...and the Anna-fication of a literature festival
Narendra Modi realised that all his efforts for the Sadbhavna mission fast were not going as great as expected. He had planned it meticulously, but he chose the wrong venue. Godhra. Wrong timing: a month before 10th anniversary of the train burning. No mention of the riots. He wants Muslims to forget that. He wants to mend fences. Nice guy.
This was about peace and harmony. 1600 cops and 5 specially-trained Chetak commandos and unarmed jawans guarding the place. Peace? Peace is based on trust, and he says that there have been no riots. So, what is he afraid of? I get it. He is afraid of Salman Rushdie. What if that bloke who is not permitted to visit the Jaipur Literature Festival decides to land in Gujarat? After all, Narendra bhai has been promoting it as the wonderful Disneyland where you may scream in terror as long as you can afford the rides. Modi likes Rushdie. He does not know why, but maybe it’s the old if A=B and B=C, then A=C.
“But, saab,” said his favourite police officer who was transferred for giving signals for an encounter killing, but had now undergone cosmetic surgery and was back at duty, “We took down posters, we threw out artists…”
“Bhai, jo, that is different. We are the establishment. Establishment has right to protect minorities.”
“Er…we are the majority.”
“That’s okay. I am not counting. We must feel like the minority.”
“So, what to do now, sir?”
“Bring me that book. I have many copies in that underground place where I keep all those files about 2002.”
“The book is banned in India.”
“We are not India. I mean, Gujarat has 5 crore people, so we are India within India.”
“This could cause communal enmity, saab.”
Modi guffaws. “This is the land of communal enmity. If you add tadka to cooking oil it will splutter but you get good food. Go, get me a copy. Cover it with green cloth.”
The man leaves hurriedly. A few mullahs come and shake hands with Modi. He says, “You are late.”
“We went to buy you a special edition of the Quran to promote this wonderful multicultural system you started.”
“Time is over for peace.”
“You are insulting Islam by not accepting a copy. Last time you did not accept skull cap.”
“You people’s sentiments get hurt all the time. But you cannot reach on time. I had arranged for your bath here.”
“Kya?”
“For your namaaz, I made arrangements for you.”
“Wazoo…it is called wazoo.”
“Don’t try and convert me.”
“We are only informing you.”
“Why you did not inform me about Godhra train?”
There is silence.
“Okay,” Modi continued. “If you want harmony, go and sit quietly.”
His officer brings him a copy of the Rushdie book.
The mullahs smile when they see the green cover. “Subhan Allah! You are our supreme leader. We knew you had a surprise for us. We will pass a fatwa against anyone who does not vote for you.”
Modi whispers in his officer’s ear, “How did they know I am trying to conduct a counter election campaign to get some mileage because everyone is talking about UP?”
“The Deoband must have informed them.”
“This is same group that does not want Rushdie, na? Now see how papers will be full of Gujarat.”
He opens the book and starts reading. The group says, “Wah, wah” in unison.
Modi is confused. “You know what I am reading?”
“Ji haan. You have a sense of humour. You are reading Gulliver’s Travels.”
“What is that?”
“In the madrassa some boys have copies, they told us about how he lands in place where tiny people are and they tie him up.”
“So, why are you smiling? Now where is your Islam? It does not get insulted if book is covered in green?”
“The grass is also green and we walk on it, Khomeini saab.”
“I am not Khomeini,” Modi says disgustedly.
“Uff, mistake. Please continue reading, we are your prajaa, the little people.”
The CM shifts uncomfortably. The thought that he would be tied up by these little people worries him.
“How did these illiterates start reading books?” he asks his assistant.
“Because of Rushdie.”
“Does it mean if I read this book, I will become Muslim?”
“Saab, anything is possible. But don’t say this loudly. They will call it Islamophobia.”
“Take this away.” He returns the copy of The Satanic Verses. “Bring me some other book. These Muslims like stories. Even for peace mission, they want stories. It is always about god.”
The officer gets an idea. “I will get The God of Small Things.”
Modi shakes his head. “What things? These minorities will start thinking their god is the best again.”
“This is not about god.” The officer mentions the writer’s name.
“Arre, the same one who went jogging with comrades in Cuba?”
“Not jogging, only walking. Not Cuba, in India with Maoists.”
“Then send copy to Chidambaram.”
“What do get for you now?”
“Aladdin and the Magic Lamp. Muslims like fairytales. They think by rubbing a lamp, a genie will appear. They forget this is idol worship.”
“I cannot get it, sir.”
“Why? Is it banned?”
