VS Naipaul: “What’s wrong if a writer goes to a political party’s office?”

VS Naipaul is gone. Memories remain. I had met him on several occasions at Khushwant Singh’s home and then the last time in 2004 at another friend’s home. I had then written about it, but today writing once again as it relays the political streak in Naipaul.

Around the take-off time for the 2004 elections, VS Naipaul and spouse Nadira were camping in New Delhi, even visiting the BJP headquarters. A common friend had invited him and several others for supper... And as Naipaul and Nadira strode in, I began looking for an opportunity to begin throwing queries at him, but Nadira took charge. Of filling up his plate! And then making sure that he’d eat all that she'd piled up. Putting daal and fried bhindi into a bowl together with salad and curd on his plate, she hovered around ensuring he ate. And just as our conversation would begin to flow, she saw to it that it wouldn’t gain momentum.

But the journalist in me wouldn’t let go of that opportunity. I had to interview him for a publication …The fact that I had met him and Nadira before, at Khushwant Singh’s home, didn’t make things any easier for me… But no sooner did Nadira get up to fetch a drink, I started the conversation with him, commenting on how little he was eating.

“After a certain age, one shouldn’t eat much. I have begun to eat little,” he said, sounding rather sad and depressed.

“And what are you writing these days?” I asked.

“Nothing, really…after a certain age it gets difficult to write.”

“But isn’t writing an ongoing exercise?”

“No, it gets difficult to write after a certain age. I suppose if I was doing business, I would have carried on, but with writing it isn’t easy.”

“Are you planning to switch over to politics? I ask because you aired, rather too blatantly, some right-wing views recently?”

“No, no politics.”

“But didn’t you travel to Nashik? …And it is said that your longish stay at the Maurya Sheraton’s luxury suite was sponsored by a right-wing political party?”

“Yes, I did travel to Nashik…and here in New Delhi, I did go to the BJP office headquarters. What’s wrong if a writer goes to a political party’s office and interacts with their workers and leaders?”

“Shouldn’t a writer not support blatant destruction? Of structures, human or otherwise?” Why did you recently do the unthinkable. From some semi-political platform, you gave a clean chit of sorts to the destruction of the Babri Masjid?”

Naipaul looked rattled, cornered. And as if out of force of habit, he started looking around for an escape route, somebody to pamper and protect him from fresh onslaughts. And the escape route appeared just then—Nadira was back and seated in the chair she had briefly vacated. Any further queries directed at Naipaul were then answered by the ‘Back off’ look on her face.