WITH playwright Pradip Dalvi preparing to challenge the government ban on Mee Nathuram Godse Bolthoy (I am Nathuram Godse Speaking), the drama over the controversial play is far from over. Barring a few, even critics who view the play as right-wing propaganda, joined the outcry against its suspension following a Congress protest. The state theatre fraternity has even declared a bandh on July 29.
Among the first to remonstrate were film personalities Shyam Benegal, Girish Karnad, Shama Zaidi. Joining them were Amol Palekar and Govind Nihalani—the former's Juloos, a film on Emergency and the latter's anti-establishment Tamas had escaped similar fate. Expressing unequivocal revulsion "at the hooliganism that has greeted the presentation of the play in Mumbai and the Centre's advice to Maharashtra to prohibit its staging," the artistes declared that "carefully orchestrated disruption of law and order to get a work of art banned or a public event stopped is becoming a dangerous feature of our social life. The Constitution guarantees every citizen freedom of expression—it's incumbent upon all parties to see it's ensured."
Bangalore-based Karnad is wryly amused at the irony of the right-wingers being rapped by the same cane they'd earlier wielded. He recalls their '60s protest led by Marathi litterateur N.S. Phadke against Stanley Wolpert's book Nine Hours to Rama, the first-known incidence of a call for a ban in post-Independence India."The protest came years after the book was brought out. I'd even seen the film in Mumbai. How ironical they should suffer now from a tradition they themselves had introduced." An attempt to persuade, feels Benegal, can't become a pressure tactic. Though he's against bans, he believes "you have a right to picket, but not to storm a venue". He's worried that this free-for-all may shackle cultural freedom. A play, he believes, is not a popular medium like television where propaganda may be fed in a subversive manner. A mature society is fecund enough to sprout different viewpoints that may clash, but never crush."Instead of progressing, we continue to regress with such curbs," Benegal rues.
Calcutta-based Moti Nandi, author of bestsellers like Stopper and Coney, also roots for a culture of tolerance. He believes in people's verdict, be it a Rushdie book, a Husain painting or a play on Godse. People, not their elected representatives, accept or reject a work of art. "In Bengal, except for protests during the filming of City of Joy or Utpal Dutt's political plays, there have been no major problems." Though supporting freedom in arts, well-known Bengali writer Dibyendu Palit suspects a hidden agenda in the resurrection of Godse now.
"Though no work of art should ever be banned, pure propaganda shouldn't be glorified as art either." He's disturbed by this saffron vilification of a figure like Gandhi who "is part of our national consciousness". He equates this incident with the earlier targeting of Husain, and feels government intervention is necessary. Surprisingly, Chennai-based satirist Cho Ramaswamy whose plays have been sieged by parties of different hues, supports the ban. Though he admits he'd taken the battle for his plays Sambavani Yuge Yuge (banned by the Congress for its audacious anti-corruption statement), Quo Vadis (banned by the DMK for delving into Tamil degeneration) and Mohammed Bin Tughlaq (banned by the DMK as an exposé, suffered 20 cuts and was passed only through legal recourse) to the courts, he believes politicians, as elected representatives, have a right to intervene in sensitive matters. "Even if well-researched, the Godse play should be banned. Freedom of expression doesn't mean slander and libel. If it denigrates Gandhi by glorifying Godse it must not be staged," he says. Chandrakant Kulkarni, director of Gandhi Ambedkar, which delves on the thorny relationship between the two icons, also questions the motivation of the Godse play.
MAHARASHTRA is not without its history of bans. Natyacharya Krishnaji Prabhakar Khadilkar's Kichakvadh (The slaying of Kichak, a mythological figure) was banned in 1935 by the British for its take-off against the foreign yoke; the innocuous play Agryahoon Sutka (The Escape from Agra), glorifying Shivaji, met a similar fate. The brouhaha over Vijay Tendulkar's Ghasiram Kotwal inspired a book titled Ghasiram, A Storm which examined the dynamics of the row, resolved only through the intervention of stalwarts like filmmaker Satyajit Ray, theatre personality Shombhu Mitra and writer P.L. Deshpande. The play, ironically, was stalled by Pramod Navalkar, who now has to face Congress protestors. The Sena couldn't tolerate the symbolic depiction of Nana Phadnavis as a debauched philanderer. Tendulkar, facing physical threats, managed a rapprochement with Sena chief Bal Thackeray who not only lifted the ban, but also allowed the troupe to travel out of India.
The storm over Mee Godse... has overshadowed the row over another play Golpitha (Red Light Area)—moralists insist the title be changed. Other plays which mortified moralists were Mahesh Elkunchwar's Wasanakand (Sex Scandal) and Gidhade (Vultures) and Sakharam Binder scripted by Tendulkar.
Kulkarni, however, believes it's unfair to compare the fuss over Binder and Godse. "These represent two types of theatre—one is artistic while the other favours political loyalties." But Tendulkar doesn't agree with this ambivalence. "No ban is justified," he says. Even citing a law and order situation doesn't warrant one since "ultimately the whole thing is controversial only because it's politicised".
Toying with the idea of staging Jesus Christ Superstar (which raised hackles in the West for humanising Christ), director Rahul Da Cunha is disturbed by those baying for bans. "We're still not clear why the play was suspended. Was it the subject? The fear of violence? The government needs to clarify the reasons behind such curbs. Yesterday it was music, today it's a play, tomorrow God knows what," he says. Well-known writer Mrinal Pande too urges that if we "err, let's err on the side of liberalism". Delhi-based theatre personality M.K. Raina also condemns the ban, suggesting that "Gandhiji is too great to be diminished by such plays".
Icons can't be beyond the pale of criticism, feels 'Maalan' V. Narayanan, editor of popular Tamil weekly Kumudam and author of the controversial book Jana Gana Mana which critiqued Gandhi's Rs 55 crore gift to Pakistan as an act "not of a patriot, but that of a madman". "If Gandhi's values are valid today, let those who're protesting against the Godse play follow them and become role models. Such bans only prove that politicians can be more dangerous than playwrights," he says. Though Sahitya Akademi award winner Ashokamitran—whose short story Gandhi demystified the icon by criticising his favouritism towards the British and his treatment of his wife—believes every artiste must exercise self-restraint; he's against bans which ultimately target art in the game of political one-upmanship.
"Incendiary speeches, like those of Uma Bharati, or child pornography which exploits innocents, deserve to be banned," says author Paul Zachariah." But not works of art. A year ago, his short story Till You See The Looking Glass escaped a ban when the Christian fraternity opposed its "trivialisa-tion" of Christ, shown debating on whether to shave his beard (based on Luis Bunuel's French film). "Every work of art," says he, "is a constant process of editing and re-editing. Once the work is complete, it may initiate a dialogue, perhaps even a cerebral attack on why it should not have been executed." But, can such a debate be heard in the din of political opportunism?
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