Shobhaa De | Sex, Religion, Politics & Army: Taboo At Lit Fests?

To reach Kasauli, one drives through three states (Haryana, Punjab and Himachal Pradesh) after landing in Chandigarh. To “outsiders”, this seems bizarre. But for Kasauli’s residents, the reality is still more bizarre. The two-hour drive from a spick-and-span airport, up the mountainous, hazardous, narrow road that leads to Kasauli, is an eye-opener for trusting and wary first-timers to this charming colonial hill station created by the British, for the British, back in 1850.

I was headed there for the 14th edition of the Khushwant Singh Lit Fest, after skipping a few. Seven years on, little had changed along the route, apart from ugly “resorts” that had proliferated, cutting into picturesque hills and destroying acres of pine and Deodhar forests that were once the main attraction for retired desi brigadiers, still longing for the “Koi Hai” comforts of old.

Kasauli is a world in itself, controlled and overrun by the notorious Kasauli monkeys, aggressive enough to grab food from sturdy grown men with lathis. Locals warn: It’s best to throw away whatever eatables you are carrying than take on these monkeys. Well, these armies of simians aren’t the only fierce monkeys around. There are enough two-legged ones, to make city folks nervous.

Despite these challenges, Kasauli is attracting Dilliwallas in droves: well-heeled arms dealers with shady reputations promoting fancy villas as investment opportunities. I fear for Kasauli. For decades it was a genteel, gentrified getaway for geriatrics looking for the good life amidst sylvan surroundings. Unfortunately, loud Panjus are muscling their way into this serene destination, eyeing highly-coveted real estate, and behaving like those Mall monkeys on the rampage.

Talking to shop owners and other stakeholders in and around the mall, one discovers a few significant changes. The popular Tibetan Market doesn’t exist. But the old signage does. The once vibrant Tibetan community is invisible today. Apparently, the Army wasn’t very happy about their continued presence. Given Kasauli’s strategic location, the strong fauji numbers are hard to miss. It’s bristling with Army brass, being a heavily military-influenced area, administered by a Cantonment Board, now headed by CEO Himanshu Samant. On a clear day it’s possible to get a glimpse of Kashmir from the historic Kasauli Club, founded in 1880.

Chandigarh-wallahs refuse to take any chances when they drive up for the LitFest -- they hire armed guards, insisting the roads are unsafe. Given the Wild West situation in Haryana and Punjab, it’s best to err on the side of caution, as my good friend confided, after sharing hair-raising stories of aggro behaviour of burly bullies out to intimidate single, unescorted women. There is much that’s going on in this part of our country, that remains under wraps. In the past editions of the KS LitFest, one heard unfiltered, strong voices of powerful opinion shapers freely discussing and debating national concerns. Not anymore. Conversations at most lit fests have turned stilted, muted, self- conscious and self-censored. Unfortunately, I missed former Army Chief Gen. M.M. Naravane’s session on his new book. His unreleased memoir Four Stars of Destiny has been waiting for the Central government’s approval for over a year.

The general candidly states it was his job to write the book, but getting approvals from the defence ministry was the publisher’s responsibility. Meanwhile, his fictional work, Cantonment Conspiracy: A Military Thriller, was avidly discussed at the lit fest, with Rear Adm. Nirmala Kannan (Retd) leading the session.

Apparently, the much-awaited memoir that has yet to see the light of day contains sensitive revelations about military operations and government policies. The general refused to get drawn into the controversy, and stuck to repeating: "The ball is in the court of the publisher and MoD.”

My own session was a complete riot! I enjoyed it thoroughly, as did the audience. Even though 10.30 am was too early a time to discuss sensuality/sexuality, and a special session should have been created at 10.30 pm, there was record attendance braving the strong glare and unusual heat. The venue was overflowing, to my delight. An 89-year-old gentleman from the audience was determined to discuss the “Big O” (orgasm), frequently pointing out he was not referring to “organism”. It took a while to calm him down! There were earnest schoolkids in the audience, and I didn’t want their teachers to demand ear plugs from Niloufer Billimoria or Rahul Singh -- the dynamic duo behind the lit fest.

Politics, sex, religion and military topics are endangered subjects at lit fests across India. Despite the attempts to curb, inhibit and curtail such dialogues, I was vastly amused when a former diplomat from Pakistan (a regular at KS Lit Fests in the past), sent me a WhatsApp message a few hours after my rambunctious session designed around my new book The Sensual Self: An Exploration of Love, Sex and Romance, saying he had relished the lively session. How the hell did he know what had transpired while he was relaxing at his Lahore home? He sent a laughing emoji and naughtily shared that our guys on both sides of the border haven’t yet figured out how to block live streaming! How deliciously wicked!

Back in Mumbai, I started following the viral story of a 10-year-old little boy called Ishit Bhatt whose cheeky interactions with the legendary Amitabh Bachchan on Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC Junior) had landed him in boiling water on social media platforms. That Mr Bachchan conducted himself the way he did, faced with the boy’s bratty attitude, is in itself a masterclass in maturity, displaying enormous presence of mind. The real question is not about the kid’s insolence, but our response to it. Ishit was labelled the “most hated kid on the Internet” and savagely mauled and trolled across platforms. The cyber-bullying is still on. I was puzzled by the boy’s hyper behaviour myself, and seriously bugged, till I watched a reel by a doctor who suggested the child could be suffering from ADS (Attention Deficit Syndrome). If so, should parents push kids to participate in such shows where participants face either excessive adulation or exaggerated hate? Can any child handle such pressure, and emerge emotionally unscathed? What happens to this Class 5 kid from Gandhinagar once he gets back home? Will losing in that critical KBC round damage his psyche permanently? Reality shows are harsh enough for adults; but grown-ups can make their own independent choices. It’s kids who are thrust into the spotlight, who need our support and understanding.

Happy Diwali, readers. Let the new year be filled with sparklers and patakas. Time to go “Thamma Thamma”!