“Languages belong to regions, not to religions,” Javed Akhtar once said in an interview. The veracity of this statement cannot be debated. Recently, West Bengal Urdu Academy, in its infinite wisdom, called off a seminar on Urdu due to the participation of this “shaitaan, kaafir” (their words, not mine) and managed to shoot itself in the foot while gaining some heavenly brownie points. I’m probably not the only one who would like to ask the Academy a few questions regarding l’affaire Javed Akhtar, so here goes.
In the first place, it would be straining credulity to believe that everyone there was oblivious to Javed saheb’s oft-repeated and vociferous opinions about the dangers of religious fundamentalism. But he hasn’t, as far as I know, recently said anything incendiary enough to warrant such a hostile reaction from “true believers”. Yet the vituperation against him was staggering, certainly not in the finest traditions of a civilised language. The people who spoke on behalf of the Academy only revealed their blinkered natures. Is it really unthinkable that the green-eyed monster could be gnawing at the breasts of some “holier than thou-s” on the committee who made this decision? Unthinkable! Perish the thought!
Ok, then. Is it possible that this abrupt and baffling cancellation happened not only to gain attention, but to deliberately insult an erudite, incisively original and encyclopaedically knowledgeable person, just for the fun of it? It certainly seems like it. Apart from an easy familiarity with innumerable subjects, Javed saheb’s awareness of the Bombay film industry and Urdu literature, its history, growth, usage and future, is truly unmatched. He has made no bones, ever, about his beliefs. So, if the Academy was aware that it was dealing with an iconoclast, why was he even invited in the first place? Something definitely smells rotten here.
The Academy’s reasons for the cancellation are specious enough to be laughable. It obviously considers Urdu the solitary domain of Muslims who are faithful believers in Islamic theology. It’s probably not necessary to remind them what the most commonly spoken languages in undivided Punjab were, and of course, still are, in the northern part. In that portion of Punjab that remains with us, the most widely circulated newspaper even now is in the Urdu script. Does the Academy, which presumably was established for the proliferation, appreciation and spread of Urdu, realise the harm it has done to itself by this act, which will only reinforce the belief that Urdu is, if not foreign, then a language spoken by Muslims, and only good Muslims at that? I really wish members of a “certain community” who were offended would realise that Akhtar’s salvation or damnation is his problem, not theirs. This act of the Academy could well alienate the remaining few who wish to learn Urdu: “Why learn it? It’s their language after all!” Do we really need a further division between the two certified “offence-taking” communities than the one already in place? Must blind faith be the only passport to Urdudom?
The contention that Javed saheb’s atheism is the cause for the cancellation holds no water at all. His alleged embrace of “Vande Mataram”, “Bharat Mata ki jai” and “criticism of Islam” cannot be weaponised against him. His criticism has more to do with the self-appointed guardians of the religion than the religion itself. In fact, he dismisses all religions. And there’s nothing wrong with respecting your motherland. Are only those who believe in God blessed enough to be able to contribute to society? What connection on Earth or in heaven does one’s learning have to do with the almighty? Bertrand Russell was a self-proclaimed atheist as well, so should all his writings be consigned to the flames? Would George Bernard Shaw be roasting in the eternal fire for poking fun at the ideas of heaven and hell?
One has to wonder if the disapproval extends to Munshi Premchand as well — he didn’t believe in Islam — and what about Sardar Rajinder Bedi or Firaq Gorakhpuri or Saadat Hasan Manto? They were hardly “believers”, so presumably these matchless Urdu writers, if still alive, would also be prevented from voicing their opinions by the West Bengal Urdu Academy. Does belief in your holy book negate the lifelong fascination with and study of Urdu by, for example, people like the Irish Catholic professor Victor Kiernan, an Urdu and Farsi scholar, or Gopichand Narang, who, unless he kept it a closely guarded secret, as far as I know, was definitely not Muslim.
The list of non-Muslim Urdu writers and poets who contributed to the growth of Urdu is as long as one’s arm; if it weren’t, would we have had immortals in the past like Jagan Nath Azad or Brij Narayan Chakbast, to name only two, who would talk of a blending of and harmony between faiths, and draw a truthful picture of their times? Or even a patron of the language like Munshi Nawal Kishore? Or a Gulzar, with whom breathing the same air is a privilege? Speaking of Gulzar saheb brings to mind another non-conformist — Ghalib, whose fondness for alcohol and aversion to bargaining with God through prayer are legend. What about him? It might not be a bad idea for the West Bengal Urdu Academy to cancel any recitation of his poetry as well. After all, he was blasphemous enough to say, “Hum ko maaloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat lekin/ Dil ke khush rakhne ko Ghalib ye khayaal achha hai.”
The writer is an actor and author
