“Will you be my Queen?” asked GMR.

“Yes,” she replied.

And, the rest, as they say, is history.

This is a review of the TV series, Queen, directed by Gautham Menon and Prasath Murugesan, which is based on the book, Queen, by Anita Sivakumaran. The book itself is loosely based on the life of the Ex-Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, Ms. J. Jayalalitha.

The TV series has what it takes to ensure the viewer binge watches for hours on end. Though, at points, it seemed necessary to fast-forward the show to cut to the chase. The drama quotient is high. The cinematography is a healthy mix of old school and the modern. It’s old school in that it has the tried and poorly tested acting style of overacting. But it has the modernistic style of cinematography in that most frames are carefully choreographed, and, as an added bonus, the make up and lighting is subtle.

The storyline is largely based on the true story of the former CM. However, there are some obvious deviations in the interest of creative ingenuity, and for the sake of averting too much scrutiny by having a “fiction” card pinned to the sets. In the TV series, it is the story of Shakti.

Shakti is the State Topper in her 10th boards. After that, she’s forced to quit studies to slip into a career of acting, to support her family, after which she didn’t get the opportunity to return to her apparently true calling, which was academics. She hung on, especially after her crucial and much talked-about career with GMR (acronym comes to mind?), the megastar of Tamil Cinema of the 70s. She is shown as someone who excels at everything she touches. She is shown to be a person who is constantly yearning for the simple joys of friendship and family. Her turbulent relationship with her mother is much reason for her worries in life. Soon after the hold that her mother held on her were released, she was caged under the close watch and overwhelming “care” of the superstar that she pledged her life’s course to.

Love, betrayal, trust, disloyalty, are the underlying themes. Feminism is at the core of the narrative, which was highlighted by the excellent acting by the three leading ladies, Ramya Krishnan, Anikha, Anjana Jayaprakash, who play Shakti. The idea that a woman can be “controlled” by others, is displayed and dispelled within the same season. The panache and smoothness with which the character transitions from being a pawn to being the Queen, is stunning.

Though I’d rate the show high for satisfying a long standing need felt in the “decent Tamil TV show” niche, I’d still call it out for some of its shortcomings. The biggest one, as mentioned previously, is the overacting by the otherwise capable actors. Likewise, some storylines within the show went unstitched, like that of the friendship with Alamelu, which was all important in Episode 7, but fully forgotten by Episode 10 (and replaced by Suryakala (ahem)).

While the idea behind the episodes and the various sequences may have been to highlight the nuances of Shakti’s life, the highlighting was rather skewed, I thought, to allow the protagonist to play the victim card rather than to celebrate the achievements she made despite the odds. For example, we know too much about her schooling, and almost nothing about the political decisions she made, save for a couple teasers that the show offered. Not enough, Gautham Menon. The feeling that Shakti is an enigma is still abound, and that has to go if she should be likeable, and isn’t that the point of a (fictionalised) biopic? If not, then, well, haven’t we found ourselves a little piece of treasure in Tamil TV?

I’m looking forward to Season II, and hope to fast-forward less. Shorter and crisper scenes, and less sermoning by the protagonist, please. I don’t want the gyan, I want to know what happened, how, and why.

So far so good okay. 3/5.

PS: I hope the title makes more sense, in the context of our democratic polity, in the coming seasons.


This is my review of Columbine, by Dave Cullen.

This is a factual account of the 1999 mass shooting that took place at the Columbine High School in Colorado. Dave Cullen was one of the journalists that covered the story, starting nearly as soon as the authorities became aware of the situation. The perpetrators were two 12th grade students at the school, who pulled machine guns on their schoolmates and teachers in the enclosed space of the school building before committing suicide in a classroom. At that point, this shooting set the record for maximum number of fatalities in a mass shooting.

There have been many, many mass shootings since then, some of which have eclipsed the body count of the Columbine massacre. However, the particular incident has remained in the public consciousness more than others. I’m not sure why, maybe because the all-American teenagers from good families did not fit the popular perception of what a terrorist should look like? The perpetrators were Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, two best friends and partners-in-crime, literally.

