Big Book of Malice

by Khushwant Singh

  10 January 1998

  Why Indian Muslims don’t count

  Despite India having the second largest population of Muslims in the world—larger than in Pakistan or all the Arab countries put together—Pakistan has successfully kept Indian Muslims out of international Muslim organizations. And despite India’s active support to the Palestinian cause against Israel, whenever the Kashmir issue comes up in international fora, Muslim countries follow the dictates of Pakistan and vote against India. It is a sad commentary on our foreign policy. Or is it that though Muslim countries are often at loggerheads with each other, whenever one is confronted with a non-Muslim country like India, Israel or Greece, they close ranks and, regardless of the merits of the dispute, act in unison against them?

  It can be statistically established that Muslims have shed more Muslim blood fighting each other than non-Muslims have in their wars against Muslim countries. In recent times, Iraq waged an eight-year war against Iran and annexed Kuwait for a short time. It could be established that Saddam Hussein of Iraq has killed more Muslims than anyone in the history of the world. Nevertheless, he remains ‘hero number one’ of the Muslim world. In Afghanistan, a seemingly endless civil war has been raging for ten years. The Taliban who claim to represent true Islamic values are backward-looking bigots and have brought disgrace to the fair name of Islam. The only country openly supporting them is Pakistan.

  We have to understand the dilemmas and contradictions of the Islamic world before secular India and her Muslims can decide how to cope with their predicament.

  17 January 1998

  Gandhi vs Godse

  In a few days it will be the fiftieth anniversary of Bapu Gandhi’s assassination. Three bullets fired by Nathuram Godse on January 30, 1948 ended his life. It should be borne in mind that before opening fire, Godse touched Bapu’s feet to ask for his forgiveness for what he was about to do—even he recognized the fact that his victim was no ordinary mortal but a Mahatma: a great soul venerated throughout the world. Godse had no personal grievance against him but felt that what the Mahatma stood for had done harm to the country and he should therefore be eliminated. He had no fear that he would have to pay the price for his deed with his own life (which he did when he was hanged to death).

  On January 30, we will hear a lot of platitudes about the relevance of Mahatma Gandhi’s teachings. A lot of lip-worship will be paid to him and flowers will be strewn on his samadhi to the chanting of his favourite hymns ‘Vaishnav jan to tainey kahiye’ and ‘Raghupati Raaghav Raja Ram’. But when we search our souls, we will be forced to admit that little or nothing of the Gandhi legacy remains with us. We started frittering it away the day after he was killed, and have continued to do so ever since. When we allowed the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya to be reduced to rubble, we finally buried Gandhi’s ashes as well. As Gandhi’s star dipped into the Indian Ocean, Godse’s star rose in the Indian skies.

  Is there any hope of resurrecting Gandhi’s legacy? I have been pondering over this question for many days, because despite being an iconoclast, an agnostic and a drinking man who rejects a lot of Bapu’s ideas on religion, prohibition, celibacy and nature cure, I call myself a Gandhian. I have come to the conclusion that another Kurukshetra will be fought in the general elections due in another few weeks, between the remnants of Gandhism on the one side ranged against Godseism on the other. At first sight, my analysis of the issues involved at the elections may appear naive and simplistic to you, but ponder over it and you may come round to my point of view.

  Do not go by what leaders of different political parties say. When it comes to Gandhism versus Godseism, all of them will profess to be on the side of Gandhism (I exclude the Communists from this dispute because they have always kept aloof from this particular issue). As I see it, the Sangh Parivar are upholders of Godseism; those ranged against it, however poor their track record in this context, are for Gandhism. If the Sangh Parivar prevail, we may as well forget that we ever had a Gandhi in our midst. If the parties aligned against the Parivar carry the polls, we may still be able to revive the Gandhi we murdered fifty years ago.

  24 January 1998

  A forgetful nation

  ‘There were no villages in pre-Partition India where Muslims and Sikhs lived like brothers. Did you ever see one or did you make one up to fit into the theme of your story?’

