One of the sure signs that a place has become — for the want of a more appropriate word — provincial is when visiting tourists are badgered to provide testimonials of its greatness. Kolkata was once counted among the great cities of both India and the British Empire. Since then, for reasons that need separate and exhaustive treatment, it has fallen from grace. Today, it is still among India’s big cities but in terms of economic growth and associated vibrancy, it is barely ahead of lucknow, Jaipur and Chandigarh.
Don’t get me wrong, Kolkata is still a great city. The people are naturally friendly (if a trifle over-intrusive), the civic amenities are good and the eateries spectacular and affordable. It is still a major centre of art and theatre, and as a sporting venue it is perhaps unrivalled in India. There is a lot going for Kolkata, apart from the fact that opportunities for economic growth are woefully limited. Yet, when such a city craves for testimonials it suggests that there is a realisation that there is a void which is sought to be filled by asking the likes of Shobhaa De and Ben Okhri — two recent visitors from whom good character certificates were extracted — what they thought of the place. And you can hardly expect visitors, overwhelmed by the generous hospitality of those who invited them to Kolkata, to go beyond gushing superficiality.
This insatiable hunger for recognition comes to mind in the context of the concert of Pakistani ghazal singer Ghulam Ali in Kolkata last week. What was interesting about the musical occasion that was hosted by the West Bengal Government and the Ministry of Minority Affairs at the Centre was that it passed off without any incident — no calls for boycott, no hostile demonstrations and no effigy burning. This was unlike Mumbai where the Shiv Sena ensured cancellation of a concert and even Thiruvanantapuram where there were protests by people carrying saffron flags. No doubt Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee took exceptional care to make a political point about Pakistani artistes being welcome in this “tolerant” city. But even if the Government had kept aloof from a cultural event, a Ghulam Ali concert would have gone on undisturbed in Kolkata.
The importance of normalcy should not be under-estimated. In recent years the Shiv Sena has prevented Pakistani cricketers and performers from doing their thing in Mumbai; and even in Chennai, the possibility of Sri lankan cricketers being prevented from playing is high. Compared to these cities, Kolkata appears a shining example of easy-going metropolitan conviviality.
The facile explanation would be that Kolkata retains a large measure of openness because there is no “Hindu Right” worth speaking of. The point is well taken because some of the fringe organisations that claim to speak for Hindu interests have made it their business to be silly. There was all that needless fuss over Bajirao Mastani, whose depiction of history was, at best, incidental. And there was all that feigned outrage over a book on Hinduism by an American academic — which, incidentally, has reappeared in bookshops.
From a distance it would appear that such trivial controversies have left the citizens of Kolkata unmoved: they are truly ‘progressive’ and enlightened.
Unfortunately, life in Kolkata isn’t all hunky-dory. Nearly a decade ago, the Bangladeshi writer Taslima Nasreen was unceremoniously bundled out of the city by the then left Front Government after some Muslim organisations of Kolkata decided that her life was dispensable.
To date, Taslima hasn’t been allowed to re-enter Kolkata and even her books (written in Bangla) are sold under the counter for fear of recriminations. The fuss that greeted Salman Rushdie’s proposed presence at a Jaipur literature Festival about four years wasn’t a function of “backward” Rajasthan. I can bet my boots that the State Government’s enlightened approach to the culture wars would terminate abruptly if Rushdie was to plan an appearance in Kolkata on a public platform.
There is a disconcerting conclusion that can be arrived at: Kolkata seems an intolerance-free zone because the political dispensation (first the left and now the Trinamool Congress) has entered into a tacit understanding with those most likely to create trouble. As long as their veto on what is impermissible is adhered to, Kolkata can become the citadel of progressive values and enlightenment. The alternative is about as menacing as the Shiv Sena.
A recent incident illustrates the point. A spoilt son of a very rich businessman with political links to the TMC rammed through the barricades on Red Road and knocked down and killed a young air force personnel rehearsing for Republic Day. Far from the police taking prompt action to apprehend the rash driver, he was given a sufficient lead time to disappear from the city. The errant boy is known to hobnob with the same lot of people who were responsible for a rape on Park Street three years ago—the main culprit is still absconding.
What explains the deliberate foot dragging isn’t the ineptitude of the Kolkata Police, but a political approach that is premised on selective indignation. The fact that the hit-and-run driver and the Park Street culprits came from a particular community is both important and incidental. Important because West Bengal politics is shaped by a near-fanatical desire to oblige the minority vote bank. And it is incidental because the protection is showered on anyone — their faith is secondary — that can boast links to the ruling party.
If these rules of the game are diligently followed, Kolkata is a great place. The tourists who are bowled over by Kolkata’s undoubted charm, never get to experience the city’s less appetising underside. Worse, they don’t comprehend the compromises that are made to keep Kolkata ‘progressive’.