A pen drive of stupendous capacity, thought Ravi Inder Singh of the Jaipur Literature Festival. The fecund air at the venue felt as warm as the smell of fresh print…
WITH INPUTS FROM TWINKLE GODHWANI | Issue Dated: February 7, 2010 Tags :
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Our earliest manuscripts could be traced back to the Stone Age when rocks and leaves proved to be the equivalent of the ‘hard’ disk of our times. Today, as the Nooks, e-books and Kindles rekindle reading interests, there presumably isn’t half as much joy as curling up in a hammock with a hardbound, whatever Sirji may think of it. But at the fifth edition of the Jaipur Literature Festival in the desert state, this debate was just not the point. Literary nirvana awaited all: from the purists who love their dog-eared “Catch-22”, to the Amazon customer with the “Midnight’s Children” e-book.
Language and literature have come a long way and so have its legends. Case in point when director and co-founder of the festival, William Dalrymple, reminds us, “For Indian literature and writing in English, there was an extraordinary generation in the 1980s with world-class writers such as Amitav Ghosh, Vikram Seth, Salman Rushdie…and then there was a bit of a gap for around ten years when you didn’t have writers of the same stature. Now you’ve got Arvind Adiga, Kiran Desai… but I’m not too sure if the younger generation can quite match the ambition of the writers of the 80s.” Has the time of timeless literature passed?
Not that it felt so in the company of literary luminaries like Dalrymple, Niall Ferguson, Roberto Calasso, Amit Chaudhuri, Vikram Chandra, Claire Tomalin, Michael Frayn, Mahasweta Devi, Krishna Sobti, Steve Coll to name just a few, at the festival. There in the middle of the ‘write’ crowd, I found myself closer to the aura and motivations of a writer than ever before. And more real than one can discern from reading them. Not many of those books you possess, with luscious prose and dried dandelions between its folds, will reveal all of the struggle that the authors had to contend with two separate observations from imagination, experiential travails from vicarious thrills. Possibly it is this ‘sharing’ – to whatever extent – that endears them to their readers. But as numbers and sales come into the picture, it may be speculated that in the present day scenario the main focus may have shifted from passion to being more market savvy. Does the author’s creativity then get influenced or even doctored to pander to market sentiments? “Mostly what sells…!” suggests Rahul Bose. Prasoon Joshi however begs to differ, “Novelty sells… freshness sells… It’s the passion 100 per cent. If it’s going to be about what sells, I don’t think an author will get good stuff. It has to be your passion, your urge to share what you feel and think. And that’s what it is! It can’t be the market.” Even the poet wizard Gulzar saab heartily affirms, “I definitely think it’s their (writer’s) passion…and then look for a market to spread it.”
At the Jaipur LitFest, an event that is now Asia’s biggest, there seemed to be no dearth of either: talent – earnest and effusive, and a ‘market’ waiting to lap up every word, spoken and written. And why not, for books broaden your horizon and lead one into the world of fascinating facts and remote accounts without so much as adding to the carbon footprint. Besides, with many of these carbon-related concepts coming under fire, we are only too happy to expand our literary footprint. The increasing number of footfalls at the Jaipur LitFest is well poised to do just that.