A Voice of Her Own: Rishitha Shetty's Story Rewritten
- BANA Seattle
- Jun 22
- 9 min read
If you haven’t heard of Rishitha Shetty yet, now’s the time to take notice.
A poet, editor, teacher, and soon-to-be novelist, Rishitha’s journey is as inspiring as it is unconventional. She began, like so many of us, on a path shaped by expectations—earning an engineering degree in a field she knew wasn’t her calling. But rather than stay the course, she chose to follow her passion for storytelling, one quiet, courageous decision at a time.
Now pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Alabama and teaching at the college level, Rishitha is living proof that it’s never too late to chase your dreams—or to change direction entirely. Her story is an inspiration: a reminder that purpose doesn’t always arrive on schedule, and that creative lives often begin where certainty ends.
We at BANA were deeply moved by her journey and immensely proud to share her voice. With literary influences like Virginia Woolf, Toni Morrison, and Arundhati Roy, it wouldn’t surprise us if one day, the name Rishitha Shetty finds its place among them. For now, she is a writer to watch—and one we are honored to celebrate.
1. Where did you grow up, and how has that place shaped your worldview?
I grew up in Bangalore, away from most of my extended family. I was exposed to a
diverse group of friends. We may not have had shared cultural experiences or similar
upbringings, but this city taught me that it’s possible to build long-lasting friendships
despite all that. Most of my friends enjoy reading like I do. Somewhere along the way, we
convinced each other that because we could read, we could write too. How different
could it be? If you read enough, you internalise all the beats required to produce a
competent story, don’t you? Anyway, my friends moved on to more realistic dreams as we
grew up, but I’ve stayed on course. Found friends who write. That’s another great thing
about this city. It’s so easy to find people who share your exact interests and enable your
flights of fancy. Perhaps, a tinge of regret is that I did not have a close-knit community—
That’s the other thing about growing up in a big city. While it makes you independent, it
makes you averse to asking people for favours. I’m able to recognise this tendency in
myself now, and I’m trying to change that. Perhaps if I were raised in Mangalore, I’d have
had a deeper sense of community and family. Alas, you win some, you lose some.
2. Can you tell us a little about your family background or any generational stories that have
Influenced your journey?
One thing that comes to mind is that in our family home in Mangalore, there is a pitch-
black room, but you can see that the paint has chipped off in places. It looks like someone
was trying to claw their way out of the room. I’ve also heard that black paint was used on
the walls because that’s where the family jewels were kept. The black paint makes the
claw marks pronounced and unsettling. I’ve heard stories from relatives and my mother
that a tiger walked in one day while the menfolk were away, and the women of the house
trapped the tiger there as they waited for their husbands to return. I have to admit, the
story has always seemed a bit fantastical to me— one of those urban legends that started
maybe as an innocuous joke but over generations, has morphed into history. But what if
it was true and it really did happen? Either way, it piqued my imagination. This image is of a
tiger trapped in a room with a treasure chest. Straight out of a Rushdie or Marquez novel.
If it’s true, then what a testament to their courage and ingenuity, and if not, then I guess I
get my sense of whimsy from my family?
3. Were there early moments or lessons in your childhood that hinted at who you would
become?
Definitely. I suppose I’ve always been obsessed with the arts in some capacity. I went to
Bharatanatyam classes for many years. The performance arts take a great deal of physical
endurance, and I couldn’t keep up. But the storytelling aspect had me enthralled, even if I
had no interest in practising the steps. I knew I wanted to be a writer from the third
grade. A lovely English teacher saw an essay I wrote for an exam and read it to the class.
Really, I think everything started from there. She encouraged me to go to an interschool
poetry competition, and I won third place. In subsequent years, other English teachers
saw that I showed promise and encouraged me to go to other creative writing
competitions. In high school, I served on the school editorial.
4. How do you relate to being Bunt today?
I don’t think it’s such an active part of my identity, but it does show up in unexpected
ways. I love that we have movies rooted in Mangalorean culture now, and I’ve shown it
to my Indian and non-Indian friends. Recently, a Turkish friend showed me how to do
the Horon, a folk dance that’s performed at weddings. I pulled up a video of pili vesha
(tiger dancing). We all agreed that we’d throw out a hip if we tried it, and one of my life’s
great regrets is that I can’t perform it, but I love showing it to people. I even wrote a
poem about it many years ago, which got published in a literary journal. There are other
things too. Like the River Nethravati is a motif I return to often in my work. I’m struck by
the story that goes with it. That the red-oxide in the soil makes it blood-red, and so it got
its name from its nether (bloody) hue. What a fantastic story it is!
5. Have you ever felt tension between tradition and ambition? If so, how have you navigated that?
Yes. Growing up, I did not know anyone in my immediate or extended family who shared
my interests. They valued education and independence, of course, but I think for them, it
meant certain vocational tracks— engineering, medicine, etc. I don’t blame them. I’ve
never been forced to give up on my dreams either. But it was clear most people felt I was
dillydallying, wasting my time trying to pursue something that didn’t come with a well-paying job at the end of the road. Even now, even as I pursue a master's that’s fully funded with the tuition paid for, I have the hardest time trying to explain to people why
this university is willing to give me money just so I can write. It doesn’t make sense.
Sometimes, even to me. But I think the best way to navigate it is to find the middle ground.
