Tamas Meeting in Ramjas_Simeon

7/24/2019 Tamas Meeting in Ramjas_Simeon

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Venue for a Speech on Tamas - A Chronicle of an Event That Should Never

Have Happened

by Dilip Simeon

(Published in Bruised Memories: Communal Violence and the Writer, by TarunSaint (ed), Seagull Books, Calcutta, 2002)

Early in the year of grace 1988 certain (dis)reputable members of the academic

community in the University of Delhi organized a public address on an

unspeakable subject by a reluctant speaker in an unlikely location. Your chronicler

was one of those persons. Our repute - or notoriety, depending on ideological taste

- was on account of our strident criticism of the politics of Hinduttva, at the time

a popular philosophy within the teaching community. (It probably still is,

although the hopes of its votaries have been somewhat dimmed by the course ofevents). The address was part of a meeting to discuss the controversial TV serial

Tamas, whose storyline suggested to some minds that the Partition of India had

been sparked off by the actions of Hindus. Its advent on the household screen had

enraged the sensibilities of Hinduttva's hegemons. So severe was their ire that the

Hyderabad centre of Doordarshan had been ransacked by the local wing of the

BJP in protest and as a token of what could be expected to happen if it continued

to be telecast. In our opinion however, Tamas was a balanced and sincere

fictionalized portrayal of the dangerous and inhuman consequences of communal

politics of whichever hue. The star speaker at our meeting was none other than the

author of the script and the venue was the auditorium of Ramjas College. What

transpired on that fateful day became an object lesson in the art of intimidation,

the politics of speech and the (potential) strength of conviction.

The episode had its origins in the decision by the students' wing of the

Hindu nationalists to invite me to participate in a panel discussion of the serial

being organized by the university student's union, then under their control. I was

approached by the unions' emissaries during the course of a lecture by two visiting

Pakistani civil rights activists (ironical, but true), and told them that a far betterchoice of speaker would be my comrade and colleague, Purushottam Agrawal,

who was then employed as a teacher of medieval poetry in the Hindi department

of the college. This was agreed upon, and we were duly informed of the date and

venue. A week later, on the appointed day we saw posters advertising the seminar

at Tagore Hall with a list of names which contained four speakers of known

saffron persuasion (known colloquially as shakha mrigs) and two (pseudo)-


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secularists (to use Shri Advani's quaint and ironic semantic invention) one of

whom, Rajendra Mathur of the Hindi daily Navbharat Times subsequently

revealed to us that he had no information about the panel discussion and that his

name had been announced without his consent. On the lawn outside the Hall and

in the company of several students who had come there specifically to hearPurushottam, the latter made clear his anger and irritation at the organizers for

having misled us about the nature of the panel, which we had been led to

understand was going to be `balanced'. He was inclined at first to boycott the

proceedings and deny the event the aura of a democratic debate, so dearly sought

after by its organizers. After considering our options, our little group decided that

this was an opportunity not to be wasted. Purushottam was the first speaker and

his speech delivered extempore, was the most scintillating polemic against so-

called Hindu nationalism that I have ever heard. Drawing upon his knowledge of

classical bhakti as well as modern literature and with rhetorical flourishesembellished by his political sense regarding the dangers of incipient fascism, he

spent over forty minutes demolishing the arguments and actions of the opponents

of the serial. Towards the middle of his oration the organizers and the rest of the

panelists (which included a notorious politician from East Delhi) were looking

decidedly sheepish, but it is a measure of the power of his words that he held his

largely hostile audience spellbound. As our small group sipped tea and chatted in

the lawns of the Law Faculty in the aftermath of the meeting Ram Prakash

Tripathi, a Ramjas Hindi honours student, suggested that we invite the author of

Tamas to the university. Ved Prakash, another of Purushottam's students,

enthusiastically supported the idea. We soon convinced ourselves that this was the

best way to counter the hysteria being so assiduously built up about the serial. And

what better place to invite him to than our own college? A date in early February

was tentatively decided upon and arrangements made to invite Bhisham Sahni

along with Dewan Birendranath, the well-known Urdu literateur and a stalwart of

the anti-communal movement.

