Meanwhile, more important problems which have been put on the back-burner for too long because of our preoccupations with our neighbour, internecine political wranglings and frequent elections, must be brought to the forefront. For the hundredth time, I repeat: ‘Please Mr or Mrs Prime Minister-to-be, make family planning compulsory, make felling trees and fouling the environment crimes punishable by heavy fines and imprisonment. Otherwise you will be held guilty of letting down our country.’
The one and only Nirad Babu
‘There is nothing more dreadful to an author than neglect, compared with which reproach, hatred and opposition are names of happiness.’ These words of Dr Johnson were inscribed by Nirad Chaudhuri on my copy of his book, A Passage to England. These words hold the key to Nirad’s past life and present personality. They explain the years of neglect of one who must have at all times been a most remarkable man; his attempt to attract attention by cocking-the-snook at people who had neglected him; and the ‘reproach, hatred and opposition’ that he succeeded in arousing as a result of his rudeness.
Nirad had been writing in Bengali for many years. But it was not until the publication of his first book in English, The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian, that he really aroused the interest of the class to which he belonged and which, because of the years of indifference to him, he had come heartily to loathe—the Anglicized upper-middle class of India. He did this with calculated contempt. He knew that the wogs were more English than Indian, but were fond of proclaiming their patriotism at the expense of the British. That having lost their own traditions and not having fully imbibed those of England, they were a breed with pretensions to intellectualism that seldom went beyond reading the blurbs and reviews of books.
He therefore decided to dedicate the work ‘To the British Empire…’ The wogs took the bait, and having only read the dedication, sent up a howl of protest. Many people who would not have otherwise read the autobiography, discovered to their surprise that there was nothing anti-Indian in its pages. On the contrary, it was the most beautiful picture of eastern Bengal that anyone had ever painted. And at long last, India had produced a writer who did not cash in on naïve Indianisms but could write the English language as it should be written—and as few, if any, living Englishmen could write.
Nobody could afford to ignore Nirad Chaudhuri any more. He and his wife Amiya became the most sought-after couple in Delhi’s upper-class circles. Anecdotes of his vast fund of knowledge were favourite topics at dinner parties.
The first story I heard of the Chaudhuri family was of a cocktail party hosted by the late Director-General of All India Radio, Colonel Lakshmanan. Nirad had brought his wife and sons (in shorts and full boots) to the function. After the introductions, the host asked what Nirad would like to drink, and mentioned that he had some excellent sherry.
‘What kind of sherry?’ asked the chief guest. Colonel Lakshmanan had, like most people, heard of only two kinds. ‘Both kinds,’ he replied. ‘Do you like dry or sweet?’ This wasn’t good enough for Nirad, so he asked one of his sonsto taste it and tell him. The thirteen-year-old lad took a sip, rolled it about his tongue, and after a thoughtful pause replied, ‘Must be an Oloroso 1947.’
Nirad Babu could talk about any subject under the sun. There was not a bird, tree, butterfly or insect whose name he did not know in Latin, Sanskrit, Hindi and Bengali. Long before he left for London, he not only knew where the important monuments and museums were, but also the location of many famous restaurants. I heard him contradict a lady who had lived six years in Rome about the name of a street leading off from the coliseum—and prove his contention. I’ve heard him discuss stars with astronomers, recite lines from an obscure fifteenth century French literature and advise a wine dealer on the best vintages from Burgundy. At a small function in honour of Laxness, the Icelandic winner of the Nobel Prize for literature, I heard Nirad lecture him on Icelandic literature.
Nirad was a small, frail man, little over five feet. He led a double life. At home he dressed in dhoti-kurta and sat on the floor to do his reading and writing. When leaving for work, he wore European dress: coat, tie, trousers and a monstrous khaki sola topi. As soon as he stepped out, street urchins would chant ‘Johnnie Walker, left, right, left, right.’
