Write to Mercy
When the state exercises its right to take away life, as punishment for a crime, writers, inevitably, get interested. A court weighing justice against mercy is not just an opportunity to examine the moral mettle of a society, but also the stuff of riveting drama. To wit, Portia, one of the most popular of William Shakespeare’s heroines, who makes a sterling plea for mercy in The Merchant of Venice: “[Mercy] is twice blessed/It blessed him that gives, and him that takes”. Her eloquence saves a life, and outwits Shylock, who is the voice of revenge and bloodthirst, but Shakespeare leaves us with the question: why is the quality of her mercy so strained when it comes to the Jew? Other writers have used the figure of a man on a death row to examine when justice shades into retribution, and when it goes on to reinforce existing inequality.
If you thought that was boring stuff, you could do well to read John Grisham in A Time to Kill, a racy thriller about a black man facing a death term for killing his daughter’s rapists, which was also made into a Hollywood film. Before Go Set a Watchman shattered our illusions, there was Atticus Finch standing up in court in defence of a black man falsely accused of rape — enacting white America’s encounter with its pervasive racism. The neuroses of the criminal mind is also great raw material for writers. Truman Capote went in search of a pair of killers in Kansas, ably assisted by Harper Lee, and produced the brilliant In Cold Blood.
Recently, KR Meera showed how to create bravura fiction by turning the fictional eye to the hand that pulls the noose. Hangwoman is a disturbing account of justice in contemporary India: where the media stages the spectacle, and the mob watches in satisfaction from comfortable seats in front of the telly.