Revisiting History, Ethnicity and Myth in Literature
International Conference
Amity University Rajasthan, Jaipur
19-20 October 2023
History in the
Future Tense: Revisiting Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq
Nibir K. Ghosh
(Keynote Address)
“God, what’s the
country coming to?” This exclamatory statement could very well be taken to be
the lament of any ordinary Indian citizen in the contemporary context. But,
amazingly, it is a statement uttered by an old man at the very outset of Girish
Karnad’s Tughlaq. The scene is the
yard in front of the Chief Court of Justice in Delhi. The year 1327 A.D. Seven
centuries later, disillusionment still seems to be a factor which unifies the
reign of Muhammad-bin-Tughlaq with that of postcolonial India caught in the
vortex of endless crisis.
Girish Karnad (1938-2019), playwright, film-maker, actor
and recipient of Padma Bhushan and Jnanpith awards, published Tughlaq in
Kannada in 1964. Karnad was inspired to choose a historical theme by Kirtinath
Kurtakoti, Kannada writer and critic, who pointed out to Karnad that there were
no plays based on historical themes in Kannada literature akin to Caesar and
Cleopatra and Saint Joan by George Bernard Shaw in English. Anantha
Murthy attributes the reason for Tughlaq’s
appeal to the Indian audience to the fact that “it is a play of the sixties and
reflects as no other play perhaps does the political mood of disillusionment
which followed the Nehru era of idealism in the country” (vii-viii).
“History,”
says E. H. Carr, “is a series of accepted judgments” but “facts and documents
by themselves do not constitute history” (Carr 19). Tughlaq offers a veritable link between received history and its
relevance in the contemporary frame of reference. Karnad’s
protagonist in the play is a faithful portrait and profile of the ruler as
projected in Tarikh-i-Firoz-Shahi by
Zia-ud-din Barani, who figures in the play as both historian and interpreter. It is significant that Karnad’s play offers useful insights
into the inter-textual connection between history, historiography and the
creative mind of the artist to reveal how a historical narrative related to the
society of the past can serve as a key to the understanding of the present.
Girish Karnad’s
essential concern in the play revolves around Tughlaq who was not only the “most
idealistic, the most intelligent king ever to come on the throne of Delhi,
including the Mughals…(but) one of the greatest failure also” (in
Paul 3). The story of the meteoric rise of a monarch endowed with
visionary idealism and the subsequent decline and downfall of this tremendously
capable man within a span of twenty years provided Karnad with an excellent
backdrop against which he could portray, project and foreground the discourse of
visionary politics, the politics of demagoguery, the socio-cultural ethos
governing fundamentalist ideologies and the crisis of a secular nationhood.
In his
“Introduction” to Karnad’s play, U. R. Anantha Murthy rightly avers that
the elusive and haunting quality of the play comes from “the ambiguities of
Tughlaq’s character” related to “philosophical questions on the nature of man
and the destiny of a whole kingdom which a dreamer like him controls” (Tughlaq
vii-ix).
By analyzing the
fateful events of Tughlaq’s times in the context of post-1960s India, Karnad
presents a moving parable of political idealism gone awry whose relevance would
continue in the country’s timeless existence. The manner in which Karnad has
amalgamated the political significance of Tughlaq’s reign with his aesthetic
and emotional response to an Emperor who felt that he alone had the correct
answer shows Karnad’s ingenuity in presenting historical truth beyond the
limits of an academic landscape.
Karnad makes
judicious use of Barani’s account to recreate the paradoxical Tughlaq of
history. Endowed with infinite powers of body and mind,
Tughlaq stands out as the wisest and the most foolish Muslim ruler of India. Tughlaq’s
extraordinary generosity to his subjects and his ruthlessness in getting rid of
the evil doers by putting thousands to death on the slightest suspicion seems a
difficult trapeze-balancing act.
In the opening
scene of the play we find Muhammad Tughlaq expressing his delight and
satisfaction over the manner in which justice works in his kingdom “without any
consideration of might or weakness, religion or creed” (3). His dream is to
perpetuate “greater justice, equality, progress and peace—not just peace but a
more purposeful life” (3). Continuing in his vein of idealism he announces that
to achieve this noble end he has decided to shift the capital of his empire
from Delhi to Daulatabad. His rationale for such a decision is that “Daulatabad
is city of the Hindus and as the capital it will symbolize the bond between
Muslims and Hindus which he wishes to develop and strengthen in his kingdom”
(4). Known the world over for his knowledge of
philosophy and poetry, Karnad’s protagonist, like his historical prototype,
experiences a thrill in imagining the creation of a new world which he intends
to rule not with the power of the scepter in the style of a Muslim
fundamentalist tyrant but by emulating the visionary idealism of the Greeks,
Zarathustra, and the Buddha. Inspired by the Chinese use of paper currency,
Tughlaq introduces copper currency in his kingdom, a scheme that ends in total
failure because of his lack of far-sight in not anticipating its futility in
terms of economic consequences.
