The annual Jaipur Literature Festival is styled as “the greatest literary show on Earth”. For first-timers, the upbeat experience is akin to that of being at the Oscars (had one been at the Oscars), starstruck readers up close and personal with a veritable who’s who of the Indian and Anglophone publishing industry. For readers who normally choose to be in the company of authors and books in the unmediated intimacy of quiet reading, the festival offers a chance for reflection: whether reading and re-reading a book suffices or whether there’s some final meaning that to be arrived at by listening to the writers talk about their books.
However, no matter which side of book-or-author one settled on, walking around the five mini venues within Hotel Clarks Amer in Jaipur, jostling with fans, school students, security teams for celebrity writers, vendors of and shoppers for Indian handicrafts was an atmosphere of high sensory stimulation. In a way, it was an experience ironically antithetical to that of reading.
Coherent coverage of the festival in all its sub-events is impossible. But here is a set of moments that might provide a sense of what it was like to be there.
Writers, the people
Some of the writers whose works have been reviewed in the pages of Asian Review of Books made for a very charming bunch. There was John Zubrzycki, as a moderator, deflecting a question to and about him to keep the focus on the author.Novelists Vanessa R Sasson and Shyam Selvadurai talked about their radically different visions of Yashodhara, the Buddha’s wife, and the first Buddhist nuns. Their readings of different episodes from Yashodhara’s life, as imagined by them in their novels, aroused evident curiosity about the Buddhist tradition and women’s role in it.
David Veevers turned out to be as playful as his writing: a style that transforms the dry, even overdone, history of the British Empire into a lively account of history from the point of view of the colonized. When prompted to summarize his book for the audience in his opening remarks in seven to eight minutes, he retorted, he didn’t need that long. Two words sufficed, “British, bad!”, setting audience expectations, met throughout, for the rest of the talk.
One highlight was meeting Veevers. He touched upon many ideas: the place of research, the process of writing, the cultural war in Great Britain in which historians like him are vilified for writing against the glory of the colonial power that it was, the work of India-based historians, the tricky time that it is for writing history in both India as well as Great Britain, and the open, collaborative space he found Jaipur Literature Festival to be, all leavened with dollops of advice for an early stage researcher.
In contrast, Anjum Hasan spoke about history from the point of view of fiction. Her recent novel emerged out of the contrast between the current turmoil that roils the teaching of history in India today with the indifference and boredom it evoked in days gone by.
While, writers, moderators and the audience often indulged themselves in speculations about the nature of writing—the source of stories, the destiny of characters, the role of research, the place of imagination—the presence of writers such as Bengali Dalit author and political leader Manoranjan Byapari was a reminder that literature has a different side, one that emerges of the crude reality of the struggles and the anger of the oppressed and which cannot be framed by air-brushed claims about artistic genius.
Colorful attendees
The festival audience and their take-aways and observations could be more interesting than the writers.
A young woman pursuing her Bachelors in Science in Delhi was there with her friends. She has been attending the festival for the past couple of years and had convinced a gang to come along; she likes literature and wants to pursue her Masters in the subject. She had read some of the authors who were visiting the festival and was eager to interact with them. Her aha moment was a short book signing conversation with Kannada author Vivek Shanbhag. She told him he was a Kannadiga herself and spoke and understood Kannada but couldn’t read him in the original. He advised her to listen to the audiobooks of his works. Why had she never thought of that? she wondered.
A Masters student of literature was in the crowd, keen to meet an Indian mythology writer and have a book signed. He had a question on his mind as well but was not given a chance to ask it. After a long wait, when he finally came face to face with the author, his attempt at a question was dismissed quickly before he could open his mouth. He was disappointed, “Lekhakon ki kathni or karani mein bahut farq hota hai.” Writers say one thing but do quite the opposite. He was referring to the speech the author had just delivered about humility and contentment in life, as preached by Jainism. The speech was engaging but it was all faff, thought the disillusioned student who had traveled for about 12 hours to meet his hero.
A helpful, middle aged couple were among those who attend the festival every year to hear the likes of Raghuram Rajan, Gulzaar Saab, Shashi Tharoor, and others currently in the limelight. They enthusiastically shared memories of festivals past. They remembered the times when there was no space and all entrants had to be stopped outside the venue because APJ Abdul Kalam, former President of India, and controversial Bangladeshi writer Taslima Nasreen were visiting. This year, they were there to listen to Gulzaar and Shashi Tharoor, as always. But they were also enthralled by Raghuram Rajan, Indian economist and former Governor of Reserve Bank of India. The bonus, for them, was that they were sure they spotted Salman Rushdie in the audience, sitting quietly in a corner, not drawing attention to himself, paying attention to Rajan!
Jaipur, the extra-literary context
Jaipur is pleasant this time of year, pleasantly cool and, for those visiting from the North America of the UK, very spring-like, a lovely opportunity to soak in the sunshine. Except when it rained, which might have disrupted movement in and out of sessions and the traffic outside the venue, it was business as usual: people did manage to walk in and out of sessions; volunteers were around to manage the crowds, and vendors were doing brisk business.
For those without the budgets of the overseas tourists that the city attracts thanks to the programmes such as the Jaipur Literature Festival, Jaipur is a place that requires shrewd bargaining skills in order to enjoy the food and sightseeing in and around the city.
Though the festival is criticized for giving space to the right-wing voices, it might better be seen as a platform for books and ideas of all kinds. On one end of its spectrum are authors who engage with tradition and mythology seriously. On the other are those who indulge in making anti-feminist statements. The organizers’ intentions are evident in the kinds of voices they bring to this gala. That alone is evidence of the impact the festival continues to have. Nobody tries to distance themselves from it. All are welcome.