Nirad Babu was not a modest man; he had great reason to be immodest. No Indian, living or dead, wrote the English language as well as he did. He was also a very angry man. When he was dismissed from service by a singularly half-baked I&B minister, Dr B.V. Keskar, he exploded with wrath. Years later, the Government of India wanted him to do a definitive booklet on the plight of the Hindu minority in East Pakistan and offered him a blank cheque for his services. Nirad, who was in dire financial straits, turned it down with contempt. ‘The Government may have lifted its ban on Nirad Chaudhuri, but Nirad Chaudhuri has not lifted his ban on the Government of India,’ he said to me when I conveyed Finance Minister T.T. Krishnamachari’s proposal to him.
Chaudhari’s second book, A Passage to England, received the most glorious reviews in the English press. Three editions were rapidly sold out and it had the distinction of becoming the first book by an Indian author to have become a bestseller in England. The bay windows of London’s famous bookshop, Foyl’s, were decorated with large-sized photographs of Nirad. Some Indian critics were, as in the past, extremely hostile. Nirad’s reaction followed the same pattern. At first he tried not to be bothered by people ‘who didn’t know better’, then burst with invective against the ‘yapping curs’. I asked him how he reconciled himself to these two attitudes. After a pause he replied, ‘When people say nasty things about my books without really understanding what I have written, I feel like a father who sees a drunkard make an obscene pass at his daughter. I want to chastise him.’ Then, with a typically Bengali gesture demonstrating the form of chastisement, ‘I want to give them a shoe-beating with my chappal.’
A few years ago Nirad Babu wrote an article for a prestigious London weekly in which he mentioned how hard he was finding life in Oxford, living on his royalties from books. I published extracts from it in my column. K.K. Birla wrote to me to tell Nirad Babu that he would be happy to give him a stipend for life for any amount in any currency he wanted. I forwarded Birla’s letter to Nirad. He wrote back asking me to thank Birla for his generous offer, but refused to accept it. It is a pity that he accepted a CBE (Commander of the British Empire) from the British Government. He deserved a peerage, because he was in fact, a peerless man of intellect and letters.
14 August 1999
And now, the verdict
At election time, aspiring candidates make tall claims about their achievements. Their party spokesmen speak in even louder languages reminiscent of all-in wrestlers as they strut about the ring. Braying and bragging comes down to a lower pitch when votes are cast. Then we await the verdict of the electorate with bated breath. Thereafter, it is victory processions for the victorious; post-mortems for the vanquished—all blaming their closest party members for stabbing them in the back. This has become the familiar pattern of our elections.
However, no matter what the outcome, there will be a decisive change in India’s political scene. If the BJP and its allies manage to come out on top, they will have to rein in the extremist Hindu fundamentalists in their ranks. There should be no more talk of breaking mosques and building mandirs on their ruins. There should be no more talk of depriving Kashmir of its special status, or meddling with Muslim personal law. If they do, they will have a short lease in office.
The future of the Congress is more difficult to forecast. If Sonia Gandhi wins both her seats, her future as leader of the party and the continuing domination of the Nehru-Gandhi family will be assured for decades to come. If she loses both, it will be the end of her political ambitions, and a serious setback to the aspirations of her family. If she wins one and loses the other, the chances are that leaders of the breakaway group led by Sharad Pawar will reassert its right to control the party’s future. I do not
see the Communists loosening their grip in the states they have ruled, nor the regional parties in the north-east and the southern states diminishing in importance. On the surface, not very much will change.
I approve of the BJP’s intention to introduce legislation which will prevent people from filing nominations in more than one constituency and make the tenure of the Lok Sabha a full period of five years. But I am not sure how they will be able to do so unless they have a decisive majority in both houses of Parliament. This is most unlikely. What they could and can do is to bring the innumerable cases of corruption and inciting violence against political leaders to speedy ends. Crooked politicians have mastered the art of procrastinating proceedings for years. If the new government means to start with a clean image, this should be its top priority.
