For almost a week, comedian Kunal Kamra has made the headlines with his “gaddar (traitor)” reference to Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde, which led Shiv Sainiks to vandalise the studio where Kamra had performed his stand-up act. This has raised questions about the right to free speech, the tolerance levels of those in the public space today, and how the aggrieved should address their grievances.
Over the decades, politicians of different hues, including Prime Ministers, have had to deal with being lampooned. While no politician likes criticism, “criticism is the soul of democracy”, as Prime Minister Narendra Modi put it in a recent podcast. And those in public life know they have to lump it if democracy has to remain meaningful.
Of all the Indian PMs, Jawaharlal Nehru was perhaps the most tolerant of criticism. Aruna Asaf Ali used to tell this story about how, when an MP once accused Pandit Nehru of being a dictator, he retorted, ”I hope I am not a dictator, but if I am, I must be a very bad one.” What Nehru meant was that an MP openly levelling such an accusation against him proved either that he was not a dictator or was a bad one.
When R K Laxman published a cartoon in 1962 during the India-China War, poking fun at him, Nehru rang up the cartoonist and said, “I so enjoyed your cartoon this morning. Can I have a signed, enlarged copy to frame?”
Indira Gandhi was a powerful PM, and the Congress under her would often raise the bogey of America’s CIA for the country’s woes. One day, Swatantra Party MP Piloo Mody, a relentless critic of the government, walked into Parliament wearing a placard around his neck that read, “I am a CIA agent.” It was like cocking a snook at the PM who burst out laughing, recall old-timers.
On one occasion, Rajiv Gandhi took a dig at the Communists, saying that while they claimed to be disciples of Karl Marx, they behaved more like the followers of Groucho Marx, a famous American comedian in the last century. It did not please the Communists, but they took it in their stride.
Atal Behari Vajpayee also often rode a storm with a smile. When he was the Minister of External Affairs in Morarji Desai’s Cabinet (1977-79), one of the Jana Sangh MPs read out a couplet accusing Vajpayee of duplicitous behaviour. “Kaise teerandaz ho ki chilman se lage baithe ho, chhupte bhi nahin, saamne aate bhi nahin (what kind of an archer are you that you are sitting close to the curtain but you are neither hiding nor coming forward),” the MP said, according to journalists who covered that period. Though stung, a smiling Vajpayee chose to respond with a light-hearted comment.
Normally, politicians are known to take themselves too seriously. Both P V Narasimha Rao and Vishwanath Pratap Singh showed they could take a dig at themselves, displaying a wry humour. When someone told VP he had scored a great goal by implementing the Mandal Commission’s recommendations on reservation for Other Backward Classes in government jobs, VP remarked, “Goal kar diya par taang toot gayi (I scored the goal but broke my leg).” The decision eventually led to the fall of his government.
Days after the demolition of the Babri Masjid in December 1992, when Rao was told by those who met him to stop worrying about the full stops and commas in his speech, the then PM said, “Kya karoon, sari umar clerk hi toh raha hoon (What can I do? All my life I have been a clerk)?”
The Chief Minister of Bihar for over seven years, and often under attack, Rashtriya Janata Dal chief Lalu Prasad is also known for his sense of humour. A few years ago, he sat in the front row of a function, laughing away, as a comic on the stage mimicked him to perfection. Mimicking Vajpayee — his pregnant pauses, his gestures while speaking, his turn of phrase — was also something MPs liked to do at an annual event the Lok Sabha Speaker used to host in the years gone by. And old-timers recall the bonhomie that existed, even amongst political opponents, back then.
Why humour is important in politics
Humour has a way of softening the sharp edges created by political differences. A classic example of humour in politics is the annual White House Correspondents’ dinner in Washington, DC, where a stand-up “roasts” the President and the President, in turn, takes digs at the journalists present — all done in good spirit.
In the Indian context, as political personalities from Nehru to Vajpayee showed, leaders at one point in time could often take jokes cracked at their expense. Whatever the response, FIRs, defamation suits, and vandalism were generally not the norm. These leaders knew that swallowing the bitter pill of criticism was an integral part of public life.
Today, political leaders have to face even rougher waters given the nature and enormous reach of social media. No PM or Leader of the Opposition in the past had to face the kind of abuse dished out to Narendra Modi or Rahul Gandhi. But it is also true that politicians — and this includes the state satraps of different parties — have grown much more intolerant of criticism.
Humour, undoubtedly, can be a devastating medium of communication, and any criticism will hurt somebody or the other. Instead of an FIR, Eknath Shinde could have got another creative comedian to counter the lines sung by Kamra to poke fun at him. Speaking truth to power, as he sees it, is Kamra’s right, even if the other side sees him as partisan. And in a democracy as raucous as India’s — and confident, one hopes — there must be space for humour, satire, and parody.
(Neerja Chowdhury, Contributing Editor, The Indian Express, has covered the last 11 Lok Sabha elections. She is the author of How Prime Ministers Decide)
Comedian Kunal Kamra. 
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