Some interesting information in this book that may not be readily available from other sources:

  1. The massacre was originally intended to be a bombing, and the perpetrators estimated that 500 people would be injured/killed if things had gone as planned. Their bomb was defective (despite multiple trial runs) and when it failed, the boys took out their machine guns for Plan B.
  2. The narrative that ‘bullied kids fight back’ is not necessarily applicable here; the boys were very popular and did not have trouble finding dates.
  3. Cullen has spent some time going over psychological analyses of the boys, and he concludes that Eric was the true ‘villain’, with a diagnosis of psychopathy, while Dylan went along with the plan as he was severely depressed. This verdict was not completely convincing, but it is difficult to rationalize such irrational behaviour.

This book, of course, led me down the Wikipedia rabbithole of mass shootings in the past couple of decades. What I read was horrific and I was left with some strong opinions on gun regulation. (I am probably not qualified to have such strong opinions; a little knowledge is a dangerous thing)

This book was extremely informative, and clearly Dave Cullen is passionate about revealing the true story behind the incident. However, detailing the ‘story’ of multiple victims and their personal beliefs and their what their families are doing now felt unnecessary. 4/5 for being very informative and clear, but unnecessarily detailed. Related review: a fictional account of a school shooting from the point of view of the mother of the shooter



Will the Adivasi dance?

‘Adivasi’ is how most tribes in India identify themselves, at least as far as names go. Adivasis or Tribes have long confused the Indian State and her non-tribal people. Indeed, the diversity among tribal groups is astounding. While the Nagas tribes were notorious for head hunting, and the Andaman Sentinel tribes are brutally protectionist about their territory, the Nagas are also a political compact of people who aspire to political autonomy from/within the state, and the Dhongria Khond people are one of the most notable nature conservationists.

The non-tribal people (non scheduled tribes (ST), that is) can attribute their knowledge about tribes mostly to films that depict a colonial viewpoint of tribal people, as brutish, terrible, and uncivilized. On the other hand, the State knows just how powerless these groups are, and in far too many cases, exploits them due to it. For instance, in P Sainath’s book, we saw a tribe was asked to move out of their land and were subsequently ‘rehabilitated’ four or five times in a single generation; for such is the authority that the state commands with eminent domain (right to acquire private land for public use).

In the spectrum of perspectives that one may have on tribal groups in India, there are two that have been made into books recently – one, in the form of short stories, speaking of the lives of some tribal people, and the other, a book on the history of a violent struggle waged by many tribes against the State. This is a review of The Adivasi Will Not Dance and Hello, Bastar.

Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar, 2015, for his book, The Adivasi Will Not Dance, a collection of stories set in the mineral-rich Jharkhand. The book includes stories about a young man who migrates to Gujarat only to find that eating meat is subject to heavy social sanction, a young girl who is moving to West Bengal in search of work who has to sleep with a policeman at the price of two soggy bread pakoras, a Troupe-Master who is beaten up because he refuses to dance for the President of India, a prostitute who falls in love etc.

These stories are written with a sardonic tone of a man who seems to have seen it all; the raw human desire, the vulgar display of power, the chill of fear, the gnawing hunger for wealth, love, power, status. His stories are not meant to entertain as much as they are meant to help you introspect, such as when you read of a young woman being thrown into prostitution as a way of life, you wonder why there is no alternative for her. But his stories are also slightly over-dramatic in their style. It might just be my personal preference talking, when I say that too many of the women in the stories exclaim and over-react altogether too often,  making the narrative seem like it’s meant for a play rather than a poignant story book. The best part about this book, however, is the diversity of issues Hansda brings out, ranging from religion, tradition to persecution, patriarchy, and what not. They mostly feel like a collation of stories out of a newspaper, and hence must be read that way, with some piping hot chai or coffee in the garden. 2/5

Hello, Bastar, written by Rahul Pandita, on the other hand is a whole different ball game, while still being on the subject of tribes; but this time, it’s the tribes of Bastar, in Chattisgarh. The book steers away from the topic of tribes and traces the history and life of one of India’s biggest security threats. The essays (or stories?) in the book describe the beginning and acceleration of the “Maoist” movement, the crackdown on the movement in Andhra Pradesh, the infamous Salwa Judum, the capture of the (in)famous leaders of the movement etc. More importantly, while doing so, the book also allows us to pore over the motivations and simple ambitions of the armed men and women.

