ಎಚ್ ಎಸ್ ಶಿವಪ್ರಕಾಶ್ ತಮ್ಮ ಬರಹಗಳ ಮೂಲಕ ಹೊಸ ವಿಚಾರಗಳಿಗೆ ದಾರಿ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಟ್ಟವರು. ಇದ್ದ ಸಂಗತಿಗಳನ್ನು ಹೊಸ ಕಣ್ಣಿನಿಂದ ನೋಡಲು ಕಲಿಸಿದವರು.
ಪ್ರಶಸ್ತಿಗಳನ್ನು ಸಾಹಿತಿಗಳು ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿಸುತ್ತಿರುವ ಈ ದಿನಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಅವರು ಮತ್ತೆ ಹೊಸ ವಿಚಾರವನ್ನು ಮುಂದಿಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ. Indian Express ನಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಕಟವಾದ ಲೇಖನ ಹಾಗೂ ಲಿಂಕ್ ಇಲ್ಲಿದೆ
The sudden spate of indignant protests of well-known and award-winning writers seems a spontaneous outburst. Writer after writer has been either returning awards received from Sahitya Akademi, the premier literary institution of the country, or resigning from honorary positions. This impulse seems to be spreading to winners of other prestigious awards: a winner of Padma Award too has decided to join the protesters. Media pundits have called it ‘Writers’ Revolt.’ Though the Minister of Culture suspects foul play in these ‘motivated’ responses, there seems to be nothing calculated. However, the force and fury actuating the responses of writers point to an unmistakable pattern. Yes, it is the unexpected advent of the season of anomie. The attacks on and killings of writers and intellectuals are part of a larger crisis involving terrible acts of domestic violence, rapes and murders of unsuspecting victims. Individual parties, people and ideologies are no doubt involved in justifying the apportioning of blame to different stakeholders of the heartless hate trade.
Some may dismiss such description as capitulation to unreason. Some may call it an alibi for inaction. Many may see it as politically naïve and irresponsible. Even at the risk of being criticised thus, let me elaborate the theme by narrating the subjective experience of how the unpredictable murder of Kalburgi affected me.Though the late Kalburgi and I were not great personal friends, there was always a connection between us. Both of us were engaged with the Lingayat heritage of Kannada culture at different ways. On rare occasions when we met, a few exchanges we had were mutually benefiting. In spite of our deep commitment to values of the greatest spiritual tradition of Karnataka, both of us faced the wrath of some self-proclaimed proprietors of faith. I was unhappy because he was not looking beyond Kannada and Karnataka, whereas he used to scold me for wandering too far from home. A week before he succumbed to bullets, we spoke on the phone. I had requested him to send me the volumes of a Kannada translation of Urdu and Persian texts of Bahmani period, which he was editing. He kindly agreed. His kind gift arrived two days after his death when I could not even thank him.
In between, the unexpected had happened — a murder in Dharwar! Dharwar is a small but culturally awakened town known for literary quarrels of mythological dimensions. There are stories of non-stop quarrels between the intuitionist Bendre and rationalist Sham Bha Joshi and Adya Rangacharya. But murder was unheard of. And Kalburgi was the least likely candidate to be murdered for his dissenting voice. There have been dissents in Karnataka louder and more violent than his. He was not even like the other rationalists eliminated before him. In his recent controversies, he had clarified that he was not an atheist. A stranger to any outlandish school of rationality, he derived all his ideas and ideals from a home-spun rationalist understanding of the deeply spiritual vachana texts.
The reports of the murder were blood-curdling. The doorbell rings. His unsuspecting wife opens the door. An assailant enters shamming as a student. He pulls out a pistol and kills him with two bullets and makes off with his friend waiting outside on a motorbike.
Days after, this Bollywood-style murder scene was playing itself in my mind, breeding fear that this could happen to anyone. Every time the doorbell rang, I was half expecting assailants at the door. I assume it is the same fear that is gripping all of us, particularly writers who, by nature, are vulnerable. When report after report comes in of similar incidents, writers feel distraught and resort to expression of their well-justified distress. The distress becomes more unbearable when the writer realises he/she has no control over the all-pervading anomie. That feeling that those in power are not doing enough to stop the spread of hate makes them feel desperate. No man or woman, including this writer, is an island. When the bell tolls, it tolls for them also.
While a considerable section of writers has responded by returning awards or resigning from positions, there are others who have responded differently. This second list has names as influential as the first: Paul Zacharia, KG Shankara Pillai, MT Vasudevan Nair, Sugata Kumari, Alka Saraoigi, Asghar Wajahid, Mahesh Dattani and several others — some equally known for their fearless and non-conformist views. There is also a long list of eminent award-winners like Kedarnath Singh, Ramakanth Rath, Girish Karnad, Devanooru Mahadeva, Vinod Kumar Shukla, Nanneeta Dev Sen, K Shiva Reddy and many others who have not made their decision known.While sharing the shock and anguish of the writers who have returned their awards, I have chosen to be in the company of those who have not done so. This position needs to be explained though it is not convincing to all.
