Calcutta Corner

No Laughing Matter

Journalists in India who criticized the establishment during the Emergency of the 1970s did so more or less knowing that they would be put behind bars. But they did so anyway. Because if they kept their mouths shut against state oppression just because they didn’t want to go to jail, then they may as well have laid down their pens as scribes whose chief responsibility has always been to act as society’s conscience. And the journalists who criticized the government during the Emergency made a choice to assume the risk of incarceration.

But now, you may find yourself in jail whether you make the choice or not and whether you are a journalist or not as chemistry professor Ambikesh Mahapatra discovered the hard way. When Professor Mahapatra forwarded an Internet cartoon which lampooned the chief minister. He had no clue that he was doing anything wrong, far less think that he was committing a crime. During Emergency, stifling dissent was a stated government policy (justified unabashedly by the perpetrators as the need of the hour apparently in order to crush anarchy). Today, it appears to be a tacit tactic (albeit with the same goal— to have a chilling effect on voices of dissent…and with more or less the same justification— to preserve law and order). During Emergency the arrests were based on warrants issued by the state. Today, they seem to be prompted by complaints of virtually anyone who appears to owe allegiance to the ruling party.

But the fact that top ministers, including the chief minister, are ready to justify these arrests, make it clear that these are not just stray incidents, but strategy. Whatever the case maybe, the fact is, that today Bengal feels fear. And it’s not just the fear of imprisonment. Before the police arrested him, the chemistry professor was beaten black and blue by those who lodged the complaint against him. They also beat up a 72-year-old man for no other reason than that he was the secretary of the building where the chemistry professor lived. He too was arrested. Pause a moment to think about the horror of that. Of living in a society where you are thrashed by goons for cracking an innocuous joke and then when the cops come, they arrest you instead of the goons. The difference between the India under Emergency and the Bengal of now is that it’s not just journalists— who dare to pick up the pen— who face the flak. But people like you and me, going about our day, forwarding a few jokes to our friends.

Promises Delivered

Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee is not daunted by the public outrage that has gripped Calcutta following the arrest of Ambikesh Mahapatra. Even as the city erupted into protests with people from all walks of life, from activists to academics and politicians to professors pouring out into the streets to take part in rallies and marches, the CM was releasing a book of her accomplishments. A book entitled Promises Delivered, which enumerates a series of the TMC government’s achievements since it came to power in May last year, is now available for Rs 100. Brought out by the Information and Culture department and printed at Saraswati Press, the CM hopes that the book will go a long way in silencing criticism that her government has not been performing according to expectations. I plan to get myself a copy of the book.

Media Madness

Calcutta loves a good controversy. And its people won’t let go of a chance to make a fuss about anything. No, they won’t even spare a film poster! I really don’t understand the huge hue and cry that is being made over the state film censorship body’s refusal to allow posters of the recently-released Mahesh Bhatt film Hate Story to be displayed in Calcutta without some changes to them. While I agree that the West Bengal Board of Censorship’s decision to cover with a coat of blue paint the nude back of the woman seen in the poster before they go up on Calcutta’s walls (while the rest of the country displays it as it is), is a bit ridiculous, but it’s nothing more than that. Plain ridiculous. But surely it doesn’t merit the kind of media madness it has generated. Sure, the decision is a bit prudish, but I don’t think it qualifies as an attempt to stifle freedom of expression. Let’s save those allegations for the real issues (such as those involving Professor Mahapatra).

It's Hot

Actor John Abraham, who famously said that he found Calcutta's women "hot" (including his ex-flame Bipasha Basu), found that Calcutta itself was also very very hot. In town this week to promote his film Vicky Donor, local newspapers splashed pictures of the Bollywood hunk reeling in the sweltering heat, wiping sweat off his brow. Perhaps Calcutta is a little too hot to handle?

Limitless Freedom

After Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee decided to paint the city in blue and white, people were heard saying "London banaatey giey to dekhcchi Argentina hoyey gechhey (Instead of London, Calcutta has become Argentina!)" The dig refers to Mamata's campaign rhetoric that Calcutta can become a city like London. (Blue and white are the colours of the Argentinian football jersey). Apparently even the CM found this funny when someone brought it to her notice. She went onto explain that "blue symbolizes the sky and limitless freedom".