4 September 1999
Unholy war against India
How seriously should we take Osama bin Laden’s declaration of jehad against the US, Russia and India? The Taliban, though they claim they have nothing to do with Osama, have been carrying on an undeclared jehad against us. They are evidently not concerned with the reactions of non-Muslims whom they have chosen as targets for their jehad, nor of the Muslims who live amongst us. Of course we will not take their threats lying down and give them as good as we get. But how will our Muslim brethren overcome the embarrassment caused to them? Above all, don’t they realize that while posing as jehadis, they do grave disservice to Islam? As it is, a large section of non-Muslims believe that Muslims are fanatics unresponsive to reason and the changing world. Osama and the Taliban confirm this inaccurate and uncharitable view of Islam and the Muslims.
I have always maintained that the worst enemies of any religious community are bigots who assume the role of purveyors (thekedaars) of its religion: they pretend to be all-knowing and are ever eager to take up cudgels. The Sikhs had their Bhindranwale, the Hindus have their Vishwa Hindu Parishad, Shiv Sainiks and Bajrangbalis and Muslims have their Mullahs, Talibans and jehadis. They make life miserable. They are not a new phenomenon. Our forefathers had to suffer the likes of them in their times. Prince Dara Shikoh (1615-54) wrote:
Paradise is where no Mullah resides
May no one pay heed to his fatwas;
In a street where a Mullah resides,
No wise man is ever found.
The history of India would have been different if Dara Shikoh had succeeded Shah Jehan as emperor rather than the bigot Aurangzeb who alienated his non-Muslim subjects and sowed the seeds of destruction of the Mughal dynasty. Likewise, Maharaja Ranjit Singh had harsh things to say about the Akalis: he described them as people with closed minds and lacking in vision. He used them in his battles against the ghazis who declared holy war against his kingdom. They fought with Ranjit’s Muslim militia and repulsed the jehadis.
The Islamic world is going through a period of grave uncertainty. Within their ranks are fundamentalists like the Muslim brotherhood in Egypt and its counterparts in other Islamic countries. They are active in other Islamic countries recently liberated from Soviet domination. And they are trying to create trouble in the Muslim regions in China. It is the duty of Muslims to rid themselves of Bin Laden and the Talibans.
Mumbai’s Star Achievers
In Mumbai more than anywhere else in India, nothing matters more than success. On top of its list of achievers are film stars. They are easy on the eyes, they are rich and make pots of money which elude sleuths of the income tax department. Next come industrialists who make a lot more money than film stars. They are usually pot-bellied and heavy-jowled by the time they become billionaires, and arouse the admiration-cum-envy of their fellow citizens. Musicians, painters and journalists come last in Mumbai’s list of achievers.
This was very evident at the Giants International evening and award-giving ceremony. The organization was set up by Nana Chudasama in 1972. It started giving awards in 1985. This year, the most sought-after by photographers, film cameramen and autograph-hunters, were Juhi Chawla and Salman Khan followed closely by Mukesh Ambani and Mahesh Bhupati. Last came Dr K. Ramamoorthy of Bombay Hospital, Rakhee Sapru of Cancer Patients Aid Association and Varghese Kurien.
Presiding over the function was Field Marshal Sam Maneckshaw. With the years he has become somewhat of a caricature of a Colonel Blimp. He takes credit for winning the war of the liberation of Bangladesh. He speaks very well but does not realize that it ill behoves a man of wisdom to use his tongue in praise of himself. The award-giving function and the dinner that followed, went on till midnight.
The next morning I got talking to my host Tarlochan Singh Sahney about the decline of Bombay from being the best administrated city of India to becoming a heavily congested, chaotic and goonda-ridden metropolis. I told him of Pinki Virani’s book Once Was Bombay in which she puts the blame squarely on three men: M.A. Jinnah for making Bombay Muslims a people apart from Bombay’s non-Muslims, L.K. Advani for his Somnath-Ayodhya rath yatra which led to the demolition of the Babri masjid followed by violence in Bombay, and Bal Thackeray whose Shiv Sainiks played the leading role in destroying the mosque and the slaughter of Bombay Muslims.