Characters like
Sheikh Imam-ud-din and Sheikh Shihab-ud-din and even Barani deeply appreciate
how Tughlaq has done a lot of good work—built schools, hospitals, made good use
of the money (31) but they tell him that he must use all that God has
given—“power, learning, intelligence, talent” to “repay his debt” by spreading
“Islam round the world” (20) instead of trying to become ‘another God’. As his
dreams of ruling by the power of benevolence, justice and impartiality lie
shattered, the philosopher king soon turns into a cruel tyrant. Unable to
sustain his ideology of goodness for long, Tughlaq slides into the morass of
despotism. He proudly celebrates his right to slaughter people, to be known by
his beloved subjects as “Mad Muhammad” and as “Lord of Skins.” He does not
hesitate in asserting that “Not words but the sword—that’s all I have to keep
my faith in my mission” (66).
The naivety of
Tughlaq becomes apparent in his failure to realize how even in his reign
religion is inextricably linked to politics. At the beginning of the play we
find the Announcer informing the crowd of people how Vishnu Prasad, a Brahmin
of Shiknar, has won his suit against the Sultan himself and has received just
compensation for the loss of his land which had been seized illegally by the
officers of the State. In upholding the claim of Vishnu Prasad against his own
authority, Tughlaq feels elated to see how he can dispense justice in his
kingdom irrespective of considerations of might, religion or creed. Shortly
after, we are informed that Vishnu Prasad is none else than Aziz, a low caste
Muslim washerman who, masquerading as a poor Hindu Brahmin litigant, succeeds
in exploiting Tughlaq’s concept of justice and impartiality. Interestingly,
Aziz confesses to his friend Aazam that he chose to masquerade as a poor Hindu
Brahmin simply because “a Muslim plaintiff against a Muslim king” (8) would not
synchronize with the Sultan’s idea of impartial justice.
Through the
various utterances of Aziz, Girish Karnad skillfully portrays the relevance of
what, in contemporary parlance, we call politics and diplomacy. Aziz tells
Aazam:
You have been in Delhi for so many years and you are as stupid as ever.
Look at me. Only a few months in Delhi and I have discovered a whole new world.
Politics.-- My dear fellow, that's where our future is -- politics. It's
a beautiful world -- wealth, success, position, power -- and yet it is
full of brainless people, people with not an idea in their head. When I
think of all the tricks I used in our village to pinch a few torn clothes from
people -- if one uses half that intelligence here, one can get robes of power..
-- it's a fantastic World. (50)
In order to be successful in politics, Aziz offers the reader/audience a
prudent recipe that is as relevant today as it was in the reign of Tughlaq:
A man must commit a crime at least once in his lifetime. Only then will
his virtue be recognised. Listen. If you remain virtuous throughout your life
no one will say a good thing about you because they won't need to. But
start stealing -- and they will say: 'What a nice boy he was but he is ruined
now.' Then kill and they will beat their breasts and say: 'Heavens! He was only
a petty thief all these days. Never hurt anyone. But Alas! Then rape a woman
and the chorus will go into hallelujahs: He was a saint and look at him now.'
Aziz doesn’t stop at that. He logically spells out his
long-term goals: “You rob a man, you run, and hide. It's so pointless. One
should be able to rob a man and stay there to punish him for getting robbed.
That's called ‘class’ – that’s being a real king” (58).
In Tughlaq’s rule
it was possible for ordinary mortals like Aziz to exploit the politics of
communalism to gain a stretch of land and to manage a post in the civil service
“to ensure him a regular and adequate income” (3). In contemporary India the
likes of Aziz may exploit similar situations to reach the apex in the pyramid
of power. With a little astuteness it has become possible to use religion or
caste in controlling the nerve centres of power. It is little surprising that
even today elections in India can be won or lost on purely communal or caste
lines. Money and muscle power are vital supplements for acquiring power. If one
has a proven criminal record, he is bound to be respected and worshipped by his
followers.
While advocating
the secular cause, Tughlaq never seemed to have realized that his idealism
would set him up against the Amirs, the Ulema, and the Sayyids who did not
appreciate the ruler’s lack of fundamentalism in approaching the holy Koran. Tughlaq wanted to command by the
power of trust and understanding but the vitiated atmosphere of a court
dominated by the communalization of politics makes him ask Barani sadly: “Are
all those I trust condemned to go down in history as traitors? Tell me…will my
reign be nothing more than a tortured scream which will stab the night and melt
away in the silence?” (43). The ruler who began with the “hopes of building a
new future of India” has learnt to solve “all problems in the flash of a
dagger” (42). Tughlaq’s act of shifting his capital from Delhi to Daulatabad
and back again to Delhi suggests the tragic attributes of his nemesis.
Tughlaq’s attempt
to propagate communal harmony between Hindus and Muslims may be an excellent
recipe for the symptomatic malaise of both fourteenth century and contemporary
India, but such notions of harmony were then, as are now, nothing but
transcripts of utopian dreams. The seeds of disorder afflicting society on
communal lines seem to have been sown centuries ago. Nurtured and nourished by
mutual hatred and violence, these seeds of dissent ultimately led to the
partition of the subcontinent, the after-effects of which can be witnessed at
regular intervals, be it a scene of a riot or an India-Pakistan match in a
stadium.