One morning, some days before our big event, I arrived at the college to

find Ram Prakash standing at the gate holding a stick with an inverted ghara witha gruesome face painted on it. A placard indicated that the face represented

"communal forces". Ram was an ebullient soul, once a convinced Hindu

nationalist, and by his second year equally convinced of the need to combat

communalism. His detractors held Purushottam's influence to be totally

responsible for this metamorphosis and I think Ram would agree with this

assessment. "What are you upto, Ram?" I asked somewhat redundantly, since it


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was clear as daylight what he was upto. "Ab bahut ho gaya hai sirr!", he replied

enthusiastically, informing me that he had decided to wait no longer before

starting a counter campaign in support of Tamas. His presence at the spot was the

start, he told me, of a student demonstration which he had organized. An hour so

later he could be seen among a noisy group of about seven or eight of his friends,moving about the campus. One of them held aloft the aforementioned hideous

dummy, while the others waved posters with slogans such as "Communalism,

Down Down", and "Tamas serial aya hai, Phirkaparast ghabraya hai". Most

observers of this demonstration did not seem impressed by anything but the hiatus

between its size and the disproportionate amount of noise emanating from it.

Our plans to hold the meeting in Ramjas College were not exactly

progressing without let or hindrance. The college principal, who had initially

expressed support for the idea, began having qualms after the university students'

union sent emissaries to warn him of dire consequences should Bhisham Sahnihave the temerity to visit the campus. There were rumours that they planned to

ransack the college - eent se eent baja denge - was the colourful threat being

circulated. Teachers of saffron persuasion were extremely annoyed and we

received more than our usual quota of black looks that week. However, both

venerable gentlemen had consented to attend and left-wing student organizations

on campus were enthused. Suddenly a highly visible campaign emerged to

mobilise a massive attendance for the meeting. The college union president - an

ideologically innocent young man - was bothered more by the threat of being

eclipsed by the event than by its political import. He was happy that we asked him

to deliver a welcome address.

The night before the big day I received a phone call at home from the

station-house officer of the police station directly concerned with the security for

the function. Now, Ramjas College was never known for its pacific atmosphere. It

had seen so much turbulence that its denizens were used to making jocular

suggestions that a special police station be set up outside its gates. Owing to the

fact that I had been embroiled in police cases by certain affectionate members of

the college administration and over the years had had occasion to intervene inseveral affrays which ended with the need to visit the thana either to bail out

students or lodge complaints, I was familiar with local police officials. This had

not prepared me however, for late-night chats with officers of the peace. This one

addressed me with great chumminess.

"Seem'n saab!", he exclaimed, "we hear that Bhisham Sahni is coming to

your college tomorrow?". Indeed, I replied, what a pleasure to hear from you, and


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you hear correctly.

"Can't you postpone the function somehow?".

"No I can't, everything has been arranged, you have been duly informed,

invitations have been despatched. But why do you ask?"

"Our information is that the opposite party is planning violent disruption -on the lines of what happened in Hyderabad".

The prospect of having to face the wrath of the entire local wing of the

Hinduttva-vadis was quite alarming, but I put a brave front on it.

"Our information, to the contrary, is that they will not risk it - since they

know they will fail to cause any disruption".

The conversation dragged on for some minutes, with the policemen

importuning me to call the whole thing off, and insisting that it was too

dangerous. Finally I had to tell him rather tersely that the holding of public

meetings was a democratic right of the citizenry, and that I was not about to agreeto his request. In any case, I said, after listening to one last warning (this was

beginning to sound more like a threat, I thought to myself), with upright

policemen like him to protect us, we had nothing to fear from potential disrupters.