‘Does she say nothing about the role of Morarji Desai?’ Tarlochan asked me. I was surprised by his question as I regard Morarji as an honest politician, above communal prejudice, but somewhat narrow in his vision. ‘Morarji Desai,’ explained Tarlochan, ‘introduced prohibition. Immediately, illicit hooch sprang up all over the state with the police in cahoots with the hooch-makers. Then he imposed a ban on gold import. And smuggling gold became a lucrative business. With these measures he created a nexus between law-breakers and law-keepers (the police). Between them they have corrupted the civic life of Mumbai. Then there is the flood of poor peasants from the countryside pouring into the city. We have the world’s largest slums where hundreds of thousands of people survive in sub-human conditions. It is from these slums that a section of our city fathers and MLAs are drawn. What can you expect from them?’
The more I thought over the subject, the more his analysis made sense. ‘What is to be done?’ I asked him. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘Let’s see the results of the elections,’ he said showing me the black dot on his finger to prove he had cast his vote. ‘Perhaps new leaders will emerge who have no links with the underworld and are committed to restoring Mumbai to being the premier city of India.’ Amen!
9 October 1999
Pakistan and us
I watched an interview of General Pervez Musharraf on the BBC. I could not believe my ears when he said more than once that in Kargil, the Pakistani army had achieved every one of its objectives and was totally successful. When he repeated the statement, he added the term mujahideen (holy warriors) to the victors. It sounded very odd because for weeks after the operation began, the spokesperson of the Pakistan government denied the involvement of their army personnel in the adventure and were reluctant to accept the bodies of its soldiers killed in battle. While we claim we drove them out of our territory to the last man, General Musharraf has the cheek to tell the world that Pakistan gained a great victory in Kargil.
Once in Bombay I was invited to a reception given by the Consul General of Pakistan. Talking to some guests, I discovered the reception was in honour of the anniversary of Pakistan’s victory over India in the 1965 war. I was flabbergasted. In the few weeks the war had lasted, India had occupied large parts of Pak territory and our army was close to the suburbs of Lahore when the agreement to ceasefire was signed.
In the 1971 war for the liberation of Bangladesh, Pakistani media, official and non-official, kept regaling their audiences of the great victories the Pakistani army and Air Force were achieving over us. This went on till Dhaka fell, and the abject surrender of the Pakistani army in what was East Pakistan. I would not be too surprised if after some years, Pakistanis claim that as well, as a glorious victory over India! We may well ask how much trust do the common people of Pakistan repose in the pronouncements of its civilian and military rulers?
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nbsp; The Pakistanis’ attitudes to their rulers and changes of government are different from ours. I was in Pakistan for a few days during the rule of General Ayub Khan. I noticed no resentment against military dictatorship. Nor any great jubilation when his government fell. I was in Pakistan again during the reign of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. I heard a lot of stories of his profligacy, womanizing and discourtesy towards his ministers. No one did more than just gossip. I was also there when he was hanged. There was a demonstration in Rawalpindi led by women in burkhas. On the Friday following his execution, I was in Karachi, Bhutto’s stamping ground. The cinemas were open and mosques were full for the Juma namaaz—it was as if nothing untoward had happened.
I visited Pakistan a couple of times during General Zia-ul Haq’s regime. I found no signs of resentment against the dictator. When he was killed, there was no breast-beating. So it should come as no surprise that no tears were shed on Nawaz Sharif’s dethroning. Nor will there be any when Pervez Musharraf gets the order of the boot on his flabby buttocks.
We Indians are the same kind of people as the Pakistanis, but our experiences of governance have been different. Save for two years of emergency rule, we have never known dictatorship. Even in those years, a large number of people including George Fernandes, Viren Shah and others carried on underground anti-government activity. The Akalis organized satyagraha and sent thousands of passive resisters to jail. Despite the assassinations of two prime ministers, we were able to install successive governments peacefully. However tempting it may be to exult over Pakistan’s immaturity and pat our backs for having attained adult status, we must guard against complacency. Our enemies are within us: religious intolerance, lack of respect for the law, too much talk and too little action.
Big Book of Malice Page 14