Mrinal Pande: Rap as political rhetoric 

To understand the reasons behind the selection of a lyricist, instead of a journalist for a colourfully opaque political ‘interaction’ on TV in London, one must look respectfully at the art in its various avatars first. Rappers like Jay-Z or Yo Yo Honey Singh or Bollywood lyricists like Prasoon Joshi are now stalwarts of the communication scene. They are heading important media bodies by now and even crooning their hit songs at major international literature fests in rooms packed to over-capacity. They, not the mainstream media biggies, now command attention from audiences raised on a diet of digital music, YouTubed Kavi Sammelans and interactive social media platforms.

This morning I was told off (on Twitter, where else) by an irate admirer who said what was conducted in Good ol’ Blighty was an ‘interaction’, not an ‘interview’. The presentation, reason ran, was not aimed at politically volatile Desi audiences and media hungrily watching out for quotable quotes . Obviously, when the organisers of the ‘interaction’ went talent spotting to carry out the onerous task of showcasing the head of the nation, they were not looking for a hardened crusty journalist, but a friendly and poetic face. It was thus but natural that they should soon zero in on Prasoon Joshi, the undeniably great ad guru-cum-writer. The genre of music he has popularised is both apolitical and overflowing with the milk of human kindness, even when dealing with the daily degradation of lives around us: remember the lilting “Sasural Gainda phool” (Delhi-6), or “Babul Jiya mora ghabraye” (a super hit in the aftermath of the Nirbhaya rape case)?

The manifest strength of apolitical interactions lies not in the personal-is-political kind of confrontationist postures, but in a gentle ruminatingly articulated rhythm (Laya as good ol’ Bharat Muni called it) such as one we expect from conversation between artists. The spinning of flowery words guarantees that the persona of the both remains larger than life, calm and neatly controlled throughout the performance. It creates a showroom that displays the dazzling possibilities of an inspired interaction between two mutually admiring poet-philosophers, but it must remain a show room nevertheless.

This brilliant strategy showcased and even glorified lives of those growing up all aspirational in Indian slums amid squalor and violence and removed all embarrassment of having to be a railway station chaiwala or a street-level pakodawala in hawai chappals. India is changing, it seemed to say, and voices from BJP orators of yore, like Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s will only make you feel you are listening to KL Saigal. But while it lasted, the conversation for us, the Desi audience at least, began to sag when a few popular philosophical questions about Life and Loneliness of The Long Distance Runner were inserted at the expense of vital questions about the dysfunctional Parliament, about the ugly shadows of controversies surrounding our majestic and much admired judiciary, about dying farmers, communal disharmony and horrific crimes against women and young girls all over India.

It was weird watching the ‘interaction’ on TV while outside the TV screens, the western media and the Chief of the IMF expressed deep disgust at the crimes against our women, even as our Minister of State for External Affairs was inaugurating schemes for pregnant and lactating mothers, the Minister for Information and Broadcasting was announcing distribution of saris and cows and the Chief Minister of a state was claiming that the Internet had been invented by Indians thousands of years ago! “When it comes to talent”, the popular American rapper Jay Z once famously said, “there is no gauge. You don’t see when it is empty.”

Mrinal Pande is Senior Group Editorial Advisor at National Herald, Navjivan and Qaumi Awaz