To those accustomed to MF Husain’s unpredictable appearances and disappearances over the years, his sudden comings and goings, there is a finality in the hand-written scrawl he issued, with his trademark horse appended, on being offered nationality in Qatar. It’s unlikely that he’ll be coming home now. And why should he? He’s 95, not only very famous but fabulously rich and surrounded by many of his children and grandchildren who are comfortably settled in the Emirates. Husain has freedom to travel the world and welcoming patrons everywhere. Both his creative output and the market for his art remain undimmed.
Why should Husain return to a homeland to spend his twilight years engulfed in a raging controversy that has split the political establishment, polarised public opinion and (despite cautious offers of official protection) poses a very real threat to his well-being? A risk to life, however mitigated, is one thing; but think of an elderly figure being subjected to the daily mental torture of harsh debate, court rulings, injunctions and headlines. Above all, think of someone as free-wheeling as Husain surrounded by bodyguards (like Salman Rushdie was) or being passed from one safe house to another (as Taslima Nasrin is).
Put yourself in Husain’s shoes for a minute to ask whether you would come back? Probably not. Innumerable creative minds in our time and in all history have fled their homelands, either because they dissented or were forced out, to spend their last years in exile elsewhere. Does it matter whether the country offering sanctuary is Muslim or Christian, feudal, authoritarian or democratic? The tragedy in Husain’s case is that the noisy, messy democracy of India hasn’t delivered a clear verdict. It has failed to arrive at a consensus after all these years of hectoring debate. The political historian Walter Bagehot once pointed out that the problem with democracy is that arriving at consensus can often be a painful and protracted process. Maybe Husain sensed he hadn’t that much time. Maybe Bharat Mata has found in him an unwarranted martyr.
Is the “rarity” of the Qatar emirate offering nationality such an issue? Most people, given the nasty nature and turns of the outcry (or the decidedly mixed reception committee awaiting them at home), would take it. It’s no badge of honour for Husain to become a Qatar citizen at this stage but merely a salve to his misery; a last-ditch effort to save his self-respect. Most of all, it has been a question of safety and security for Husain’s large, extended family that their revered paterfamilias should spend his last years in peace. For Qatar’s rulers it’s no big deal. If they’re rich enough to get IM Pei to create the greatest contemporary museum of Islamic art, they can engage India’s Husain to cover their palaces with murals and guarantee him safe harbour. They’re also cocking a snook at India: not all Indians in the Emirates are low-status immigrants, are they?
Husain himself is not blameless in the latest episode of his trials. He likes to cloak his moves in mystery. In the 30 years of our acquaintance, I have never figured out when, or how, he will get in touch. In exile, he has often said that he wants to come home. I saw him last October in London (at Subodh Gupta’s art opening) and he was vociferous that not only would he return to India but he could at any time he wanted! He was in a happy, relaxed mood, hemmed in by fawning admirers, with appointments back to back. But his close friends and family did not think he would return. Governments of all formation had been half-hearted, they said, in their assurances and no top leader had publicly guaranteed his peace in India.
I would opt out if I were MF Husain. Wouldn’t you?
