4 min readNov 17, 2024 09:40 AM IST
First published on: Nov 17, 2024 at 07:30 AM IST
A 36-year ban on Salman Rushdie’s book The Satanic Verses may come to an unceremonious end for the most Indian of reasons: the original order is nowhere to be found. India was the first country to impose restrictions on Rushdie’s book in case citizens found it blasphemous and indeed, there were riots in Mumbai after it was published in the US. Taking into account the peculiar situation, the Delhi’s High Court had last week said that “none of the respondents could produce the said notification dated 05.10.1988 with which the petitioner is purportedly aggrieved”. To be clear, The Satanic Verses has not been cleared for anything as lofty as freedom of expression, but is in the news for the bureaucracy’s inability to produce the order.
Perhaps it is a bit naive to think that bloodshed is an overreaction to disliking a book, considering people in Delhi regularly come to blows over parking. Rushdie was already an established literary figure when he received the Iranian fatwa so it’s unlikely he had some deliberate, malicious intent to garner publicity by provoking a violent stir. There are easier ways to sow cunning discontent than to spend five years writing a 600-page book. A writer of fiction knows a vivid imagination is his best guide. The only hope anyone has for producing something original is to stick to your truth — tell your truth — and see where it takes you, propriety be damned. A forthright adherence to his clarion call in Rushdie’s case turned out to be a horrendous aberration, marking him for life. As Alfred Hitchcock observed, there is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it. That applies to life, as much as to horror movies like Psycho.
To have to go into hiding, to get used to a heightened state of anxiety with a perpetual, looming threat of a murderous attack is enough to drive someone into deep despair. Then, to have the terrible thing finally happen — a brutal knifing where Rushdie lost an eye — who knows, it may have even been a relief. The nightmarish waiting that occupied mind space for decades is done and dusted; can anything worse happen? The dreaded event over, it lulls you into believing you’re off the hook for a while. What does it mean, to process and make sense of the many bizarre situations going on around us?
That human lives were lost because of an alternative point of view in a book, is a tragedy. But it’s worth remembering that it’s the disruptors who take us by surprise and improve our understanding. Even in daily conversations, we talk of the odd occurrences that transport us somewhere new. A trending article recently, that someone was growing huge amounts of weed in a Greater Noida apartment is far more interesting than repeated talk on the Capital’s horrid pollution. Social conventions, perceived correctness, polite chitter chatter have their place, but too much of it guarantees mainly that one turns into a superficial bore.
It’s possible to spend a lifetime avoiding the discomfort zone, just treading on the surface of things. Most people make peace with their frustrations, grateful that things are not terrible, even if they’re not so great. It’s a practical coping strategy and there’s something to be said for blooming wherever you’re planted. After all, there’s no guarantee that discarding the average, whether it’s a career or a relationship, to chase some mythical utopia, will work out any better. But disengaging from the world, or closing yourself off to adventure carries the risk that a lifetime will feel tortuously long. Recall, the greatest anthem to existential ennui, Comfortably Numb was written when the song writers of Pink Floyd, David Gilmour and Roger Waters weren’t getting along at all. The lyrics, ‘There is no pain you are receding…’ point to a haunting resignation; but there’s a powerful reminder there somewhere that even if it took a monumental effort to wade through anger and tension, that’s what was required to create something truly exceptional.
The writer is director, Hutkay Films
There are easier ways to sow cunning discontent than to spend five years writing a 600-page book. 
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