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Here is a boom in literature festivals all over the country from Jaipur to Thiruvananthapuram; from Mussoorie to Mumbai; from Bokaro to Kolkata. But what does literature have to do with festivals? This is a question that purists are asking. They hold that literature is the child of grave solitude in both its creation and in its consumption. William Wordsworth’s famous definition of poetry —"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility"— they feel, holds good for all literature. That Wordsworth’s own land is leading in a never-exhausting list of world literary festivals is another matter. In India, where births, marriages, religion, seasons, music, dance and more are reasons for a well-linked chain of festivals the year round, literary festivals still cause many an intellectual eyebrow to be raised, because of their novelty, perhaps. The uninviting book fairs, gauche akademi meets, scantily-attended readings or tedious seminars were something we were used to, but this whole razzmatazz of the literati has been a bit unnerving. The festival firang co-director William Dalrymple complicates things more with his off-the-cuff statements to the media saying, "We are a lot of fun." However, with every passing year, there are more converts for the cause and this trend is here to stay in spite of a controversy or two over Vikram Seth sipping wine on the stage or mullahs prompting the endless chime of: "Will Rushdie come or will he not!"
Of course, it all began with the success of the Jaipur extravaganza, which literally grew by leaps and bounds in five years from 100-odd people in 2008 to an amazing 50,000 in 2011. Who knows how many more attend this time! To some, most irksome is the Raj nostalgia accusation, to others the touristy representation of the exotic India is unsavoury, yet others find the glitz and glamour too much to take. However, bloggers continue to vie with one another sharing their views and telling first-person accounts of what Tina Brown of The Daily Beast describes as "The Greatest Literary Show on Earth!" While Dalrymple is pleased over the fact that "authors have become the new celebrities in India", courtesy the festival, of course, co-director for the Indian section, novelist Namita Gokhale, points out: "The festival has succeeded in creating a new and young line of readers, and this indeed spells hope for literature in the future." However, when we speak of "hope", we must know what the "hopelessness" is, as far as literature goes. In times when the satellite television rules all supreme, reading and readership has declined. Literature has taken a beating in comparison to performing and visual arts. Though in the 1970s, literature was an inseparable part of socio-political movements, the writer-reader divide has widened. It takes a Booker or Pulitzer Prize, at least for an average person, to know about a writer. Even the once prestigious Sahitya Akademi and the most-coveted Jnanpith Award do not create a wide stir.
The Jaipur success has led to a number of festivals coming up. The Hay Festival is two years’ old in Kerala, and Mumbai has followed suit with Literature Live Festival conceptualised by Anil Dharkar. Kolkata, famous for its annual book fair, now has the Apeejay Kolkata Literary Festival. The Winter Literary Festival at Mussourie is catching on, as is the Spring Fever Festival being organised by Penguin India in Delhi. Bokaro is hosting a Children’s Literature Festival and young writers have initiated the Samanvay Literature Festival of Indian Languages, held last December in Delhi. Interestingly, diplomat-writer Pawan Varma, a regular in Jaipur, took the concept to Bhutan and now there is the Mountain Echoes Literature Festival of Bhutan in summers. Publishers, media houses, corporate houses, literary foundations, and sometimes the government, are backing this new literary enterprise. This should make writers happy, but often ideology comes in the way. The leading Left-wing Hindi poet Mangalesh Dabral initially accepted the Jaipur invite but opted out at the last minute. "The market-driven activity was not something that I could relate to. Sitting and reciting my poems written against the open market, yet another form of colonisation, on a state sponsored by a fizzy drink was something I could not bring myself to do." A younger writer of Hindi, Satyanand Nirupam, one of the architects of Samanavy, counters this argument by saying: "It is important to condemn the negative aspects of the market. But if there is no market, then where is the need to publish books? Utilising the market to spread ideas or knowledge is absolutely valid." Linking literature festivals to places of international tourist interest is yet another strategy — Jaipur, Kerala and an aborted effort in Kashmir last year. Well, crowds have to be pulled, now when the high art stance of serious versus the popular no longer exists, any which way.
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Celebrated Malayali
fiction writer N. S. Madhavan, a participant in Jaipur festival, says:
"Primarily, literature festivals are designed for readers. My
experience of the Hay Festival in Thiruvananthapuram and Kovalam
Literrary Festival in Kerala shows that the endeavour is playing a
positive role in bringing readers closer to the writers.
De-mystification of literature is a healthy sign and writers can no
longer be content with their ivory tower." If the very literate
readership of Kerala needs the stimulus of a festival or two, then
other regions would need more!