  This was the first question shot at me. The second was, ‘Is it true that during the partition killings of the summer of 1947, trainloads of corpses were sent across the Indo-Pakistan border? Or is it a figment of your imagination which you used to fit into the theme of your story?’

  For good measure, a third man described my novel Train to Pakistan as ‘no more than a political thriller.’

  The question-and-answer session took place at a press conference the day following the screening of the film adaptation of Train to Pakistan (directed by Pamela Rooks) at the International Film Festival at Siri Fort. The auditorium was packed to overflowing. Many in the audience who had lived through the partition were in tears. Those who had only heard about the horrors from their parents seemed unconvinced that such things could indeed have taken place.

  I found the reaction of the audience heart-warming. What depressed me were the questions put to me by journalists whom I expected to be better informed. Have we already forgotten the price that both India and Pakistan had to pay for our Independence, in loss of lives and suffering?

  The Jews the world over have never let anyone forget what Adolf Hitler and his Nazis did to them during World War II. Hundreds of books have been written on the subject; dozens of films have been made depicting the Holocaust. Prison camps where Jews were shot or gassed to death have become places of pilgrimage. There are museums in Germany and Israel that display relics of Nazi brutalities against Jews. But we Indians and Pakistanis have chosen to forget what we did to each other to gain our freedom. We have no museums, no memorials to commemorate what was undoubtedly one of the greatest tragedies in recorded history. The uprooting of ten million people from their homes, the loss of one million lives, rape and abduction of thousands of women have all been swept under the carpet of oblivion. In sheer magnitude what Chenghis Khan, Ghazni, Nadir Shah and Abdali put together did not do, we did within a period of three months.

  Should the partition be remembered? Has it any relevance to us today? My answer to both questions is an emphatic ‘yes’. We must not forget that the partition did in fact happen and can happen again. That is why I keep reminding people who clamour for an independent Kashmir, Khalistan or Nagaland to remember what happened to Muslims when some of them asked for a separate Muslims state. I keep telling my fellow Sikhs that the worst enemies of the Khalsa Panth are Khalistanis, and of the Nagas, those who ask for an independent Nagaland. Reminding ourselves of what happened in 1947 and realizing the possibilities of the events recurring, we should resolve that we will never let history repeat itself.

  31 January 1998

  Fingers on the pulse

  Delhi once had a nabeena (blind) hakeem sahib who diagnosed his patients’ ailments by simply feeling their pulses. It is assumed that we journalists also have our fingers on the pulse of the nation and decipher which way and in what strength its blood is flowing. Evidently we do not have the skills of the blind healer of Delhi, as we seem to have gone grievously wrong in our assessment of Sonia Gandhi. Her entry into active politics took all of us by surprise. We then proceeded to underrate her impact on the people. She is evidently drawing larger crowds than any other political leader. We still hold that people who throng to her meetings come out of sheer curiosity, they are tamashaees, idle spectators; and they should not be counted as voters for the Congress party. We may again be proved wrong.

  What we of the Indian media failed to take into account is the innate respect the masses have for ruling families. Starting with Kashmir, we have the Abdullahs—Shaikh Sahib, Farooq and now his son. Himachal Pradesh: Virbhadra Singh, a princeling and his Rani Sahiba. Punjab:
Parkash Singh Badal, a rich zamindar and his extended clan of land-owning Jats. Haryana: Devi Lal, Bansi Lal and Bhajan Lal, their sons, nephews and grandsons. Uttar Pradesh: Kumaon Brahmins—Pandes, Pants and Joshis, Sanjay Singh of Amethi, Dinesh Singh’s wife and relations. Bihar: the upstart leader Laloo, his wife Rabri Devi and her brothers. Orissa: the Patnaiks. Madhya Pradesh: Digvijay Singh (big zamindar), Madhavrao Scindia of Gwalior and the Shukla brothers. Maharashtra: Bal Thackeray, his son and nephew.