Rahul Pandita travels and lives with the “Maoists”, and provides us this chilling tale of their lives. The offhanded tone and the apparent normalcy of the movement makes the essays all the more disturbing. The repression of the state and the ideology of the Maoists is described in the book to give us a perspective other than that obtained in the mainstream media, and that’s reason enough to read it, in my opinion. What the media doesn’t always tell us, but which Pandita covers eloquently, is that the movement is a mixture of ideology, repression and revenge, unattended peoples, lacunae of the state, and army-fatigue clad Naxals who fill that void. While one might hear people say that there should be no sympathy for such “Naxal movements”, I don’t think not listening to them will solve this security threat either. Understanding what troubles them, their motivation, and their wishes, is an important part of our democracy. To that end, this book serves one well. 3.5/5

The Adivasi Will Not Dance may seem like a cute book on the lives of faraway people, and Hello, Bastar, may seem like a war-memoir. The beauty of both the books is that they have a subtext that is intensely human and pleading with us for attention. The exploitation and treatment of Adivasis, as if they’re meant to be in zoos, must give way for a decent and “good life” for them as well. An emerging economy like India cannot afford to continue to watch her Adivasi children die of malnutrition related ailments (death by starvation, some call it) or wither due to lack of education; and she cannot shell and persecute her people in the name of internal security, without incurring heavy damage to her democratic psyche. We, as a people who choose our politicians, have a moral duty to understand the Adivasi’s dreams, persuade the state to guarantee her the right to life with dignity, negotiate with her if she’s upset, and not wait long enough that she takes to army-fatigues and gunfire.

The resurrection of the writer, Perumal Murugan

On 5 July, 2016, the Madras High Court (HC) upheld the right of Tamil author perumalmuruganPerumal Murugan to publish his novel, ‘Mathorubagan’, and its English translation, ‘One Part Woman’.

Last year, in an infamous episode of exercising one’s right to be offended, a bunch of people from Perumal Murugan’s village took offense to his story (which described the village and its cultural practices) and forced it out of the stands. They made him apologise for his writing (the nerve!), and forced him to retrieve unsold copies of the books. The State stood as a spectator to this, like a mannequin does when a store is being vandalized.

After this sordid affair, Perumal Murugan had had enough. He declared the writer in him to be dead. Here‘s a post on that shameful episode.

On 5 July 2016, the HC, after upholding Perumal Murugan’s right to publish, also dismissed petitions that sought to ban the books (this time, the “vigilantes” were trying to twist his arm through legal routes, as opposed to plain bullying). The HC said, quite plainly, that no one is forced to read. ‘If you don’t like a book, simply keep it aside.’ Well said your Honour!

Will he come back and write more books, though?

After being harassed by the thin-skinned, easily offended lovers of all-that-is-imagined, we can’t say. But we would love to see him back. As does the HC, which said “Let the author be resurrected to what he is best at. Write.

Infinite injustice

This is my review of The Algebra of Infinite Justice by Arundhati Roy.

In her fight for rights, Arundhati Roy is compelling. Her book of essays (8 of them) makes her sadness, pleas, anger, and righteousness crush you a little with each paragraph that lays bare the injustices perpetuated by protectors and guarantors of freedoms and livelihoods.

In the essay, The Greater Common Good, which she wrote during the Narmada Bachao Andolan, she blasts the lid off the scam and scandal behind the worst planned damned dam in the world. She exposes the scam through numbers that tellingly don’t add up. On recognition of the shoddy engineering and planning, the World Bank (the happiest lenders in town, when they have lending targets to meet, that is) was shamed into withdrawing funding. Nothing can be “for the greater good” if it displaces and destroys millions of tribals. And especially nothing good will come of Big Dams, a concept that’s been abandoned for scientific and economic reasons, but still pushed for in third world countries like India (because it’s a great way to grease the wheels…).

