Rushdie @ Café Rustom

Ram was sitting at Chacha Rustom’s chai corner, sipping his third ‘chai’ on an unusually chilled January Mumbai morning when a visibly infuriated Rahim walked in and took a seat next to him.

Ram was too busy on his phone to notice Rahim’s state of mind and thus began without even looking up, “What do you make of this Salman Rushdie issue at…”

“How can I make anything of it yaar??”, shot back Rahim; even before Ram could complete his lazy paced question.

Ram looked up as Rahim continued, “I have not read a single book written by Rushdie! I don’t even know what this book that they are objecting to is all about but still I am supposed to object!!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“My father was angry at me because I did not abuse Rushdie along with him at the morning breakfast! Arre… all I said was… have all the people protesting the book read that book? Is it worth making such a big deal of it… in the process making a fool out of yourself and making an average writer into a hero?” went on Rahim.

Rustom chacha who often joined the boys for this morning tea ritual came in with a chai for Rahim, one for himself along with the age old gujrati newspaper- that showcased Rushdie’s photo on its cover page today!

Ram longingly looked at the steaming cup of chai in Chacha’s old yet manicured hands, but while his heart craved for a fourth cup, his intestines withdrew rapidly at the mere thought of it!

Chacha had overheard Rahim’s rant like everyone else in the ten seater café!

“See…” began Chacha, making himself comfortable in his 50 year old wooden chair, “It is not about right and wrong son. It is about the necessary and the unnecessary. It may not be right to condemn an author for writing what he does but it is necessary to bring a man who writes badly about any religion. Such people should not be encouraged. They should fear of doing such low acts”

“So you are against Salman Rusdhie coming to India?”, enquired Ram.

“Of course I am”, said Chacha.

“But the only thing you read is your Gujrati newspaper! How do you know if Rushdie indeed wrote anything offensive?”, questioned Rahim.

“Oh that is not the question anymore… He wrote bad things- that is confirmed! Now the question is should he be allowed to get away with it or not. I say… why should he? Write shit about film stars, cricketers, terrorists... Why our God?” Chacha was clear. No doubts, no confusion.

Another gentleman whom neither of them knew chipped in, “That Rushdie is also of bad character. Old man with no hair and wanting to have all sexy woman around. Do you know he is having sex with all young models there?”

“What has that got to do with…”, Rahim was getting disturbed.

“There you go… Tell me why you youngsters waste energy in defending a man with such dirty character?”, asked a relaxed and well meaning Chacha.

“But it is about once freedom of speech…” said a weak looking Rahim but Ram stepped in,  “Do you know the amount of publicity you’ll have given him with your protests and objections? Thanks to you all, his books are selling more! Had you’ll not made him an household name he would have not even become half of what he today has!”

“No no...The thing is he or anyone else will not write bad about Islam ever again.”

“So you are saying that because you all made such a big hue and cry about an average author’s barely known book, as a result of which his book sales have gone up and he has become a brand name… no one else would want to write controversial things about Islam?”

Chacha thought it over, he did not seam that releaxed anymore but persisted meakly, “But he wrote bad things about…”

Meanwhile, another young bloke who was witness to all of the above decided he was surely going to get his hands on this book to find out what the fuss was all about!

The End.