In a month from now, on August 17 to be precise, the newlyopened Terminal 3 at Delhi airport could witness a disagreeable sight calculated to shame all Indians: the deportation of Bangladesh-born writer Taslima Nasreen, who currently lives in Delhi.
Earlier this year, when her residence permit (first issued in 2003) was extended by a niggardly six months, the home ministry informed Taslima that this was the final extension and she must leave the country by August 17. She could, of course, re-apply for a residence permit at any Indian embassy overseas but there was no surety it would be granted. Senior officials have told me in private that the basis of the decision is completely "political".
That Taslima can be a damned nuisance for politicians is undeniable. A writer who can best be described as feminist and secular-humanist (in the Western sense), she has angered conservative Muslims with her skepticism about faith, her irreverence and candid approach to s*xuality. In the Indian context, this isn't unusual and Taslima has things in common with the atheistic, Dravidian rationalism of 'Periyar' EV Ramaswami Naicker, a man venerated by the DMK. Whereas Periyar confined his rationalism to an assault on the Brahmanical religion, Taslima has been preoccupied with Islam and its theology. This is not surprising because Muslims constitute a simple majority of the Bengali-speaking universe.
Taslima's critique of Islam, more particularly Islamist dogmatism has beenrelentless but never outlandish, even though it touched many raw nerves among believers. In 1991-92, militant Islamists mounted a vituperative campaign against her in Bangladesh after two volumes of her essays became bestsellers. Her works had enough literary merit to be awarded the Ananda Purashkar in 1992, India's most prestigious prize for Bengali writing.
The irony is that despite her literary credentials Taslima finds it difficult to get her writings published in both Bangladesh and West Bengal today. Many booksellers have been threatened for stocking her writings and at this year's Kolkata Book Fair, self-appointed vigilantes — perhaps the same ones who organized a violent bandh in 2007 against her living in the city — tried to make the occasion Taslima-free. Even those who published Hindi translations of her columns have developed cold feet.
The comparisons between Taslima and painter M F Husain are striking. The plight of Husain, whose paintings are constantly targeted and who had to flee India, outraged the intelligentsia. Tragically, the same people haven't stood up for Taslima. Even double standards carry an eloquent message: All religions are sacred but some are more sacred than others.
If self-publicity was the only thing driving Taslima, she would probably have been glad to escape this tension and set herself up as an exotic exile in Paris—where her views on the anti-women bias of Islam would draw an appreciative audience. After all, she travels on a Swedish passport, which was graciously given to her after Bangladesh revoked her citizenship.
Taslima is unique in that she wants to live in India because it provides her creative nourishment. She seeks Indian nationality, views Kolkata as 'home' but is willing to live in Delhi till the dust settles. So far the authorities have grudgingly given her a toehold in India. In a month's time, even her nominal status as an intellectual refugee is set to be undone.
On November 28, 2007, Pranab Mukherjee had assured the Lok Sabha that "India has never refused shelter to those who had come and sought our protection…This civilizational heritage, which is now the government's policy, will continue, and India will provide shelter to Ms Nasreen." Five months later, replying to an overseas Indian's plea on her behalf, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh conceded, "Taslima has been a victim of the politics of hate that a small section of extremists…are now pursuing." Citing the sanctuary given to the Dalai Lama, Manmohan Singh gave an assurance: "We recognize Taslima Nasreen's right to remain in a country of her choice, viz India…"
The PM was writing as an enlightened man of letters. Now, as a politician, he faces the sorry prospect of not only having to eat his words but worse, mocking the idea of an India "where the mind is without fear…"