“No, your copy has disappeared.”
“How?”
“Sanjiv Bhat took it as evidence that you were plotting against minorities.”
“What happens to my freedom of expression?” This time he asks aloud.
The audience looks wide-eyed.
“Say something.”
“We thought you are reading from the book.”
“No. I want to know. Why can I not express myself however I want?”
The crowd starts to leave. He calls out to them.
A small voice says, “How can ashes answer what freedom the fire must have?”
Reports say that today, the opening day of the Jaipur Literature Festival, some writers read out excerpts from The Satanic Verses, since Salman Rushdie is not allowed. This personality cult is seen as protest.
Was Rushdie going to read out from the book? A bunch of huddled up elites in their cocoon thinks this is freedom of expression. Would they have permitted Modi to read, had he written a book? Who are they catering to? A small group, and that includes the media, that knows precious little about such expression, that muzzles dissenting voices, that sells its space without ethics for ad revenue, that pushes political agendas, that also pushes religious ideas; this applies to publications in regional languages as well. It is, however, the English-language media that plays god. We have discussed this already in Salman's Atheist Shrine.
These interests sponsor the JLF and grabbing eyeballs is part of the strategy of making it commercially viable. If they have some enthusiastic pseudo martyrs, they will benefit. Incidentally, Taslima Nasreen and Arundhati Roy, both ‘victims’, have not been vocal about this. Taslima had a fight with Rushdie about Twitter followers and his misogyny. Roy has got to guard her Muslim constituency. Everyone is on their own trip.
This reminds me of Team Anna and the singing-dancing brigade exercising their freedom. Rushdie had attended the previous festivals, so cut it out. If it is so important, then I would like to know why the writers have not sent a petition to the government asking it in clear terms to arrest those who issued threats. Do that. Exercise your freedom, instead of sticking out your tongue.
The festival is already overcrowded. If this were a movie, it would have been all about buttered popcorn.
(c) Farzana Versey
- - -
Similar posts:
Why Modi refused spandex tights
Modi’s fast ‘unto’ death: Gujarat’s shame
Narendra Modi realised that all his efforts for the Sadbhavna mission fast were not going as great as expected. He had planned it meticulously, but he chose the wrong venue. Godhra. Wrong timing: a month before 10th anniversary of the train burning. No mention of the riots. He wants Muslims to forget that. He wants to mend fences. Nice guy.
This was about peace and harmony. 1600 cops and 5 specially-trained Chetak commandos and unarmed jawans guarding the place. Peace? Peace is based on trust, and he says that there have been no riots. So, what is he afraid of? I get it. He is afraid of Salman Rushdie. What if that bloke who is not permitted to visit the Jaipur Literature Festival decides to land in Gujarat? After all, Narendra bhai has been promoting it as the wonderful Disneyland where you may scream in terror as long as you can afford the rides. Modi likes Rushdie. He does not know why, but maybe it’s the old if A=B and B=C, then A=C.
Yet, for all his liking, he did not want to spoil the Jumma party. He waited and waited for some real Muslims to pay their respects. Finally, he just gave up. Peace can go take a long walk. He asked his men to get a copy of The Satanic Verses. He was going to protest against these Muslims. Those Deoband guys who did not treat his progressive Gujarati fellow nicely when he was made Vice Chancellor and that SIMI is really awful going after poor Salman. No one cares for freedom of expression.
“But, saab,” said his favourite police officer who was transferred for giving signals for an encounter killing, but had now undergone cosmetic surgery and was back at duty, “We took down posters, we threw out artists…”
“Bhai, jo, that is different. We are the establishment. Establishment has right to protect minorities.”
“Er…we are the majority.”
“That’s okay. I am not counting. We must feel like the minority.”
“So, what to do now, sir?”
“Bring me that book. I have many copies in that underground place where I keep all those files about 2002.”
“The book is banned in India.”
“We are not India. I mean, Gujarat has 5 crore people, so we are India within India.”
“This could cause communal enmity, saab.”
Modi guffaws. “This is the land of communal enmity. If you add tadka to cooking oil it will splutter but you get good food. Go, get me a copy. Cover it with green cloth.”
The man leaves hurriedly. A few mullahs come and shake hands with Modi. He says, “You are late.”
“We went to buy you a special edition of the Quran to promote this wonderful multicultural system you started.”
“Time is over for peace.”
“You are insulting Islam by not accepting a copy. Last time you did not accept skull cap.”
“You people’s sentiments get hurt all the time. But you cannot reach on time. I had arranged for your bath here.”