The play also
tells us that the introduction of religion into politics to secure power over
the masses by arousing their political consciousness appears to have become a
dominating factor in the game of power politics. The contemporaneity of
Karnad’s play emerges from his identification of the variables and the
constants which have controlled the power equation ironically in the world’s
largest democracy. Through a series of events Karnad shows how power, once
rooted, is not easily shaken. Once a demagogue fails in transforming power into
authority, the waning consent of the governed compels the demagogue to assume
the role of a cruel and relentless despot. Tughlaq takes recourse to methods of
coercion to legitimize the power that he wields.
Tughlaq emerges as
a shrewd politician who has learnt the art of transforming every adverse
situation to his advantage. He invites the charismatic religious leader
Imam-ud-din to address a public meeting and gives him the freedom of denouncing
the policies of Tughlaq in public. The act may appear to exemplify Tughlaq’s
courage and integrity in allowing freedom of expression to prevail in his
kingdom. This façade of impartiality and supreme objectivity comes to the fore
when we learn in the play that his soldiers have been sent from door to door to
prevent them from attending the said meeting.
Tughlaq’s tragic
tale is symptomatic of the inherited complex problems of Indian society. Time
and again it has been proved that mere idealism, unrelated to the understanding
of the times, cannot by itself help in reaching visionary heights. The ever-increasing
criminalization of politics characterized by the power of might over right is
indicative of the failure of ideals that the freedom fighters had envisaged for
the country. The play also goes on to show how hard measures imperative to the
progress of the nation can never find acceptance with either the players of the
power game or with the common populace. Rampant corruption has made the ideals
of honesty anachronistic. In a society poised between secular and
fundamentalist ideologies, the parameters of Tughlaq’s world bear close
resemblance to the discourse of the Indian political and culture experience
despite there being essential differences between the characteristic features
of the fourteenth century and that of modern India.
In conclusion, it
may be accepted that Karnad’s powerful play rightly reminds us of what George
Santayana warned us about in 1905: “Those
who cannot
remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
Thank
You!
Revisiting History, Ethnicity and Myth in Literature
Nibir K. Ghosh
Guest of Honour Valedictory Note
History
In a Paris Review interview Chinua Achebe referred to an old African proverb that says,
“Until the lions have their own historians, histories of the hunt
will glorify the hunter.” In the same interview, Achebe said that storytelling "is
something we have to do, so that the story of the hunt will also reflect the
agony, the travail—the bravery, even, of the lions."
“The
study of history is a study of causes,” says E. H. Carr in his iconic book What
is History and adds that the great historian or the great thinker “is the
one who asks the question ‘Why?’ about new things or in new contexts.” I am
sure most of us are familiar with concepts like ‘Erasure’, ‘Bleaching’ or
‘whitening’ of History that form the lexicon of contemporary discourse. It is
necessary to revisit History and ask questions rather than take things, events
and opinions for granted.
Ethnicity
For substantiating the contemporary significance of ethnicity, I
would like to share two instances. One relates to the event in which a French policeman shot and killed Nahel Merzouk, a
17-year-old boy at a traffic checkpoint in Nantarre, a suburb of Paris
resulting in widespread riots in France and other countries. According to the
testimony of Nahel’s beloved mother, the police officer who shot him "saw
an Arab face, a little kid, and wanted to take his life." The Nahel incident brings to our mind a similar event in Minneapolis, Minnesota where
George Floyd, a Black man, was murdered by Derek Chauvin, a 44-year-old white
police officer, on 25 May 2020. In this context of ethnicity issues, the recent
saga of Manipur burning is again no exception.
Myth
Writers have always been fascinated by the remoteness, mystery
and heroism of myths. Carl Gustav Jung has stated that the materials of myths
lie in the collective unconscious of the race. Inspired by the myth embedded in
Oedipus Rex by Sophocles, written 2500 years ago, Sigmund
Freud revolutionised human thought by coining what is now universally known as
the Oedipus complex.
Similarly, Prometheus the Greek
god, who was chained to a rock for helping mankind with fire, has been the
source of inspiration for numerous works of immortal fame. A case in point is
Christopher Nolan’s film Oppenheimer
that is based on the biography of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the American theoretical
physicist credited with being the "father of the atomic bomb,” entitled American
Prometheus: jointly authored by Kai Baird and Martin J.
Sherwin in 2005.
Literature
“An unexamined life is not worth living” said Socrates at his
trial, a task for which he was punished to die by drinking the hemlock. I
believe that nothing helps us examine life as literature does. Therefore, as
writers, academics, scholars and researchers it is incumbent upon each one of
us to meaningfully apply ourselves to take forward the ideas and approaches
provided by this successful international conference. To those who doubt the
efficacy of literature in transforming lives at a critical time like the one we
live in, I would like to share a statement by Salman Rushdie:
“A poem cannot stop a bullet. A novel can’t
defuse a bomb. But we are not helpless. We can sing the truth and name the
liars.”
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