He then suggested I use my `mobiliizing' ability to arrange a demonstration in

support of Kiran Bedi, at the time the target of protests by lawyers, one of whom

had recently been arrested and handcuffed after being caught red-handed stealing

underwear from the St Stephen's College ladies' room. While I was convinced that

in this case the lawyers' agitation was unjustified, I was amused that he found it

possible to ask me to `organize the masses' on behalf of the police. Begging his

pardon for being unable to do as he asked, I put down the receiver and went to

bed.

Early the next morning I had another phone call, this time from my

esteemed friend Dewan Birendranath, who had agreed to preside over the meeting.

"Dilip!" he said, with a slight hint of concern in his voice, "are you expecting any

trouble today?". Wait, I replied the SHO has been speaking with you, has he not?

The conscientious officer had spent a deal of time trying to convince Dewan sahib

that the meeting was doomed to end in a fracas. (Fortunately Purushottam did notpossess a telephone connection at the time). But the Dewan was a man of

considerable courage. I managed soon enough, to persuade him that we ought

under no sort of threat to cancel our programme if we were at all serious about

combatting the vicious propaganda being put out about Tamas and Bhisham

Sahni. "Let them do their worst!", he said cheerfully, "We shall face it! I'll be

there". I got ready and mounted my motorcycle to go to college.


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Arriving at Ramjas well before ten (which was the scheduled time for the

meeting), I found Purushottam with Ved, Ram and a couple of others walking up

and down on the front lawns, consternation writ large on their faces. "Mitravar!

Ek vikat sthiti paida ho gayee hai". I was alarmed. He didn't use such language

without good reason. And good reason there was. Bhisham Sahni had suddenlythat very morning, changed his mind about addressing our meeting. The charming

SHO had won a victory and scared off the one person who mattered most. I was

thunderstruck. What were we to do now? The college auditorium was already full.

If the star speaker absented himself, not only would we all experience the

ignominy of retreat, but the cause to which our status among the students was

firmly attached, that of combatting communalism and defending the serial, would

suffer a tremendous body-blow. The situation was clearly intolerable, and a

remedy would have to be found immediately. We made an emergency decision to

go personally to the author's home in Patel Nagar and appeal to him to change hismind once more. Purushottam, your narrator, and Manmohan Singh of the

Students' Federation of India hastily got into a taxi outside the college and made

off. On the way we spoke to the driver, mainly to apprise him of the extreme

urgency of the situation and urge him to step on the accelerator. He turned out to

be a Muslim, quite anxious about what might happen to him and his vehicle were

he to attract the tender attentions of a certain group of `patriots' whom he had

heard were due to descend upon the college.

The literateur greeted the taxi-load of (pseudo)-secularists with surprise.

Clad in a long brown Kashmiri pharen, he looked the picture of firm resolve.

None of our fervent appeals appeared to move him. Do you know how much

trouble it has been to get this telecast, he asked us. What a great waste it will all

have been if the government uses a fracas in your college as a pretext to cancel it.

Quite true, we responded, but there will not be a fracas. How can you be sure?

asked his wife, we have heard that Ramjas is a garh of the Hinduttva brigade. No

no, we assured them - it used to be, but no longer is - we have fought them to a

standstill. The hall is full, Bhishamji, the entire college, the university, is waiting

for you. Please don't desert us now! And so it went on, for several minutes. Thegreat man would not budge. The young comrade waxed eloquent about the hordes

of students who would die rather than allow a hair of the writer to be touched.