In her essay Power Politics, she says that capitalism works because there are greedy givers and moneyed takers. And lost in these vicious transactions are the have-nots, in line to be swallowed into the belly of the monster. Her sarcasm, dry and twisted (twisted is the world, she’d tell you), is a little difficult to digest. She is extraordinarily bold in her accusations, but some of her broad accusations are flawed. Markets are decried so much that I was beginning to think her suspicion for market economies was ideological. The State’s promotion of privatisation is not always bad, Roy. It’s just bad if it’s business-friendliness, not liberal and (then) privatised. It’s the difference between the State supporting an Ambani and allowing a Silicon Valley to grow. One of them reeks of corruption. But the other is transparent, accountable to consumers, and responsible to its stakeholders (who are in the thousands, and hence also provides for shared welfare). It is no good throwing missiles (she hates those from the bottom of her big heart) at them. Take the case of social capitalists, for instance. I know, it sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s not really one, as proven by social capitalists themselves. Schools (that are run at a no-loss, no-profit basis) are an example. Nevertheless, Roy is right in this essay. She describes a disgusting nexus between bureaucracy and greedy capitalists – in building a dam that helps no-one, but manages to destroy millions of people’s houses and large forests. A dam that is likely to be built by a textile trader and a garbage incinerator (go figure!).

Another essay that I found poignant was The End of Imagination. Nuclear weapons’ Disarmament has become a joke, and nuclear weaponisation has become a dance that the powerful perform; around the pyre that they will create, of people and countries that they will inevitably destroy. “No, nuclear missiles are created to prevent such destruction”, they’ll tell you. Arundhati Roy allows you to laugh at them. Sadly.

The essays are powerful, exposing the great lies told to us today, that we are confused by. How can a dam be good for us if it displaces a million people? It is for the Greater Good. Of course. Of course. Naturally…

Roy hits you hard across the face and tells you not to believe them. That, I think, is what makes her a powerful writer. Waking up your readers from a slumber (intoxicated and hallucinating) is no joke. With the tools of grassroots work, and relentless pursuit of truth, she helps us with a point of view wholly different from what we’ve been fed by the drunken mainstream media. She’s good. But she also leaves you unsettled. She tells us to fight for specific causes in specific ways (like joining the NBA). But is that feasible for lay people like me? Moreover, will that not result in insufficient change? Should we not work upstream? How can we institutionalize participatory democracy? These are some unanswered questions. Perhaps one will be angry enough to figure them out oneself.


To work upstream is to abandon the shelter of grassroots, and to foray into the unknown elite groups, of bureaucracy and politics. It is arduous. Also, horrible as it is, the truth is that well meaning men and women who enter politics and the bureaucracy are converted into leeches and leprechauns, blood sucking and bribe seeking. Perhaps Roy has seen too many of that ilk. Hence the disillusionment. Hence the well placed anger.

Quick epilogue to the essays:

  • Since the NBA’s struggle, the World Bank withdrew from the project. Despite that, the project went ahead. The Supreme Court, however, ordered that the implementation of the dam project, especially the resettlement and rehabilitation of people, should be done in a participative and democratic manner. This end of the struggle has been held as a way forward for many more specific struggles to be waged in specific ways.
  • Nuclear disarmament is still a dream, and dream it will remain for generations to come. However, there have been significant agreements signed between the more powerful nuclear armed countries (US, Russia) to not expand the nuclear arsenal but only to modernize it (make it more potent, powerful). This is a joke, to be honest. They already have enough missiles to obliterate the earth and the moon. Now the buzzwords are non-proliferation of nuclear technology.

Movie Adaptations, Morals in Children’s Books, etc

Firstly: Ang Lee’s Sense and Sensibility movie.

I haven’t read this classic by Jane Austen, despite liking Pride and Prejudice. But Emma Thompson won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for this one, and I wanted to understand what exactly goes into adapting a screenplay. I mean, Austen did all the work already didn’t she? Plus, it’s Ang Lee’s first English language movie and he is all famous now.