“Kya?”
“For your namaaz, I made arrangements for you.”
“Wazoo…it is called wazoo.”
“Don’t try and convert me.”
“We are only informing you.”
“Why you did not inform me about Godhra train?”
There is silence.
“Okay,” Modi continued. “If you want harmony, go and sit quietly.”
His officer brings him a copy of the Rushdie book.
The mullahs smile when they see the green cover. “Subhan Allah! You are our supreme leader. We knew you had a surprise for us. We will pass a fatwa against anyone who does not vote for you.”
Modi whispers in his officer’s ear, “How did they know I am trying to conduct a counter election campaign to get some mileage because everyone is talking about UP?”
“The Deoband must have informed them.”
“This is same group that does not want Rushdie, na? Now see how papers will be full of Gujarat.”
He opens the book and starts reading. The group says, “Wah, wah” in unison.
Modi is confused. “You know what I am reading?”
“Ji haan. You have a sense of humour. You are reading Gulliver’s Travels.”
“What is that?”
“In the madrassa some boys have copies, they told us about how he lands in place where tiny people are and they tie him up.”
“So, why are you smiling? Now where is your Islam? It does not get insulted if book is covered in green?”
“The grass is also green and we walk on it, Khomeini saab.”
“I am not Khomeini,” Modi says disgustedly.
“Uff, mistake. Please continue reading, we are your prajaa, the little people.”
The CM shifts uncomfortably. The thought that he would be tied up by these little people worries him.
“How did these illiterates start reading books?” he asks his assistant.
“Because of Rushdie.”
“Does it mean if I read this book, I will become Muslim?”
“Saab, anything is possible. But don’t say this loudly. They will call it Islamophobia.”
“Take this away.” He returns the copy of The Satanic Verses. “Bring me some other book. These Muslims like stories. Even for peace mission, they want stories. It is always about god.”
The officer gets an idea. “I will get The God of Small Things.”
Modi shakes his head. “What things? These minorities will start thinking their god is the best again.”
“This is not about god.” The officer mentions the writer’s name.
“Arre, the same one who went jogging with comrades in Cuba?”
“Not jogging, only walking. Not Cuba, in India with Maoists.”
“Then send copy to Chidambaram.”
“What do get for you now?”
“Aladdin and the Magic Lamp. Muslims like fairytales. They think by rubbing a lamp, a genie will appear. They forget this is idol worship.”
“I cannot get it, sir.”
“Why? Is it banned?”
“No, your copy has disappeared.”
“How?”
“Sanjiv Bhat took it as evidence that you were plotting against minorities.”
“What happens to my freedom of expression?” This time he asks aloud.
The audience looks wide-eyed.
“Say something.”
“We thought you are reading from the book.”
“No. I want to know. Why can I not express myself however I want?”
The crowd starts to leave. He calls out to them.
A small voice says, “How can ashes answer what freedom the fire must have?”
- - -
Reports say that today, the opening day of the Jaipur Literature Festival, some writers read out excerpts from The Satanic Verses, since Salman Rushdie is not allowed. This personality cult is seen as protest.
Was Rushdie going to read out from the book? A bunch of huddled up elites in their cocoon thinks this is freedom of expression. Would they have permitted Modi to read, had he written a book? Who are they catering to? A small group, and that includes the media, that knows precious little about such expression, that muzzles dissenting voices, that sells its space without ethics for ad revenue, that pushes political agendas, that also pushes religious ideas; this applies to publications in regional languages as well. It is, however, the English-language media that plays god. We have discussed this already in Salman's Atheist Shrine.
These interests sponsor the JLF and grabbing eyeballs is part of the strategy of making it commercially viable. If they have some enthusiastic pseudo martyrs, they will benefit. Incidentally, Taslima Nasreen and Arundhati Roy, both ‘victims’, have not been vocal about this. Taslima had a fight with Rushdie about Twitter followers and his misogyny. Roy has got to guard her Muslim constituency. Everyone is on their own trip.
This reminds me of Team Anna and the singing-dancing brigade exercising their freedom. Rushdie had attended the previous festivals, so cut it out. If it is so important, then I would like to know why the writers have not sent a petition to the government asking it in clear terms to arrest those who issued threats. Do that. Exercise your freedom, instead of sticking out your tongue.
The festival is already overcrowded. If this were a movie, it would have been all about buttered popcorn.
(c) Farzana Versey
- - -
Similar posts:
Why Modi refused spandex tights
Modi’s fast ‘unto’ death: Gujarat’s shame
