Q: The Prince Without Sorrow was a powerful story woven into a mesmerising fantasy world. What was the inspiration behind it? Did it come to you as an epiphany, or did you endure years of relentless creation and re-creation
A: The idea for The Prince Without Sorrow was more epiphanic in nature. I’d always been aware of the existence of Emperor Ashoka growing up. However, during the COVID-19 lockdown period, I remembered this random little side project we did in Year 8. The goal was to list ‘good people’. Even back then, I was bit cynical, and didn’t believe that anyone was truly good. My dad suggested adding Emperor Ashoka (he was known as Ashoka the Great), but after did my research and discovered that he was, in fact, known known for his cruelty before adopting principles of nonviolence, I didn’t add him to the list. Recalling this project led me down a rabbit hole of questions. How deeply did the historical emperor regret his past? Did it weight on him deeply? What if I could write a fantasy story from this arc, and insert witches, nature spirits, and magic? What if I created a fictionalised prince bearing the same name, but a reversed arc? What does it take for someone to let go of deeply ingrained ideals? This was how the idea for the Obsidian Throne trilogy was born.
Q: Having grown up in Sri Lanka, I’ve always yearned to see a high fantasy world inspired by ancient Indian and Sri Lankan mythology. I found it wonderful how you challenged real legends with your own world-building and storytelling. Tell us more about your thinking behind this and the kind of research you did.
A: I used existing legends as a framework. Emperor Ashoka’s life is hazy, and not 100% clear. This was actually a blessing in disguise and allowed me to deviate and make this story my own, including creating a fictional prince whose arc was a reversal of the figure he was inspired by. The Prince Without Sorrow was never going to be a historical novel, but to educate myself, I read the Ashokavadana and the Mahavamsa, history books that detailed the Mauryan Empire (although, there’s not much primary evidence), and portions of the Arthashastra. What I did keep true to form were the Buddhist philosophical concepts scattered throughout the book. You can see it in the way that the mayakari view the world, the concepts of karma, samsara, and anatta, to name a few.
Q: The world of Ashoka and Shakti feels like a world existing parallel to our own. I could see places where our history bled into it and where it broke free from the destinies we’ve created for ourselves. Was this ‘parallel-ness’ intentional and how did it allow you to create the boundaries of your own world?
A: It was a bit of both. Fantasy, in one way or another, will reflect the real world. The persecution of the mayakari was a nod to the Salem witch trials. The angered spirits are a nod to the continued destruction humanity inflicts upon the natural world, often without care for the consequences. And the marginalised leading a rightful revolution against their oppressors – that is something humanity is doomed repeat.
Q: One of the biggest ways The Prince Without Sorrow breaks away from our world is with the existence of magic. How did you create the lore around the Mayakari and the magic system? The word mayakari is familiar to me (meaning witch) and makes me wonder if any part of this magic and its practitioners were rooted in real myth and legend.
A: The mayakari aren’t rooted in one particular culture (though the word itself is used in the Sinhalese language). Witches have always been fascinating to me. They always had a common thread that bound them: that they were intelligent, powerful women who were often misunderstood in the societies they lived in. While I love seeing powerful women wield powerful magic, I made the choice to limit their powers, and have this limitation exist of their own volition. I think there’s something formidable about being able to curse the living and raise the dead, only to purposefully reject using such power because of the hurt it could cause others. In a way, the mayakari resemble ascetics because they follow a specific code: do not curse, do not manipulate, do not harm, do not kill. This code is a very tiny nod to the five Buddhist precepts that aim to reduce suffering (both to oneself than others).
Q: Prince Ashoka, whose name translates literally to ‘prince without sorrow’, is a real figure who bears the history of Buddhism in ancient India and Sri Lanka. Within your story, Ashoka and Shakti challenge core concepts in Buddhist philosophy, like pacifism, instead embracing and embodying resistance. Did you set out to write the characters like this or did they emerge as the story unfolded?
A: Great question! Yes, I did set out to write both characters this way. A prince born into violence, seeking peace and a mayakari shackled by pacifism, seeking revenge – Ashoka and Shakti started off as purposeful parallels before converging. I know Buddhism preaches nonviolence, but I did want to explore just how much one can stick to such ideals when the world around them is anything but. In a perfect world, violence shouldn’t be necessary to achieve liberation, but the problem is that there is never a perfect world (one could argue that’s actually a fantasy). In this story, both learn that revolution cannot begin without violence. Sometimes, it is necessary.
Q: Speaking of characters containing parallels to real figures from history, how did you manage the intricate task of weaving them into a high fantasy world? They truly become your own characters by the end and I find this to be a wonderful accomplishment.
A: Thank you! In book 1, most of the characters are original, except for Prince Ashoka, who was loosely inspired by Emperor Ashoka/Ashoka the Great. What allowed me to give my Ashoka a sense of originality is the historical emperor’s story. His is one that’s mixed with fact and fiction. Much of his life is based on legend, and there isn’t much primary evidence of the Mauryan Empire, which is unfortunate. However, these gaps in his story provided me the creativity to really diverge from real emperor. In The Prince Without Sorrow, Prince Ashoka’s story isn’t necessarily the same as his real-life inspiration (the novel isn’t historical in the slightest), but there are nods here and there to Emperor Ashoka that I hope those who know of him would appreciate.
Q: The political tensions in The Prince Without Sorrow are striking. How did you develop the politics and the geography of the world?
A: Drawing a map definitely helped! I needed to visualise boundaries/state lines, different kingdoms, to get a sense of how the world would work. Bouncing off ideas with my little brother was super useful too. He’s a very blunt individual with a better understanding of world history than me, so he’d let me know if a proposed idea was stupid or not. The other thing that helped me was the cynical reminder that no politicking was done out of sheer good will. There was always an underlying want from one or both parties.
Q: I love how queer-normative Ashoka’s and Shakti’s world is. To me, this is an extension of that ‘parallel-ness’ between their world and ours, considering how queer-normative Ancient India and Sri Lanka were. It felt restorative and beautiful. Did you always know you wanted your world to look like this?
A: ‘Restorative’ is a lovely way to put it. The process came about naturally because of the characters. The moment Ashoka wandered into my head; I couldn’t see him with anyone other than Rahil. For Shakti, I never saw a romance. She didn’t understand or feel romantic love. For anyone who is expecting a romance arc for her – apologies, but you’ll have to place those expectations firmly aside!
Q: As readers, the stories we read often change us and the ways we see our world. I find that the Prince Without Sorrow made me see deeper into my world, as if through a veil. How did writing this story change you?
A: Writing this story changed my life in ways I didn’t expect. Strangely, I learned patience, accepting the often slow and laborious journey of starting and finishing a novel. Not giving up on the characters that stay in your head and push for their stories to be told (I used to never finish the novels I started in high school). The Prince Without Sorrow got me agented and published. I’m now a debut author because of it. It was an unexpected but welcome change, and I’m so grateful for it.
Q: Congratulations on a stunning debut. I’m excited to know that the story won’t end here! How do you feel about letting the world in on your creation and what are the intentions you are carrying into your writing in the future?
A: There’s always a little trepidation at the start, I think. For a writer, their characters are their babies, so you do feel a little cut when they’re scrutinised. However, I’ve learned to push this feeling aside, and my day job as a dentist definitely helps! I hope to continue creating characters that readers can fall in love and resonate with.