I’ve concluded that there are only a dozen active British actors. You see them once in a while in Hollywood movies, but whenever any big budget Brit movie is made, they congregate into one star-studded lineup. This is no different. Emma Thompson (Professor Trelawney), Kate Winslet (from that sinking ship movie) and Hugh Grant (from all those chick flicks) play the main roles. And Alan Rickman (Professor Snape) is one of the romantic heroes!!

The story has the typical Austen-esque drama- “He talked to me, but he is already engaged!”. But the characters are not as cartoon-y as the book, I think.

All in all, a well made movie especially if you’re a fan of the genre or can appreciate the subtleties of good direction and acting.

Secondly: CS Lewis’s Narnia series, and what he really meant.

The Narnia series is widely accepted to be a Christian allegory, with King Aslan playing the role of Jesus. The question, then, is what does Susan’s situation signify? As a kid, it never bothered me one way or another. She enters the magic kingdom along with her brothers and sisters, and in due turn, is banned from it when she becomes ‘too old’. However, she does not return at the end of the series even though her older brother Peter does. This is attributed to the fact that she has ‘discovered lipstick’ and is interested in socializing. Which is still okay, until you realize that she’s being punished pretty severely for these ‘mistakes’- her entire family dies in a train crash at the end of book seven. Harsh. Reddit has discussed different interpretations here, give it a look if you’re familiar with the series and curious. As always, Reddit’s infamous hive-mind has come up with some amazing stuff.

Subversion of the right to freedom of speech

Indians, anyone will tell you, are talkative people. They can talk about mustard oil and about United Nations Law of the Seas, about what the Char Log will think and about IQ scores, about Barack Obama and about Putin, about Modi’s suit and about the half naked Fakir. Indians can talk tirelessly. They can do so eloquently, and with zest and purpose. Few, though, can claim to have given their life or life’s work to the Right to the Freedom of Speech and Expression.

The Right to Freedom of Speech and expression is a fundamental right, that is available to every citizen of India, and is protected dearly by the judiciary. The judiciary, in India, is said to be the second most trusted institution of the country, closely following the Election Commission.

In the Keshavnanda Bharti case, the Supreme Court of India held that the parliament cannot amend the constitution in such a manner that the basic structure is in any way affected. What is the basic structure? Suffice it to know, for now, that it includes all the fundamental rights in the constitution. The Supreme Court thus drew a line that the legislature had to toe, when it came to the right of the citizens to their freedom of speech.

The executive’s overtures with respect to their attempts to subvert our freedom of speech has also been checked by the judiciary, or sometimes by the sheer volume of the speech itself. Censuring free speech on the internet? The SC quashed the Section 66A of the IT Act, that allowed the police to arrest people on arbitrary grounds for whatever they’d written on the internet. Porn ban? Joke; it simply can’t be done. Digital blocks imposed by the union, that too on an entire industry, are but a joke.

The only time when the legislature or executive can make a law or take action against speech is when the speech seeks to adversely affect interests of the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State, friendly relations with foreign States, public order, decency or morality or in relation to contempt of court, defamation or incitement to an offence.

So, if you want to carve out a country in your backyard (like a maoist), you could be arrested. And, if you say that all politicians loot people and bleed people of their sanity and dignity, you can be penalized. If you write a book that makes a case for creating a new country out of India, you can well be thrown into jail. If you propound lies about someone or something, be it in academic papers or through the media, you can be penalized.

Sadly, and factually, there’s another class of people who have been shut up, literally, by the people they tried to talk to, for speaking the truth. Imagine being gagged and strangulated for observing casually in a crowd of people that the earth is revolving around the sun. You were gagged because the people you were surrounded by disagreed with you. They would really like the earth to revolve around a cupcake. You were forsaken because you spoke of the sun. The sun does not exist, they say. The sun is an illusion you have created to corrupt minds and dirty the history of the people of the cupcake. The glowing blurb in the sky is the caramel oozing out of the cupcake, they say. How dare you say things like Hydrogen and Helium. Be gone! Off with your head!

