Freedom of expression in our country gets curbed every passing day. From political leaders to tetchy individuals and groups, everybody can claim that some movie, song, or book “hurts their sentiments’.
Idolatry scales new peaks every day in India. Every icon—artistic, cricketing, political—becomes an idol; and every idol, as per the imperative of public discourse, must be worshipped. Less than that attracts penalty. Naseeruddin Shah is paying one for being less than a bhakta of Dilip Kumar, though he did express his admiration for the late actor.
In an opinion piece in Indian Express after Kumar’s death, Naseeruddin Shah wrote, “Some of those works doubtless will survive the test of time but, given the position he was in, it is more than evident he didn’t do enough apart from acting and being involved in social causes close to his heart. He produced only one film, didn’t direct any (officially at least), never passed on the benefit of his experience, didn’t bother to groom anyone, and apart from his pre-1970s performances, left behind no significant lessons for future actors; even his autobiography is but a rehash of old interviews.”
If one scrutinizes this statement, one would notice that this is more of a factual narration than a viewpoint. But such is the perversity of the public discourse, one of whose underpinnings is bhakti, that even the mention of less laudatory facts about an idol is regarded as blasphemous.
To be sure, Shah’s praise for Kumar was in superlative terms: “the consummate characterisations, the dignified deportment, the mellifluous diction, the controlled but roiling emotionality in his performances were all unique… His mesmeric stillness and impeccable poise established a paradigm for good acting in Indian films, when fake theatricality, arch voice-intonations, clenched jaw muscles, quivering lips, caterpillar eyebrows and, of course, constantly wagging hands were the accepted modes of expression.”
This, however, was not found enough by the idolaters—or, to be precise, this did not wash Shah’s “sin” of having criticized Kumar for not having done enough for the film industry. Personally, I find the criticism unfounded, if not facetious. An artist is not a minister or a general whose acts of omission and commission are equally important; an artist should be judged by what they do, not what they don’t. If—unlike his equally illustrious fellow stars Dev Anand and Raj Kapoor—Kumar didn’t direct any movie, that was his choice for which his criticism is not quite justified.
But that is beside the point; what is pertinent here is Shah’s right to express his opinion, however unpalatable it might be to some people. The issue here is free speech.
Freedom of expression in our country gets curbed every passing day. From political leaders to tetchy individuals and groups, everybody can claim that their some movie, song, or book “hurts their sentiments”; worse, the enemies of liberty often have their own way. Added to the woes of liberty is a rotten tradition of India—idolatry.
Idols are created and sustained in every sphere of life—and everybody is expected to bow to them. Consider a case from cricket. In 2006, Virender Sehwag and Rahul Dravid opened in the Lahore test and scored 410 runs, falling four runs short of the world-record opening partnership by Pankaj Roy and Vinoo Mankad. When Sehwag was reminded of this fact, he asked who Vinoo Mankad was.
This sent shock waves throughout the cricketing world. How on earth could Sehwag be so ignorant? Former skippers Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi and Dilip Vengsarkar expressed their shock. But what took the cake was a cricket historian and commentators’ remarks. He was so incensed one could feel fumes emanating from the television screen. His point was: Sehwag didn’t even know, let alone worship, the idol called Mankad? It was blasphemy of a higher order.
Idolatry is ubiquitous. In 1995, Khushwant Singh said that Rabindranath Tagore “was a writer of no great merit.” India Today reported, “The reaction in West Bengal was swift. Politicians clamoured for an apology, the media went into a tizzy. Last fortnight, the state Assembly held a discussion on the matter and legislators cutting across party lines condemned Singh while proposing an all-party resolution to this effect”.
Parochialism, however, is not confined to West Bengal. Somebody lampooning, say, Munshi Premchand will also be hauled over the coals in the Hindi heartland.
In politics, idolatry is even more pernicious. In the Congress’ scheme of things, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru are gods beyond reproach. Few party leaders have had the courage to critiquing the political, economic, and social ideas of the two iconic leaders.
It is the same with the Bharatiya Janata Party. Nobody in the saffron party has ever examined the ideas of Deendayal Upadhyaya. Ditto with the bhakts of B.R. Ambedkar.
The age of idolatry is strangling India—choking voices, corrupting cognition and cogitation, numbing creativity.
Ravi Shanker Kapoor is a freelance journalist