Yes, there aren’t too many people in the family or community pursuing the arts. But that
just means I have the opportunity to normalise it. There’s also an expectation to settle
down, get married. There’s a certain preordained sequence— you have to get married so
that the younger lot can get married. I’m lucky my parents don’t put those pressures on
me. But I also think having a clear vision of how you want your professional life to go
really helps convince your family, reassure them that there is a plan.
6. Are there particular customs or values from being Bunt that continue to ground you?
When my mother loses something, she prays to Korathi ajji. Promises her beetle leaves
on her next visit if she helps her to locate the item. Now I’m a bit of a sceptic, but I have
to admit, when I misplace something important and I’m desperate to find it, I’m not
above prayers to Ajji.
7. What did your academic and professional journey look like? Was it linear, or something you forged along the way?
I pursued an engineering degree. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t convince my family at
eighteen that I would be better off studying English. I think this was for the best.
Because I did not have access to the humanities through the academic track, I did everything
I could pursue it peripherally. I attended writing workshops, read books on craft and
criticism, and wrote to old English teachers to ask for suggestions. I spent all my time in
college reading. Once college was over, my parents saw that I was serious about pursuing
an English degree— by then, I had a few odd journal publications. I also ended up
applying to MA programs in the UK and got a few offers. I was also miserably trudging
along in an IT job training. I think they understood, too, that I would be a terrible
engineer.
After I did my masters in the UK, I came back to India and worked here for a few
years— as an editor, scriptwriter and ultimately as Staff Writer at National Herald. I was
simultaneously preparing my application packet for the MFA programs. Finally, after
working in India for four years, I got into an MFA in Creative Writing at the University
of Alabama. I’ve been in the program for the past two years. I also teach as part of my
assistantship.
8. Can you share a moment in your career where you chose purpose over convention, or
profit?
I did make some unconventional choices, but I don’t necessarily see them as stemming
from some place that denounced profit. I believed I would be good at my job if I
pursued an English degree, and I would not be good at engineering. It was a fairly logical
decision for me at the time.
9. Have you ever made a decision others called “crazy” that turned out to be exactly right for you?
I guess I have the same answer as the one above for this question.
10. How do you define success for yourself today, and how has that definition evolved?
When I was working, simply making it to an MFA program meant I had succeeded
somehow. That acceptance into this elusive, elite cabal that legitimised my identity as an
artist was enough. Now that I’m here, I see how naïve that was. I guess I don’t have a
singular answer, but I’m working on my novel at the moment, editing the second draft. If
I can get it published by a reputed publisher, perhaps I’ll have made it then, but who
knows? The goalpost keeps moving further away. But the fact that I get to pursue this
dream while teaching English at the college level feels pretty great at the moment.
11. Can you share a story where you felt your work made a real difference?
I’ve had students come up and tell me I’m the best teacher they’ve had. Truly, nothing
I’ve ever done is as satisfying as teaching. I didn’t think I’d be good at it or that I’d enjoy
it as much as I do.
12. What challenges have you faced as a woman in your field, and how did you overcome
them?
There’s always the odd question that niggles at me— is my work gender agnostic? Or is it
overtly feminine? Will men read it? But then I read authors like Elena Ferrante, Sarah
Waters, Toni Morrison, Meena Kandasamy, Arundhati Roy, etc. They give me permission
to stop thinking about those frankly irrelevant questions. Because their work blazes—
not despite gendered writing, but because of it. They don’t shy away from centring the
lives of women. They don’t feel the need to write about extraordinary women. In fact,
most of their protagonists are less than average. And riddled with ordinary insecurities.
But they’re able to reveal so much complexity and psychological depth in the very
mundaneness of their heroines. That inspires me so much as a writer.
13. What does women’s empowerment look like to you, beyond slogans?
Ah, firstly, no slogans. Let’s do away with them altogether. But more importantly, a
smidgeon of self-awareness is so important. Are we, in our pursuit of success,
marginalising other women? Those we employ, those we wield power over, those who
may not have the privileges that we do. The patriarchy already disenfranchises us. We
should not do it to each other.
14. Have you mentored or supported other women along the way? What have those
relationships taught you? Or have you been mentored and supported by other women?
Both. I’ve been mentored by other women, and they’ve taught me how important it is to
assert yourself, especially now as a teacher, an immigrant teacher who is also a woman.
I think there is an expectation of niceness from women who hold authority positions, and
the same is not expected of men. But working with female bosses who were kind, clear in
their intentions, but did not feel the need to mince words, was priceless.
Now, I teach students of all genders, but gender dynamics play out in classrooms, too.
Especially in the current climate where the humanities have been deemed feminine, but
of course, I have students of all genders. Sometimes discussions can turn to sensitive
topics. I try to ensure that people get to say what they want to, without actively harming
marginalised folk. It’s a tightrope walk, and I’m still learning how to do it. But I have a lot
of help from my fellow teachers and professors I've TA'd for in the past.
15. Who inspires you today, and why?
When I was working for the newspaper, I watched the wrestler’s protest in Delhi unfold
very closely. I think its impact was so deep because of how invested I was in it, partly due
to work and partly because of the details that were emerging from that story. Those
women stood their ground despite everything they went through. More recently, reading
the Hema committee report about what women artists go through on film sets and the
steps they took to address the issue, despite grave personal risk, has been extremely
inspiring.
Then again, I have my eternal heroes who shaped my thinking— Arundhati Roy, Emily
Bronte, Jean Rhys, Virginia Woolf.
Some of her work
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