Basking in the literary sun

The Jaipur Literature Festival seems to get bigger and bigger every year retaining its attractive mix of the cerebral and the celebrated.

The international audience continues to head here, despite some threats by so-called fundamentalist fringe elements against those who read last year from Salman Rushdie’s book, Satanic Verses, or the invited authors from Pakistan. The government has finally shown some spine and the festival organisers, Namita Gokhale, William Dalrymple and Sanjoy Roy all seemed very relaxed about the pre-festival controversy. There are no clouds on the horizon.
And so on a wonderfully sunny winter’s day, we landed in Jaipur. Even the early morning flight from Delhi was on time enabling us to scramble in for Mahashweta Devi’s moving inaugural speech. This is probably what gives the JLF it’s unique identity: apart from audience seated decorously on chairs, there were people crushed together all over the Diggi Palace’s front lawns, squatting on the ground and everywhere possible, silently appreciating a woman who has devoted her life, and considerable talent, writing about the marginalised and forgotten sections of society. Since she is in frail health, this was a rare moment.
Not just the festival, but the number of venues accommodating the various events at the Diggi Palace seem to have expanded as well. Thus, most of the erstwhile slightly cramped tents are far more spacious, giving the much-needed breathing space and legroom. However, thanks largely to the fact that much of the festival remains free for the masses (barring a few of the evening musical programmes) every venue still tends to get packed.
The other difference, this time, is the visibly heightened security with each delegate carrying a uniquely coded pass scanned at the entrance to ensure that only the delegates and authors are allowed access. There is airport-style frisking, cars are parked at a distance, and there are more cops than I remember. But one would rather endure a bit of discomfort than have the festival hijacked by those who want cheap publicity on the backs of hard working authors.
I have successfully managed, despite my own sessions and sundry TV interviews, to attend events by other authors as well. One that was extremely enjoyable featured the acerbic chronicler of human failings, Zoe Heller. Having just read her book Notes on a Scandal, and seen the eponymous film based on it starring the talented Dame Judy Dench, it was reassuring to listen to someone who wore her fame so lightly and was both self-deprecatory and yet astute. Ruefully conceding that her characters were sometimes difficult to “like”, she made many interesting and valuable observations about the process of writing, including the fact that her career in non-fiction and writing articles has helped her in the discipline of just getting the job done. Of course, Heller is one of the few authors who actually manages to make a very comfortable living through writing. That was undoubtedly a good message to send out on the first day of the festival.
Equally fascinating was the session with Pico Iyer and Akash Kapur, with the former talking about his latest book, The Man Within My Head, a tribute to Graham Greene with whom Iyer shares a unique, almost spiritual, relationship. And this includes the slightly curious fact that many things that have occurred in Iyer’s life had also previously happened to Greene. Iyer also claims that his chosen “hero” was almost like a father figure. Iyer’s meticulous and precisely chosen words are always delightful to listen to.
One instance he narrated where he felt a close similarity between Greene and himself concerned the fact that Greene had always feared his house might, one day, be burnt down. And it actually did happen during the Second World War. Similarly, Iyer’s house in California was burnt down, not once but over and over again. Since many authors (including moi!) tend to relate closely with other writers, often those who have died long before, through their books and their writings, Iyer’s bond with a dead author left us with much to think about. Could this be just a romantic association… a past life regression? Perhaps we should just read the book and find out.
His Holiness, the Dalai Lama also spoke at the festival to a completely packed front lawn. A delightful feature was the number of schoolchildren who were there to ask questions and engage with him.
In another session, the late Sunil Gangopadhyay was remembered through a very moving reading of one of his short stories by Sharmila Tagore, the recitation of one of his
poems, which had been translated by Amit Chaudhuri, followed by a detailed discussion on his legacy.
One has been rather spoilt for choice in just the first few days, with authors such as the Booker Prize winner Howard Jacobson, Javed Akhtar, Shabana Azmi, Sebastian Faulks, Prasoon Joshi and a whole line-up of luminaries to be listened to and chatted with. It is, as usual, difficult to decide which sessions to attend. Some of the choices are simpler, as my own sessions come up, in fact today on Republic Day. These include a discussion on Punjabiyat and whether being a Punjabi affects my writing (of course it does!) and an in-depth discussion on gender issues entitled thoughtfully “A Surrogate Life”, alongside Rohini Nilekani, moderated by Jaishree Mishra.
One is also particularly happy about the focus on gender this time at Jaipur, doubly emphasised with the release of a book, Of Mothers and Others, an anthology of stories, poems and essays in which I too have contributed a short story, The Devi Makers. The proceeds of this book will go to a charity supporting children.
So as I try to decide whether I go to listen to Aminatta Forna, Rahul Pandita, Navtej Sarna, Sebastian Faulks, Kiran Bedi, Shashi Tharoor et al… or just lounge like a lotus eater in one of the many cafes dotting the grounds of the Diggi Palace… it promises to be a very satisfying, provocative but peaceful festival. Except that every now and then there is a rumour that Salman Rushdie might show up.