Purushottam announced dramatically that he had never done this before, but was

going to fall at Bhishamji's feet to implore him to attend. Before he actually did

this, we appealed directly to Mrs Sahni, assuring her that there was no question of

any physical danger to her husband. This was a moment of truth - we were


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desperate and the lady must have sensed our desperation. None of those present

had any personal axe to grind, all of us were there only on account of a deeply felt

political - and indeed sentimental - attachment to something much larger than any

selfish interest. Mrs Sahni must have discerned our sincerity and understood the

confluence between our ideals and those which had inspired Bhishamji to writeTamas in the first place. Her face softened and appeared to relent. Suddenly the

stalemate ended as, in a moving gesture, she announced that she would advise him

to go provided she could accompany us. Perhaps she was still apprehensive about

his safety - who knows what the guardians of the law had told him? Perhaps she

was simply trying to ensure that whatever the danger he might face, she would be

there to share it with him. If courage indeed be defined as grace under pressure,

Mrs Sahni demonstrated a fierce courage that morning, as with that one gesture,

she incorporated us into her family, and informed us, not verbally, but by physical

presence that henceforth we were responsible for whatever happened. Breathingsighs of relief, we bundled the couple into the taxi and made off as fast as the

driver could manage.

The writer's anxious moments had not ended - in fact he was still not sure

that he was not walking into a minefield. As we turned the last corner and

approached the gate, we heard loud shouts of hai hai, hosh mein aao and

murdabad emanating from the vicinity of the college office, which was located at

one end of the building. Sahniji assumed, understandably, that the hostile slogans

were directed at him. He turned on us. "See! they are shouting at us! There is

bound to be trouble!". For a split-second I too, imagined an angry demonstration

set up by disgruntled shakha-mrigs. Veteran Ramjas-ites are familiar with the

feeling of deep dismay which overcomes the individual who is part of an ongoing

struggle when he or she has to face yet another confrontation with its barely-

suppressed violent undertones. In that passing instant I think all of us realised the

magnitude of what we had undertaken. Bhisham Sahni had become a household

name in the country. Despite our admiration for him, we were in no doubt that

there were many among his detractors who would have been happy to see him

beaten up and publicly humiliated. The slogans stirred us out of the euphoria andrelief we had experienced upon actually getting the couple into the taxi. We woke

up, but felt relieved yet again when we realised that the slogans were part of a

normal run-of-the-mill Ramjas College anti-principal demonstration. This one was

being staged by hostel students angry about mess bills and the like. It was all quite

ordinary and we said as much, but for a few seconds our guests were convinced

that nothing short of physical dismemberment awaited them.


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The scene changed rapidly. The minute our taxi entered the iron gates, a

crowd of student activists including Ravi Kant, Arun and many others, relief writ

large on their faces, surrounded us even as we opened the doors. Shouts of

Bhisham Sahni zindabad and inquilab zindabad rent the air as the man was hoisted

on friendly shoulders and carried all the way into the college porch and thencethrough crowded aisles into a jam-packed auditorium. The hall must have had

thrice as many occupants as its capacity of seven hundred. The scene inside was

unbelievably boisterous and defiant. Tall and surly plainclothes policemen stood

with barely concealed firearms on the dais, where Dewan Birendranath was

waiting. Our senior colleague GB Upreti welcomed the guest as the principal

hovered around looking busy and anxious. (As he had every reason to be).

Students whooped, cheered and whistled with delight just to see the famous

author. The irrepressible Ram and Ved had organized a gang of their own to

persist with their favourite Phirkaparast ghabraya hai. Some groups almost sangthe slogan Sampradayikta pe hulla bol while others announced the imminent

advent of the Revolution. Bhisham Sahni was wished a very long life and

Communalism was `downed' once and for all. The hall reverberated with slogans

for several minutes during which it looked as if its false ceiling might collapse. I

was amazed and moved to see the outpouring of vibrant emotion with which the

frail figure responsible for authoring Tamas was greeted.

The dramatic oscillation of euphoria and tension had not ended however,

and we experienced several fearful minutes when certain faction leaders of the

college student's union began a very noisy and violent argument among

themselves about who would have the honour of delivering a welcome address.

