The stench of the censor

Good times do not last forever. Nor does everyone thrive during good times. Take for example, the censor. His golden hour comes when democracy is smothered, freedom of expression stifled and the fear of draconian measures, even for minor aberrations, sends chills down the spine of almost everyone. The ascendancy of the censor also marks the finest hour for the few who not only know that when the going gets tough, the tough get going, but are also very good at proving their toughness by conveying their protests, wrapping up poisonous barbs behind a smokescreen of words.

Look at how the tough among the journalists of Nepal are handling the situation arising out of the dismissal of the Deuba government and assumption of authoritarian power by King Gyanendra. An editorial in The Kathmandu Post, ‘Socks in Society’, dwells on the value of branded socks, good socks, thin socks, thick socks and the need for changing socks, regularly, before concluding, “Branded or unbranded, dear readers, let us all make a resolve to wear clean socks this summer.” Or take a look at this editorial in The Nepali Times. Entitled, ‘On Felling of Trees’, the editorial says: “The sudden epidemic of tree-felling along Kathmandu’s streets is drastic, misguided and not consistent with the needs of the population.” The editorial then says that “trees introduce oxygen into the atmosphere”, and “reach down to the grassroots to hold the soil together”. It ends with the note: “All in all, trees should not have been axed. Because the damage has been done, can we ask the authority concerned to promptly correct the move and bring back the greenery?”

Replace ‘socks’ or ‘trees’ with ‘democracy’ and the real import of the editorials becomes readily perceivable. Is the censor tearing his hair, in anger and frustration, at his failure to spot the hidden meaning in time to block them out? I think he may regain his cool, once he remembers that he is only a mortal. And that he is not the first censor to have been fooled. Nor will he be the last one. History is paved with instances when the shrewd and the innovative made the censor look asinine.

Here is one trick that fooled the censorship imposed along with the declaration of Emergency by Indira Gandhi on June 25, 1975. Ashok Mahadevan, a young journalist, felt terribly annoyed at the revocation of all forms of freedom. He decided to take on the censor and bring him down a peg or two. He recollected an obituary that appeared on April 25, 1974, in The Daily Times of Sri Lanka when the island nation faced a similar situation. He suitably adapted it, prepared an obituary note, booked the insertion with The Times of India and waited with bated breath, not sure whether his ‘obituary note’ would go through or would be spotted by the censor and blacked out. His sighed in relief when he spotted the obituary in the issue of June 28. It read: D’CRACY D.E.M., BELOVED HUSBAND OF T. RUTH, LOVING FATHER OF L.I. BERTIE, BROTHER OF FAITH, HOPE AND JUSTICE EXPIRED ON 26TH June.