book is rich in local language, traditions, and even food, terms like jhum cultivation, hekimini, and aliha appear throughout. How did you decide which cultural elements to include and how to present them for a broader audience?

On this, there was a very intentional thought process. I wanted to present a very organic picture of our culture without turning it into an anthropological exercise. Whatever I felt had symbolic resonance I kept, what felt like appendages I omitted.

The mountains and villages in your book almost feel like living characters themselves. How did the geography and natural environment influence the story?

The land is a very strong concept in the book. I believe that as much as we shape the land around us, it too shapes us and claims us. The mountains and the geography aren’t just settings but characters in ‘Giants’.

How do stories within stories like myths and local folklore interact with Kato’s own journey?

There is a misconception that our tribal lore is simplistic and atavistic. It couldn’t be more wrong. There is philosophy, systems, and moral codes woven into them. Every story in the book, even those I created, have this cadence, and each is a microcosm of the journey that Kato takes. The story of the tigers and the man who was marked to be devoured by them is about the inevitability of where Kato’s journey will take him. At the end, despite the enormity of what he faces, will he have courage to stare back at it?

Your writing explores “liminal spaces” where symbols speak more than literal words. How does this philosophy influence the way you write about childhood, memory, and identity?

I do not think that memory is singular or transient; it is a deep well from which the whole of humanity draws from, and adds to, again and again. Perhaps that is why symbols are so powerful, so universal, because all of us access them from the same place. I believe that symbolism is the greatest tool in storytelling. It can bridge cultures and differences.

If someone has never been to the Naga hills or experienced Sumi culture, what do you hope they take away from reading this book?

I’d want the reader to feel breathless from the expansiveness of the mountain air. I’d want them to smile at the ordinariness of the lives of my characters. I’d want them to feel something for a boy, a people, who they’ll never meet. Or maybe they will…

(By Diya Maria George of The New Indian Express)