The present scenario is the cumulative effect of mistakes of the past. Some media pundits have asked why writers chose to shut their eyes to violent episodes in the past. While partly agreeing with them, I want to underline the greater intensity and frequency of violence now. Though the agency of violence is being attributed to this group or that, I feel that the perpetrators are from across ideological divides. Neither do I want to exonerate myself as I am also guilty of not doing enough to preclude the impending darkness as a writer and an individual. I do condemn everyone responsible for the escalation of the chaos. The way Sahitya Akademi has responded to the situation is not impressive, either. In spite of being the most democratic and secular of cultural institutions free from State interference, it acted indifferently when one of its own award winners was shot dead. The head of the institution did not even deem it fit to organise a condolence meeting, though I gather that some such meeting was organised in Bangalore. Faced with a spate of protests, he woke up from slumber and offered a formal response after a meeting of the executive committee. This calculated silence is the negation of the catholicity Sahitya Akademi embodied in the past.
Still, I will continue to keep my Sahitya Akademi and Sangeet Natak Akademi awards. They were bestowed on the likes of us not because of our applying to them or the benevolence of any government. It was the decision of a democratically constituted body of experts. To throw it away means disrespect to those people and processes in a situation when our democracy is on trial.
When Sahitya Akademi was in danger of bureaucratic takeover following the Haksar committee report, the then President, Prof UR Ananthamurthy, forged an alliance of writers of all ideological shades to defend its autonomy. In the same spirit, all writers should now rally behind the institution now in spite of recent aberrations. If writers start abandoning the institution, what is left of it will vanish. For me, the long-term goal would be transformation of the unbearable present into the ideal, undeterred by the repeated failures of protests and revolutions. All of us embroiled in the present turmoil are working towards this pragmatic goal. But why are so few people listening to us? Why are they falling prey to the superficial slogans of the merchants of destruction? Why has our communicative power become so reduced? Once I asked late Habib Tanvir what we should expect from our audience. He said: ‘Nothing at all. We have no right to demand anything. If I have failed to win them over, the fault is mine. I need to work towards better communication.’ Like the Russian mystic George Gurdjieff, who used the violent period of pre-revolutionary Russia to hasten the spiritual evolution of his disciples, we too need to find novel ways of communication to awaken the ideal in our own hearts as well as in others.
ಕೇಸರೀಕರಣ-ಕೋಮುವಾದ-ವೈಚಾರಿಕನೆಲೆವಿರೋಧೀ ರಾಜಕೀಯ ವಾತಾವರಣದಲ್ಲಿ ಜನಸಾಮಾನ್ಯರು ತೊಂದರೆಗೊಳಗಾದಾಗ ಮಾನವೀಯತೆಯನ್ನು ಎತ್ತಿಹಿಡಿಯುವ ಸಂವೇದನಾಶೀಲ ಬರಹಗಾರರು ಪ್ರತಿಭಟಿಸುವುದು ಸಹಜ. ಅಂಥದ್ದರಲ್ಲಿ ಲೇಖಕರೇ ಪ್ರಸಕ್ತ ರಾಜಕೀಯದ ಬಲಿಪಶುವಾದಾಗ ಪ್ರಶಸ್ತಿಭಾಜನ ಲೇಖಕರು ಪ್ರಶಸ್ತಿಯನ್ನು ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿಸುವುದು ಮತ್ತೂ ಸಹಜ. ಇದು ನಮ್ಮ ಲೇಖಕರ ಕೈಲೇ ಇರುವ ಒಂದು ಪ್ರತಿಭಟನಾತ್ಮಕ ಸಾತ್ವಿಕ ಕ್ರಮವೇ ಹೊರತು ಅದೇ ಹೋರಾಟವಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬುದನ್ನು ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಬಲ್ಲರು. ಆದರೆ, ಪ್ರಶಸ್ತಿಯನ್ನು ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿಸುವುದೆಂದರೆ ಅದರ ಅವಿಭಾಜ್ಯ ಅಂಗವಾದ ಹಣವನ್ನೂ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿಸಬೇಕಾಗುತ್ತದೆ. ಇದು ನಮ್ಮ ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಲೇಖಕರಿಗೆ ಸಂಕಟದ ವಿಚಾರ. ಇದಕ್ಕೆ ದೃಷ್ಟಿಕೋನ ಭೇದದ ಅಂಗಿ ತೊಡಿಸುವುದು ಪ್ರತಿಭೆಯ ಬಲವುಳ್ಳ ಪ್ರಶಸ್ತಿಭಾಜನ ಲೇಖಕರಿಗೆ ಕಷ್ಟವೇನಲ್ಲ. ಆದ್ದರಿಂದ ಈ ವೈಚಾರಿಕ ಸರ್ಕಸ್ಸು.
“Once I asked late Habib Tanvir what we should expect from our audience. He said: ‘Nothing at all. We have no right to demand anything. If I have failed to win them over, the fault is mine. I need to work towards better communication.’ ” In all probability, Tanvir is right. ‘Satyam brooyat, apriyam satyam na brooyat’- This appears to be a better track. A king was angry as a predictor told him that his sons would die before him. But the same king was overjoyed when another predictor uttered that he would live longer than all in the family. The approach needs to be better. The horrendous act of a person/group put a full stop to getting more knowledge & contributions from late Prof. Kalaburgi. It is not that some lierateurs are’nt aggrieved, but everyone including a layman is shocked and needs to adapt to Habib Tanvir’s approach. At the same time the performers of the horrendous deed need to understand that if not Kalaburgi, someone else would say the same one or the other day. It is not the religion but humanity would count in the long run.