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The book under review can roughly
be divided into two parts. The first deals with the works of
social scientists and historians who have made their presence
felt in the post-WWII era. The second, which is about modern
poets, playwrights and novelists, is likely to be of greater
interest to most readers. Talking of these writers, Sham Lal
says: "It is they, in contrast to social scientists, who
are primarily concerned with existential problems and seek
answers to questions which bug the more sensitive today, who
wonder why, even in affluent societies, people look so
distraught, personal reactions get so skewed and so many are
afflicted by ennui, and a sense of loneliness or of loss of
meaning."
In addition to
scores of incisive book reviews, "A Hundred
Encounters" contains memorable obituaries of Samuel
Beckett, Albert Camus, Octavio Paz, Boris Pasternak, Ernest
Hemingway, all Nobel laureates, and Herbert Marcuse. In a moving
tribute to Camus, Sham Lal writes: "We may quarrel with him
and in anger may even charge him with betrayal of the cause. All
the same we shall always cherish the memory of this lonely man
in whom both hope and despair were touched with poetry as well
as passion." Mourning the loss of Paz, who was a friend of
his, he says: "In his death, the world, with large parts of
it under the sway of moral cretins, has lost a sane voice
sensitive to the ignominy of a modernity gave berserk."
Written in a
lively, readable style, Sham Lal’s pieces reveal his lucidity
and erudition, besides his grave concern at a modernity gone
haywire. Though the perspective is unmistakably Indian,
objectivity never takes a back seat. If he comes down on Western
powers for their hegemonistic designs, he also does not spare
India, which he accuses of having "developed the knack of
importing all the problems afflicting the affluent
societies." The writer is very clear about the role of the
critic. In the introduction, he says: "He (the critic)
interrogates the writer and looks for answers in the text. It is
for him to point out where the author fumbles or takes refuge in
silence, evasion or ambiguity, and locate the points of tension
between his different selves." More often than not, he
manages to play this role to perfection.While most critics are
too overawed by literary icons to pick holes in their works,
Sham Lal is always on sure ground while taking on the
intellectual heavyweights. According to him, Erwin Schrödinger
‘‘only deepens the mystery by mixing up science and
philosophy rather badly’’; reading Jacques Derrida’s
"Spectres of Marx" he finds that there is something
spectral about the book itself, that the writer ‘‘never
comes to grips with the issues he raises’’. He is
particularly severe on Francis Fukuyama, whose "end of
history" declaration he dismisses as a sales gimmick.
This book can be an eye-opener
for all those who are smugly satisfied with the status quo,
provided they bother to read it and not just let it gather dust
in their showcase. It is an invitation to savour the work of an
exceptional man of letters who, though he must be pushing 90,
has not yet reached his creative menopause. One hopes he never
does.
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‘‘OH,
East is East, West is West and never the twain shall meet’’,
proclaimed Kipling. Much before satellite television invaded
our homes. Much before Sham Lal became a columnist. However,
while television — that chewing gum for the eyes and
sleeping pill for the intellect— has brought the West closer
by bombarding us with inane, feel-good images, Sham Lal has
done the job creatively by presenting profound, even
disturbing ideas.
