A brief encounter with Ben Okri

‘All things in life are governed by the law of cycles’, wrote Booker prize winner Ben Okri, in A Time For New Dreams.

So when a Khaleej Times reporter, who is a fan of his, (and who’s horoscope for the day had stated inexplicably enough ‘your limbic mind is limber enough to perform the limbo’), spots the Nigerian poet-author in the ‘meeting area’ of the Intercontinental Hotel on the first day of the Emirates Airline Literature Festival, there’s nothing to do but follow him. Adorning a stylish beret, I can see that he’s busy and heading somewhere, but still, I approach him. There’s something in the air, and about the way the stars, for the day, are aligned. The feeling is good.

Okri — who turns 54 on March 15 — is with the poet Robert McGough. Their steps are brisk. They’re on their way to the room where the author photographs are being captured before the days events begin. I run up to both, but close in on him: “Mr Okri!” Both turn around. “Yes?”, he responds and I bluster inchoate lines about being a big fan and how sorry I am to intrude, but is this a truly terrible time to get my copy of (his) book signed, because I don’t know if I will get the chance later…? I look hopeful, and add, for good measure: “...it’ll take only five seconds.”

Ben/Mr Okri — since that’s what I’m calling him — looks at Mr McGough (I didn’t know then that that’s who he was), and Mr McGough says he’ll go on ahead. Mr Okri, stays behind, and asks for reassurance: “Five seconds?” And I reassure him, run to my bag, fish out his book and am back within eight. He sees the book and looks surprised — pleasantly, to my relief. He asks repeatedly, “…you have a copy of this one?” He sees the dateline and asks: “Where did you get it?” And I catch my breath and say: “Long story, it’ll take longer than five seconds”. But he says no, he wants to hear it. And so I tell him, in all detail: Full Circle (the bookshop), Khan Market, New Delhi, December 2011. I tell him also how the book (my copy of his book) has weathered a few thousand kilometres to reach me, only yesterday, courtesy of a friend who dropped it off only last evening just so I could finally get it signed today. Once earlier, I missed the chance — Jaipur. I tell him that, and I crack a joke and follow it up with another apology, about being badly behaved, and he smiles and says: “No, no it’s unusual,” (or does he say refreshing?), “Please be badly behaved.” And as he opens the page of his/my book to inscribe (with his pen) my name, I ask him to look up — for my camera phone’s eternal archives. I request at the same time to be spared the robotic ‘warm regards’ or ‘best wishes’, but instead I ask him to take a brief considered moment to write me some insta-poetry, and one cycle of Ben Okri for me, grows complete.

nivriti@khaleejtimes.com