PORTRAIT OF AN UNAFRAID WOMAN
A reminder of lapses in India’s recent history, Illiberal India also looks at the individual behind the persona that Gauri Lankesh has become since her death
The day Gauri Lankesh was assassinated was the first time I heard of her. A child when she reported for the Times of India, I did not mourn her individual death. Instead it felt like the death of an idea, or ideals. How did India become so debased that its citizens are gunned down for disagreeing with the majority? Slowly and with impunity says Illiberal India, Chidanand Rajghatta’s tribute to his ex-wife and lifelong friend. Illiberal India is as much an intimate look at the woman behind the persona that Lankesh has become since her death as it is a reminder that India’s history as “Outragistan” paved the road towards its present state of “Lynchistan.” A memoir of sorts about Lankesh’s life, Rajghatta’s remembrances of her are poignant and present a portrait of a passionate, unafraid woman unable to see injustice without wanting to correct it. Her commitment to justice is evident even in the jocular email exchanges at the beginning of the book. But the author paints a more intricate picture of his friend. Her gentle teasing over his new born son’s name, a quiet way in which she promises to not drown him in debates so they can maintain their friendship, her elation at Obama’s 2008 win — “It’s good to know America still has a heart.” These are marks of an intelligent woman with a tender heart and a sense of humour. After reading those exchanges, Lankesh is no longer an icon, but an individual whose loss is deeply felt by the reader.
As the author chronicles their lives together and Lankesh’s life after their brief marriage, it becomes evident that her priorities as a journalist were the polar opposite of what most in the profession strive for these days. She wasn’t chasing TRPs; she believed in reporting from the ground; ensuring that marginalized voices weren’t drowned out amid the din of majoritarian ire. What stands out is her disregard for her own safety in pursuit of the truth and her hatred for irrationality and extremism. Simultaneously, Rajghatta — a veteran journalist himself — leads his reader through the history of a constantly “fermented” contemporary India. Readers are confronted with key moments when Indian society revealed itself to be driven by hate, intolerance, and worst of all, apathy. The story of Lankesh and Rajghatta’s professor at the National College in Bengaluru, the banning of Satanic Verses, or the treatment of MF Hussain over his paintings of goddesses in the nude; the author points out moments in history that could have changed the present, had anyone cared enough to take notice and act. The picture he paints of India is grim, especially for an author who starts out calling himself a centralist.
We are alive in an ugly time in our history. We could learn from our mistakes or continue to make them till the nation is led to civil war. Whatever we become, the author and his book make it clear that this current intolerant India is ugly, the nation at its worst. “Not the India that Gauri and her ilk lived and died for.”