  The southern states have spawned a new breed of leaders who have graduated from film studios to Vidhan Sabhas and Parliament. In Tamil Nadu we had M.G. Ramachandran and now his protégé Jayalalitha. In Andhra Pradesh: N.T. Rama Rao, his widow and his son-in-law Chandrababu Naidu. The pattern is roughly the same: one man makes a power base and rises to leadership; his kith and kin ride piggyback on him to ascend the political ladder. What is more incredible is that the common Indian thinks that this is as it ought to be. So one should not be surprised with the impact Sonia Gandhi has made since she discarded the veil. The boat of the Sangh Parivar riding high on the crest of the wave of popularity may very well flounder on the rock of the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty.

  14 February 1998

  Politics divorced from morality

  Politics and morality do not go together. This is the first lesson that our recent elections have once again made abundantly clear. Every single person known to me who was in the fray told me the same things: those who lost said they had been betrayed by their partymen and were beaten not by their opponents but by people who swore to help them. If this is true, as it seems to be, we cannot help but come to the conclusion that we have become a nation of face-flatterers and back-stabbers.

  Another equally distressing conclusion is that we no longer look upon corruption as grounds for disqualification when it comes to holding political posts. Or perhaps we no longer believe that a person charged with corruption is in fact guilty—unless he is convicted by a court of law. And since our courts of law are never in a hurry to pronounce judgements, those charged with crimes enter electoral frays, as if they had done nothing wrong. And more often than not, they win. So we have Jayalalitha staging a spectacular comeback, Sukh Ram demolishing the Congress party in Himachal Pradesh, Laloo Prasad Yadav cocking a snook at his denigrators, and Balram Jakhar, Buta Singh and Sanjay Singh returning to the Lok Sabha.

  Party-hopping is no longer regarded as an act leading to expulsion; it is no longer even frowned upon. Uttar Pradesh MLAs set the example with a sizeable chunk of Mayawati’s supporters going over en bloc to Kalyan Singh. Of them, the most distinguished party-hopper, Naresh Aggarwal, made three hops in one week. Dr Subramaniam Swamy’s switching over from being the prime accuser and persecutor of Jayalalitha, to swearing fealty to her and becoming her candidate as finance minister left me breathless with surprise. As did Kumaramangalam junior who, like his father, was an ardent socialist a few years ago, and is today an equally ardent Bhajpaite.

  Less fortunate was a very young friend, Mani Shankar Aiyar. He built his political career riding on the shoulders of Rajiv Gandhi. He continued his close association with the erstwhile first family headed by Sonia Gandhi and the Congress. When he saw the Congress ship skippered by Sitaram Kesri going down, he quit the Congress and sought the patronage of Jayalalitha. When that failed, he tried Mamata Banerjee and Subhas Ghising. When he found no takers, he fought the elections as an independent candidate and lost. He is now back with the Congress.

  The same fate befell Suresh Kalmadi. From a passionate critic of the Congress, he turned into a Congress supporter, becoming a protégé of Sharad Pawar who always stayed with Kalmadi when he was in Delhi. Kalmadi ditched his mentor, fought the elections independently against the Congress and was humbled.

  To me, the most distressing feature of the recent elections was the resurgence in belief in astrology, horoscopes and other unscientific methods of forecasting the future. I cannot understand how otherwise highly intelligent people can subscribe to this kind of hocus-pocus which has time and again proved to be just that. The list of eminent Indians who swear by the configuration of planets makes impressive reading.

  There is Narasimha Rao who consults his jyotishi to fix even the time and date for the release of his book. Jayalalitha, Subramaniam Swamy and Dr Karan Singh have the assurances of their horoscopes that they will become prime ministers of India. Jakhar and Buta Singh also believe in the occult. The latest is BJP leaders succumbing to the prediction that ill-luck has dodged them because, according to vaastu shastra, the entrance gate of their office faces the wrong direction. So Murli Manohar Joshi and K.B. Malkani had it shut and another one opened on the side.

  Thus, the recent elections have proved that we have not only expunged morality from our politics, we are also declining into mental sickness. We are getting onto the back of the donkey of irrational superstition hoping to ride into the twenty-first century.

  I am reminded of a shloka in the Atharva

  Veda:

  Triya Charitram

  Manushya Bhagyam

  Devo na Jaanati

  (Of the character of a woman

  And the fate of a man

  Even the gods are ignorant.)