Since all this took place on stage and in close proximity to Sahniji, we had good

reason to fear for his safety. Not many teachers had bothered to come, and I was

glad for the re-assuring presence of my colleagues Upreti sahib (who sat on the

edge of the stage right through the proceedings to ward off potential trouble-

makers), Sudhakar, Pralay and Salim, all of whom were there out of a sense of

solidarity. At the moment when the squabble erupted however, we would have

been at the mercy of the police but for the presence of mind and completeselflessness of Suman Kesri, Kamala, Shubhra Pande and a small group of women

led by them who formed a human cordon around our guests. That Suman was

several months pregnant made her actions all that much more significant. In a way

the gesture of the women manifested the palpable sense of community that

pervaded the Ramjas auditorium that morning. All of us, the ones who had

organized the event as well as most of the large audience were united in our desire


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that it take place peacefully and that Bhisham Sahni and Mrs Sahni return home

absolutely safe. When the women formed their cordon they expressed a quiet

determination which was not lost on everyone who saw it. No attempt to harm our

guests could have taken place without meeting with immediate physical resistance.

From that moment the police became redundant, and the rhetorical question whichDewan Birendranath was to pose a few minutes later had been answered before it

was asked.

The meeting got underway. Dewan sahib took the chair and the college

principal and union president spoke their welcome. Purushottam and me made

brief speeches. By this time the Dewan was carried away by the sheer drama and

passion of the moment. Standing next to the podium with one arm akimbo and the

other held aloft, he wagged his finger at his political adversaries and announced

that henceforth Indian citizens would have to wage a prolonged battle to rid the

country of the politics of hatred. "We shall see if this is Gandhi's or Godse'sIndia!", he bellowed into the mike, as the crowd cheered his fighting speech. The

star of the occasion, Bhisham Sahni was the last speaker and the applause which

greeted his few steps to the podium was deafening. All his anxiety seemed to have

evaporated in the company of so many fervent well-wishers. He described the

tremendous struggle which had had to be waged to obtain approval for the serial

to be telecast. Referring to the controversy it had sparked off among the Hindu

Nationalists, he remarked on the absence in his script of a direct mention of any

organization by name. "If someone recognises his image in the serial, he had

better search his conscience", he advised. I noticed that the front ranks of seats

were occupied by all the top brass of the university student's union. For all the

bloodcurdling threats with which they had sought to sabotage the meeting, they

were well-behaved, with bland countenances. Given the presence of the police and

the fact that they were heavily outnumbered, their placid conduct was probably a

case of discretion being the better part of valour. Soon after the meeting

concluded, the university union president congratulated Purushottam and me,

wearing a smile which barely concealed his detestation. The meeting had been a

grand success. As the chief guests were escorted home and the last slogans diedaway, our assorted gang of organizers gathered to celebrate.

The Tamas meeting was (till then and without exaggeration) the single most

significant public gathering in Delhi university, if not the city of Delhi in recent

memory. It was definitely the most vibrant and inspired gathering within a walled

space that I have had the privilege to witness. The police did their jobs well

enough - after doing their best to scuttle the event (in which aim they very nearly


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succeeded), they turned up in strength to prevent what is known in bureaucratic

parlance and among official newsreaders as "an untoward incident". For their part,

the Hinduttva brigade did what they know best. They tried to achieve their ends

by intimidation and having failed, quenched their anger by painting vicious

slogans all over the college walls overnight. For all of us leftists and unabashed(pseudo)-secularists who by the late 1980's were beginning to wonder where our

fighting spirit had gone to, the meeting signifed the rejuvenation of faltering

hopes and aspirations. It was our way of standing up, defying communal politics

and saying, "We're not dead yet!". And despite all that has happened since then,

not least of it the passage of my respected friend Dewan Birendranath (may he rest

in peace) and the destruction of Babri Masjid, that day still energises me as I know

it must invigorate most of those who attended it.

We weren't finished then. And we aren't finished now.

(NB: This is a personal account of a public event, and must doubtless appear

incomplete to many who witnessed it. The author asks the pardon of all those

persons who helped organize it and have not been mentioned in this narrative due

to lapses in his memory).

Documents

Tamas Meeting in Ramjas_Simeon