Needed: Gestures of protest

SPEAKING VOLUMES

As the first reports came in of yet another attack on a public space for the arts "" a gallery in Ahmedabad, this time, instead of the BORI Institute at Pune "" I found the dejà vu levels rising so high that it was hard to summon up even a shred of indignation.

This time, it wasn't a niche work of historical research in the spotlight but a painting of Ma Durga by the very talented Chittrovanu Mazumdar,who, according to members of the VHP and the Bajrang Dal, apparently committed blasphemy by introducing the motif of a condom alongside the figure of the Mother.

(In parenthesis, I did wonder what those self-styled guardians of religion would have done confronted with my local Durga Puja group's contribution to deathless prose, a long-running work dubbed Scandal in the Pandal, featuring the imaginary and real escapades of several respectable Mashimas and Meshos and gleefully added to by each successive generation.)

Whatever the cause, the effect was predictable. Vandals bathed in a glow of righteousness stormed the portals of the gallery, destroyed paintings, including several works that had nothing to do with the 'offending' work and departed maroing much dialogue to the effect that there was more where this came from for future enemies of Hinduism.

Over the years, these actions of 'protest' by concerned citizens have assumed the tired weariness of a bad troupe of actors performing the same badly written lines, going through the same, tediously destructive motions. The idea is presumably to keep everyone off balance: you never know when you might end up as a target yourself.

This is a reaction that cuts across party lines and religious affiliations, incidentally, to the point where it would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

The set repertoire of gestures never varies in this ongoing jatra of intolerance "" just the players. Here's a useful primer; consider it in the nature of a programme brochure for a play that will no doubt be coming to a theatre near you very, very soon.

Blacken his face: This usually marks the first round of a game that should actually be dubbed Unity in Disparity, as the old slogans for a new India used to phrase it.

When Salman Rushdie came to Bombay recently, indignant Muslims "" most of whom, mind you, have no intention of reading Satanic Verses or following his thread of thought "" offered to blacken his face if he didn't leave.

When the furore broke out over James Laine's book on Shivaji, concerned members of the Sambhaji Brigade, a Hindu Rightwing organisation, couldn't find Laine so they blackened the face of one of his close associates instead, a sort of humiliation-by-proxy.

And not to be outdone, some venerable members of a certain Marxist-ruled state offered to blacken Taslima Nasreen's face recently. I venture to suggest that there is no other single gesture of contempt that could bring Marxists, Hindu Rightwing flagbearers and conservative Muslims into the same fold.

Perhaps we ought to make this mandatory under the Constitution, and have a National Bootpolish Day when everyone gets together in happy harmony to blacken the faces of a favourite, much cherished enemy.

Ban the book: This comes second to the above only in statistical terms "" in India, surprisingly, more people have had their faces blackened than books have been banned, though relatively fewer people have been tarred and feathered than books have been burned.

The Congress led the way, banning everything from Stanley Wolpert's book on Jallianwala Bagh to, more recently, Rushdie's Satanic Verses.

The BJP has had a fair amount of catching up to do, but it tries to compensate by bashing up film crews (Water), disrupting plays (everything from Mee Nathuram Godse Boltoy to Ponga Pundit) and of course, allowing offshoot organisations to ransack the odd library from time to time.

Far more astute than those fuddy-duddy Congresswallahs, the ruling party realises that the future lies in diversification.

Back in West Bengal, the Marxist government has made "" as usual "" a late start, but done its best by banning Nasreen's Dwikhandita on the grounds that gentlemen who have had their pants taken off, willingly, in private, should not be asked to have their pants taken off, unwillingly, in public.

Loot, pillage and destroy: This was, admittedly, supposed to be the preserve of the barbaric early Islamic rulers whom the Hindutva brigade love to hate, but there is no point studying history if you're not going to pick up pointers on technique.

The modus operandi is simple: ask a branch organisation, the more obscure the better, to pick a target, any target. Ensure that the police has better things to do, like assist passengers on trains when they're heaving bodies out of the compartment.

Swoop down on target and trash the place, remembering historical precedents of all kinds "" think The Who and other rock bands who used to get their kicks from destroying guitars and rearranging hotel rooms, plus setting fire to the lot.

When the usual tribe of mewling pseudo-secularists protests, point out in injured tones that you were merely generating employment for the underemployed.

Question their masculinity (NB: to the man who questioned mine after he read my piece on the BORI Institute outrage, thank you very much, and please to note that 'Nilanjana' is a feminine name). Question their patriotism, and ask what they thought they were doing standing by and hoarding their kerosene instead of adding it to the flames.

If this sounds like fun, well, yes, it does have a picnic feel about it, doesn't it? I feel a little let down being on the other side, where all we can do is hold protest marches (been there, done that), sign online petitions expressing our disgust, pain and outrage (bo-ring!) and umm, write anguished articles. We need a new plan of action.

If all you agitated Leftists, agitating Rightwing types and small-minded Centrists out there have any suggestions, you know where to send them.

nilroy@lycos.com