DIFFERENT REGISTERS
Endless debate
C.S. LAKSHMI
LONG ago a well-known Tamil publisher had visited Delhi and he came to our university to meet my professor who was a friend of his. When I entered my professor's room for something, he introduced me to the publisher. "Why don't you write for us?" he asked. "Will you publish anything I write?" I asked. "So long as what you write is acceptable, I will publish it," he replied. Till today editors and publishers and a very strange mixture of readers who seem to be very sure of what women must not write decide what this "acceptable" thing is that women must write and what it is that they should refrain from writing.
In November Kalachuvadu organised a public meeting in the Bharati Hall to discuss the issue of what constitutes obscenity and who decides about it and about freedom of expression. It was a large crowd of men with some 20 women who formed the audience. Tamarai was one of the writers who spoke forcefully saying that women have the freedom to write what they want and that the time has come for the readers and other self-opinionated people to learn to read correctly. Poet Krishankini wrote a hard-hitting paper on men who comment on women's writings. Bharati Hall is a heritage kind of a hall restructured out of Bharati's old house. And so those who sit on the dais cannot hear what the person at the podium is speaking. Watching the deadpan faces of the audience did not give any clue as to what was being spoken. When one strained oneself to listen to the speaker one could make out that some important male writers were speaking in generalities. And so, in spite of the best of intentions, the meeting seemed to fizzle out even before it started. An ant was actively running up and down the mike and a bat was joyfully flying around the hall and in that heritage hall after a while all of us began to feel like fossils. And it was clear that what women can and cannot write would be debated for many more years to come.
Debating is one thing. But some kind-hearted men also want to tell us how to write. A few days ago I was invited to inaugurate a short story writing workshop for women who want to write in Kannada. Two well-known male writers were invited to talk to the aspiring writers. One of them ended his talk with the quote: A short story is like a mini skirt; it should be long enough to cover the thighs and short enough to excite. That he came armed with such words of wisdom seemed amazing considering the seriousness of the workshop. This was no time to joke, specially when the joke is a bad one aimed at women. But the writer seemed to think of this as good advice. He could not fathom why some of us wore a disgusted expression. Questions from the participants soon turned to the topic of sexuality. "Can one write the body? How does one write the body?" was a major question. The replies covered many important points to consider. When Akka Mahadevi wrote about the body she did not ask anybody if what she wrote was acceptable. Nor did she take anybody's advice when she found her clothes a burden to carry. When Lal Ded wrote about the body and at a point discarded her clothes she was not particularly worried about how the society would take it. If these women could give up their inhibitions, living in present times, one should not become vulnerable and inhibited.
The male writers, however, did not agree. One of them referred to a story on lesbianism written by a writer and he said that he was impressed with the story and was surprised that a woman could write so well on these matters. He also warned that women who dare to write differently would have to face the consequences. Some women who wrote in an autobiographical mode regarding this have suffered. The women have to wait till the society changes. "It would take some 10 more years to change," he said. At that point, I had to take the mike and say that these women cannot wait 10 years. They want to write now.
I don't know how the rest of the workshop went but the mini-skirt quote and the advice to wait for 10 more years to write the body really rankled. I thought of the bhajan in Guru Dutt's "Pyasa", where the lines go:
Come, my lover,
Hold me today
Heart's pain
And body's fire
Let it all cool down
I don't think one can wait even for one moment to write those lines, leave alone waiting for 10 years. Nor do I think that those who wait to write will ever write what they want to write. Unspoken and unwritten words always get buried and there is no resurrection.
C.S. Lakshmi is an independent researcher and a writer. She writes in Tamil under the pseudonym Ambai. She is the founder-trustee and director of SPARROW (Sound and Picture Archives for Research on Women).
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