By Dr. K. Javeed Nayeem, MD

Just two days ago, I read that K. Satchidanandan, the noted Malayalam writer, poet, critic and translator, has announced that he would be gradually withdrawing from public life, out of his own volition.

This very popular and much sought after orator and the present Chairperson of the Kerala Sahitya Akademi has been a leading luminary on the very rich and verdant landscape of Malayalam literature and has published more than twenty collections of poetry, on themes related to love, nature and social justice and his works have earned him many major honours.

His works have been widely translated too and as far as my knowledge goes, almost all of them have been translated into English, with copies being available easily. He has also published a book titled Signatures, which is a compendium of the works of a hundred Indian poets, from across the country.

The book, which is an anthology of about four hundred very carefully curated poems from twenty Indian languages, is a real treasure trove for lovers of poetry and literature. It is not unlike the Anthology of Modern Indian Poetry, compiled by Vinay Dharwadkar and A.K. Ramanujan, which again is an outstanding compilation.

The reason that Satchidanandan, the doyen of Malayalam literature, has given for his unusual decision at the age of 78, which can actually be called the most productive age for any writer, is that he could sense his memory and other mental faculties becoming weaker and weaker, with each passing day.

It appears he has been on treatment, on and off, for failing memory over the past few years and his doctors have told him that this was an irreversible change that could very likely become progressive and worsen over the coming years.

It is therefore his desire to say good-bye to his writing and public appearances where he would be expected to speak, well before he makes a mess of what he writes and speaks.

So, he wants to stop while his image of what he is and has been, is still intact in people’s minds. A big hand from the doctor in me, to a rare person who has chosen to give a serious thought to what his doctor thinks!

This decision that he has taken is a very sane and sensible one, which a great many of our public figures desperately need to take, but do not. The rich literary legacy he would be leaving behind, would be more than enough for his admirers.

 At a time when most people in service dread the mandatory retirement that they just cannot escape, when the age of superannuation arrives, retiring voluntarily, while they can continue to be doing what they think they do best, is simply unthinkable to most of us! That is why we very often see once good writers slowly beginning to write nonsense, when they fail to stop before complete senility overtakes them and their mental faculties.

There was a time when I used to admire some regular writers for the fluency and clarity of their thoughts and their sense of humour too, only to dread reading the tripe they began turning out as they grew older and yet continued to scribble away, without a thought to what they were writing. My most notable example is one of my most loved writers, the late Khushwant Singh, the sardar who sat in his famous glass light bulb and yet pelted stones at all those who lived outside!

Many of you may wonder why, of all writers, I admired this man who wrote mostly gossip all his life, but I am not ashamed to admit that I enjoyed his style of writing and the readability of what he was not ashamed to write. I admired the richness of his contacts and experiences in his long public life and his candid and unrepentant style of narrating them.

While many people have lives full of rich experiences, they just do not have the ability to narrate them well. And many of those who can narrate well, have just no stories to narrate. To be a good storyteller you need to have both these resources and this rare man had them both, in ample measure!

Now, coming to gossip, whether we admit it or not, most of us do enjoy reading it. It is just that most of us do not admit what we perceive as our guilt. But the few who do, calling ourselves lovers of literature, do so after taking shelter under the dignified excuse that whatever, good or bad, if written well, deserves to be appreciated. And, it takes a little courage to make a public admission of this weakness, which most of us lack! The sardar who almost turned a hundred, before calling it a day, undoubtedly wrote with a wry smile, even as he was exhaling his last breath, but the ink in his pen had turned from venom to plain water, a very long time before he finally chose to put it down.

That is why his later writings were just strained ramblings and random thoughts, hastily and sketchily penned down, only to meet editors’ deadlines and also perhaps to let his readers know that his heart was still beating. 

And, coming to the topic of retiring from public life before it is too late, our politicians take the cake, when what they need to take are a few lessons. I am not talking of just our home brewed ones but also the many world leaders of today who believe in holding on to the power that intoxicates them, while they make a complete mess of the lives of those whom they rule.

We fret and fume and laugh and cry, over what they say and what they do, day after day and yet we continue to let them do it, by electing them to power, year after year. That’s only because we are also a unique breed, that refuses to learn from our past, for which we continue to pay a very steep price, in our present!

[This column is eighteen years old today]

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