  28 March 1998

  The inimitable R.K. Laxman

  Long before I got to know him, I had sensed that Laxman had a touch of the genius. I had sent a story, ‘Man, How does the Government of India Run?’ to the then editor of The Illustrated Weekly of India, C.R. Mandy. He sent the story to Laxman for a suitable illustration. Without ever having seen me or my photograph, Laxman drew a caricature of a Sikh clerk (who was the main character of my story) and it bore a startling resemblance to me.

  By then he had established the reputation of being India’s best cartoonist and most people took The Times of India because of his front-page cartoons and its last-page crossword puzzle. The rest of the paper was like any other national daily. And however distinguished its editors, few people bothered with the contents of its edit page.

  I knew Laxman was the youngest of R.K. Narayan’s six brothers. His illustrations of his brother’s short stories put life into the narrative and highlighted the fact that they were Tamil Brahmins settled in Mysore. We struck up a close friendship almost from the first day I took up the editorship of The Illustrated Weekly of India. I told him that in my opinion he was the world’s greatest cartoonist. I meant it because I had lived in England, the USA and France for many years and seen the works of cartoonists there. Laxman did not protest: he evidently agreed with my assessment of his worth. Almost every other morning he came to my room and asked me to order coffee for him. He never bothered to ask me if I was busy. Far from resenting his dropping in unannounced, I looked forward to the gossip sessions. However, while he thought nothing of wasting my time every other morning, he never allowed anyone to enter his cabin while he was at work.

  Laxman was as witty a raconteur of people’s foibles as he was adept in sketching them on paper. I discovered that he was a bit of a snob and did not deign to talk to the junior staff. My son Rahul once told me that he had run into Laxman at a cinema. When Laxman discovered that Rahul was not in the most expensive seats, he ticked him off.

  He was a great socialiser and could be seen at cocktail parties of consulates, the rich and the famous. He loved driving through congested streets and gladly accepted my invitations for drinks, driving all the way from Malabar Hills where he lived, to Colaba, five miles away from my flat. Unlike his brother who was abstemious, Laxman loved his Scotch. It had to be of premium quality. However, he never returned the hospitality. Other characteristics I noticed about him which he shared with his brother was an exaggerated respect for money. R.K. Narayan was the doyen of Indian authors. He drove a hard bargain.

  Once when AIR invited ten of India’s top authors to talk about their work and offered what seemed to be more than adequate fees, Narayan accepted only on the condition that he be given at least one rupee more than the others. Likewise, Laxman
and I were asked by Manjushri Khaitan of the B.K. Birla family to produce commemoration volumes on Calcutta’s 300th anniversary. We were given five-star accommodation. I accepted whatever Manjushri offered me for writing the text. Laxman demanded and got, twice as much. His cartoons sold many more copies than my book did.

  Underneath the façade of modesty, both Narayan and Laxman conceal enormous amounts of self-esteem and inflated egos. Once again I have to concede that neither has anything to be modest about. They are at the top in their respective fields.

  5 September 1998

  Kakar’s Ascetic of Desire

  The silliest and most unscientific book on sex that I have ever read is Vatsayana’s Kamasutra. There is no basis whatsoever for his having divided men and women into categories according to the size of their genitals. Vatsayana’s categorization of males into hares, horses and bulls, and women into gazelles, mares and elephants which was basic to his analysis of the man-woman physical relationship, is entirely arbitrary. So is his penchant for enumerating just about every action that brought men and women closer to each other. For him, the number 64 has some kind of mystical significance. Following Manu, he listed transgressions of the caste code by the four varnas to a total of sixty-four. How seriously can anyone accept this kind of treatise today? The Kamasutra is not even good pornography; it is downright silly and often hilarious. The one thing that can be said in its favour is that it was compiled sometime around the fourth century AD during the so-called Golden Age of the Gupta Empire, and gives the reader some idea of the free and open society of those times. It was also the time when erotic sculpture and painting flourished in different parts of the country.