Thus begot what happened to men like Kalburgi, Dhabolkar, Pansare and, I might add, Perumal Murugan too. Kalburgi, Dhabolkar and Pansare were killed by people who disagreed with them because they were rationalists, that is, they spoke sense. Perumal Murugan was gagged out of his village for writing a fictional story based on true events of a century ago, about a custom which the locals would rather not be reminded.

Here, the exercise of curtailment or restriction on free speech and expression was assumed by the proletariat, not the legislature or executive.The proletariat was given the rights to freedom of speech and expression, not the right to take it away! There’s a right to freedom of speech. There is NO corollary to it, and there is NO right to be offended.

What has the state done, in response, though? It was shocked at the reactions of the public to these men, and it hasn’t recovered from the shock yet, more than a year since these incidents began occurring.

Does the state, the protector of our rights, need a jolt to be woken up from its pretend-slumber? For, I find it hard to believe that they could be oblivious to the need to address such subversion of fundamental rights. There are more than enough men among them who have been able to amass wealth enough to make a Somalian mafia don blush. Such acumen need only be expressed in its very minimal amount to find the perpetrators of crimes against the basic structure of our constitution. The will needed, of course, has to be dug up from the reserves that lie deep in their minds which is mostly dominated by vote-bank calculations and efficiency methods in amassing more wealth.

If the state is going to continue its hibernation and ostrich-like behaviour, maybe it’s time the rare utterances of brave ideas and stories should be made more common.

Maybe it’s time that the rationalists unite, to say loud and clear, that eliminating those awe inspiring men was futile. That the intellectual and creative fire in our bellies cannot be extinguished by the most lowly and disgusting expressions of disagreement, even through gun powder and violent picketing.

So, here I am. I dare you, to say people like me are wrong to stand by the men whose lives have been wasted because of you.

I dare you, I double dare you, to fight me with words, with ideas, with an instrument known as debate, or discussion. If this is war, I can tell you that you’re going down, for I’d rather be dead that live a life looking over my shoulder! I’m willing to fight, tooth and nail, sir. My right to freedom of speech is sacrosanct, more so than the infinite inane beliefs you hold.

Indians sure can talk, but now, I don’t see them voicing enough concern about the butchering of the intellect in their national fabric. The silence is loud, and is driving lunatics to suppress the few with a voice. This should not be, it must not be, it shall not be. This is my minuscule contribution towards ending the silence of the masses. My shout out to the miscreants who have killed and maimed free speech in India: please, stop.

I’d written this a long time back. However, most of it is true today too. I was inspired to post this (with some edits) after an argument I had with an otherwise sensible friend, on the need to respect everyone’s rights (specifically, the fundamental rights of freedoms). He said ‘your freedom to carry an umbrella ends at the edge of my nose’ – apparently, expressing views that contradict the majority’s views should be done with “sensitivity”, or not be done at all (the latter is preferred). I thought that was a lot of cow refuse. Majoritarianism (be it religious or cultural) is being given greater preference over constitutional correctness, and that is absolutely reprehensible. It is time, I thought, rational and liberal voices also speak up, and refute the apparent justifications given by narrow minded men. Hence, the post.

India’s Daughter/Sister/Mother

Like every other amateur feminist, I watched India’s Daughter, the BBC documentary on a 2012 Delhi gang rape. It hit close to home, and left me shaken. Frankly, I watched the documentary only because of the controversial court order by the Indian government that required YouTube to pull down the video in India. I wanted to see for myself what the government deemed so slanderous.


Happiness Is A Warm Gun

If you’re anything like me, happiness is not something you think about consciously. You take it for granted. I’ve always been of the opinion that happiness is a choice- a function of one’s own mental state, and virtually unrelated to our environment. With my new-found powers of rationality, I decided to test this hypothesis…


One Part Woman and Charlie

December 2014 was a bad month. Cartoonists were gunned down in Paris and a novelist declared himself to be “dead” in South India. They were unrelated, but they both breathed their last, one literally and the other virtually (and ironically, more significantly) because they were radically so different in the way they expressed art and literature, that their readers were threatened and angered. The difference of opinion between them and their readers bubbled into resentment and violent action.

