English Heart, Hindi Heartland: The Political Life of Literature in India

Chapter 5: At the Sahitya Akademi

94 chapter 5 At the Sahitya Akademi The majority status of Hindi and its reflection in a unified, national literary culture becomes more complicated as one leaves Ansari Road and heads to central Delhi, where government bureaucracy and Nehruvian idealism meet at “the house of Rabindranath Tagore.” It is a place and part of Delhi where the task of creating a sense of nationality , national purpose, really, across different forms of cultural production is paramount. I identify this quest at the Sahitya Akademi as one for “literary nationality.” In terms of literary production, to be literate is to know the literatures of each regional language and accord them equal status to the extent possible—a production, as we will see, in and of itself. English, once again, is a mediating language, even as its authenticity is continually in question, which is not to say that colonial oppositions are regressively at play; rather they are destabilized and reconstituted by literary practitioners themselves with a more complicated , if also resigned, understanding of the role of English vis-à-vis the bhashas and in their own lives. The gray stone building known as Rabindra Bhavan is the home of the Sahitya Akademi (Academy of Literature), as well as the Sangeet Natak (Music and Dance) and Lalit Kala (Art) Akademis. In central Delhi, or Lutyens’ Delhi, as colonial architecture enthusiasts like to call it, the roads are wide, and the dhabas are few and far between. At the Sahitya Akademi | 95 In February 2008, I attended the Sahitya Akademi annual awards function, an event held in the Kamani Auditorium next door to the Akademi headquarters. A reception for the award winners took place before the ceremony in a large, colorful tent put up for the occasion on the grounds of Rabindra Bhavan. I got there early so I had time to renew my library card in the Sahitya Akademi’s library, one of the country’s best multilingual libraries. Its holdings include literature in all the languages recognized by the Indian constitution and its amendments , over twenty-two in all. But first there was the matter of my library card. my library card I was renewing my card out of good faith; no one really checks your card as you enter the library. I didn’t have checkout privileges to begin with, so I wasn’t looking to use my card for that purpose. I was trying to write a book, and the last thing I needed to do was cart unread books to and from the library. My plan was to read the books in the library itself and so obtain a consultation-only membership. I had had a membership six years earlier, and as I peered over the edge of the first counter in the library, I wondered if I would be in their computer system. I was. I was then told to proceed to the desk of one Mr. Kumar, to whom I would pay my membership fee. Mr. Kumar, however, was not satisfied when I told him I was in the computer system. He went to the tall metal cabinet across from his desk to retrieve a worn ledger and was only satisfied when he found my name and address inscribed in it. I liked seeing it there too. The cursive writing, my old address. He then became helpful, almost pliant. He asked me to pay fifty rupees to renew my reading-only privileges, and I happily obliged. He gave me a receipt, and I proceeded to the card makers stationed in the recesses of the library. These people were younger and wore brighter clothes. I was sure I would have my card in minutes. On examination of my receipt, however , a slim girl with square spectacles told me that the fee I had paid was too small. I was sent back to Mr. Kumar. He was on my side now and didn’t like being told he had charged me the wrong fee by these backbenchers. He insisted it was the right fee and sent me back to them. They took me back and said they would have to give me a different designation. I said that was okay. Then another person looked at my 96 | At the Sahitya Akademi photo and much to my alarm told me that my face was too big. It was a passport-size photo I had gotten in New York and had...