Charlie Hebdo was bold, and was read by people who disagreed with the editors and cartoonists because their fundamental beliefs were ridiculed. Perumal Murugan was creative, and was read by people who were too comfortable in the present to care to listen to a story, about a past that they don’t want to be confronted with.

paris-je-suis-char_3160192k perumalmurugan

If Je Suis Charlie, then, in India, Naanum Murugan. (“I am Murugan too,” in Tamil)

The book that was withdrawn, One Part Woman, is a translation of a Tamil novel written by Perumal Murugan. It talks of a couple who belong to a lower caste in a little village in Tamil Nadu, in early 20th century. The couple finds that they are unable to have children, so they go to a temple during the annual chariot festival – to pray, and to be “blessed” with a child, in God’s temple. In a custom that involves consensual impregnation, a woman may bear a child in the temple festival, with one of the random men who have come to the temple for the very purpose of helping women. In other words, this was a ritual in which the woman engaged in consensual sex in the temple with men who have surrendered their bodies for the purpose of helping these childless women become pregnant. Remember, the novel is set in the early 20th century. Also, the ritual did exist in real, and is documented too. For small farming communities with tiny landholdings, having an heir is considered very important and for the woman, too, it is essential to have a child to escape the stigma of being barren. So, desperate, the young lady in the story, persuaded by her husband’s family, goes in search of a partner for the ritual during the festival, assuming her husband’s endorsement of it. It is this part of the story that has created an avalanche of resentment from the Hindu fundamentalists.

The Indian right wing public (the right wing fringe elements) were irked by the reminder of their horrifying past. So what if it is based on truth? The ones that disagreed burnt his books and protested loudly. They even threatened violence against the writer. Perumal Murugan was coaxed by the District executive to withdraw his book. He was called for a public meeting, where he was made to apologise to the irate public. He was then offered no protection by the police. He was instead told to leave the district, for his own good. The fundamental right of this writer has been scrunched up in a ball and thrown out the window.

Paris rose in chorus, against extremism, for a magazine that they felt represented them. But India has not even noticed this writer who has been so brutally mentally assaulted. India, for that matter, would never even entertain a magazine of the Charlie Hebdo kind, simply because we really are over-loaded with sensitivity in the fault-lines of our distinct identities. Besides, India cannot be seen to protect a magazine that routinely ridicules “values and principles” of various institutions. India is a melting pot of cultures, and throwing spices in the brew will lead to cracks in the pot.

Why is there such an imbalance in upholding citizens’ rights in a strong democracy like India? To answer this, one must simply look at the history of the evolution of the democracy itself. We are a diverse country, whose peace is guaranteed by pacified sentiments and cultural safeguards. While the French can associate themselves to a common culture way back into history, Indians can’t. We were born different, just like our forefathers were. The very idea of India, in fact, is based on cultural diversity which is revered by one another. Maintenance of public morality, decency and public order dictates the extent to which the Fundamental Rights can be exercised. In the melee, constitutional morality is lost.

Constitutional morality, in the backdrop of Perumal Murugan’s case, can be studied as the protection offered by the State to the right to freedom of speech and expression, and the constitutional ground being created (or protected) for constructive debate which balances cultural activism and creativity. Unfortunately, the Indian democracy lacks in both areas of constitutional morality. While she protects the rights of a community (to express itself – in the form of policing, or violence), she is powerless in the sphere of protection of an individual’s personal right to express himself or herself. While India seems to offer a ground for constructive debate on various topics including this one, she has failed to address the issue of balancing community rights and individual rights (or for that matter, of establishing the criteria for a book/art to be deemed unfit for public consumption).

The immediate way forward is for the Supreme Court of India to issue guidelines on what constitutes immoral literature or art. In the future, constitutional morality has to be deliberated upon, debated and a law must be brought out, to keep a check on over-zealous practitioners of both, freedom of expression and maintenance of public order.