It came, it happened and it went. This year’s JLF had all the right ingredients, the authors, the sessions and the venue. But then it still wasn’t the JLF we had all grown to love. Somewhere, the spice seems to be missing.
‘It has been one of the most spectacular festivals ever. We had very few drawbacks. There have been no dramas, no controversies. The authors have been astonishingly good,’ said William Dalrymple, author and director of the Jaipur Literature Festival. I wonder why he said that? Was it because the Jaipur Literature Festival 2024 has transformed into a ghost version of what it was some 4 years ago at Diggi Palace Hotel?
The very words ‘Jaipur Literature Festival’ bring to my mind’s eye the very first JLF that I had attended in 2017. As they say, ‘the first impression is the last impression’ and so I was imprinted for life. The decorations and the entire look of original home of JLF, the Diggi Palace Hotel was about a celebration of not just literature but culture too. Not just the speakers or their books, but the atmosphere itself felt as if one had been transported to a magic land where nothing else mattered. You could fetch yourself some tea or coffee or some snacks and sit down and listen to the literati conversing about life, politics or anything else under the sun. Or you could just hop across to the lunch area where you would be sure to spot or bump into the likes of Shashi Tharoor or Shobha De or any other such stalwarts busy conversing with people or just enjoying their food. It was a setting which made the common folks believe that they could also hold intelligent conversations with all those ‘big’ writers and perhaps create a memory which would last them a life time of dinner parties and coffee conversations. Every year, as I would step into this world of JLF, I would leave behind my professional and personal woes at the entrance and enter into the wonderland that promised me intriguing tet-e-tats, interesting rendezvous and tasty memories. But then nothing lasts forever, does it? A thing of beauty is never a joy forever, is it?
On the first day, as I drove into the gate of the make-shift parking of the Clarks Amer Hotel, I was stopped by a traffic police man and his assistant. He said, ‘the parking is full.’ I looked around, the parking was quite vacant except for a few cars. Besides those, there was an empty section had a board that read ‘festival vehicles only’. ‘There is a lot of space,’ I replied pointing to the empty spaces. ‘No, those are reserved for the other guests.’ I could see an empty space right in the front of the parking lot. ‘How about that space?’ I asked. ‘That is the colony’s space. We can’t park there.’ After a lot of discussion, he finally said, ‘okay, I will give you a space but it’s quite sandy. The vehicle which was parked there yesterday, got so mired in the sand that we had to call a crane and there are a lot of shrubs and thorny bushes, so your car tyres may get punctured but that will not be our fault’. I was getting late so I agreed to park, praying that I or the car tyres don’t meet the same fate. I chatted with him after parking my car and he told me that apparently there was some clash between the hotel management and the residents who believe that the parking lot belongs to them.
I made my way to the entrance of JLF where volunteers were busy checking the attendees passes and guiding them to the venue of the festival. The minimum entrance fee was 200 rupees and upon the payment, those passes with the QR code were then sent to the attendee’s mobile which was then scanned by these volunteers. Someone had once said that knowledge should be free, which it was in the JLF of the yore. But today, things are different. However, youth activist and film maker Puneeta Roy feels differently. ‘I feel that this basic entry fee of 200 INR is just to discourage the selfie takers, the people who used to come to the festival just to take selfies or roam around. Moreover, now since no one can enter without an online registration, we at the Lit Fest are able to know the exact number of visitors at the literature festival at any given point in time. Now we see that the crowds that are coming in are a little more aware and there seem to be more readers.’
However, Prashanth Kumar, a new attendee had a different take on the matter. ‘This was the first time I was attending JLF. I am from Hyderabad but I have been living in Jaipur for the past three years. I had heard a lot about it over the years so I was expecting that it will be a place where there will be books and authors I could interact with or talk with. However, in Clarks all I could see were these tents where some people were speaking on the dais while the others were listening to them. To me, it appeared that they were busy promoting their books. I saw youngsters taking selfies or eating or shopping at the numerous stalls. It felt like a festival alright but not a festival of books.’
From the entrance to the different venues like the Baithak or the Charbagh or the front lawn was a long walk, every morning. On some days, some of those wore a desolate look as the speakers droned on to a few listeners who were more interested in their phones than the discussion at hand. Of course, the more popular sessions like those of Gulzar or Amish Tripathi or Devdutt Patnaik did attract the crowds but then that was expected, wasn’t it?
I remembered the days when JLF was at the Diggi Palace Hotel. It was as if the whole Diggi Palace Hotel had become the Literature Festival. Anywhere on the venue, you could bump into Rampratap Diggi, the scion of the Diggi Palace and his entire clan decked up in their traditional attire. As Puneeta Roy puts it, ‘When you landed at the Diggi Palace Hotel, the impression one got was that they had arrived at a ‘Thakur’ abode. The entire family and the staff were completely involved in the festival. We used to arrive weeks before the festival and train the entire staff to ensure that we could maintain that aura of the festival. Here though Apurva and his family are involved, that involvement is a bit more subtle. We tried training the staff earlier but then this is a very busy hotel and the staff has to not just cater to the festival but also take care of the check-ins and the guests.’
Perhaps, that’s where the difference lies. In Diggi Palace, it was only about the festival whereas in Clark’s, JLF is just one of the many activities that happen in the hotel which is why the very spirit of JLF is missing here.
The earlier version of JLF or rather the pre-covid version of JLF was not just about book but also about celebrating the culture and cuisine of Rajasthan and perhaps even India. This time , it was strictly the books, at least for the common folks. As a media personnel, the spread that was laid out in lunch was disappointing. Each morning as I made my way to the lunch hall, I passed a bhelpuri vendor who prepared a better fare than that in the Clark’s. However, there is a small consolation – every second dish had a dash of spinach or some green leafy vegetable- which meant that I have eaten enough iron to qualify in the iron woman contest! For those who had to buy their food from various vendors also faced a similar problem. There weren’t enough tables and chairs to sit on or to eat. Once, it even started raining while we were in the middle of our fare and there was no place to go! But that was not the case with the privileged class. Food in the authors’ lounge or the friends of the festival lounge featured an array of delectable cuisine, that could be only afforded by the rich and the famous. A far cry from the days of Diggi where everyone could enjoy the same delicacies with every one!
Speaking of queues, generally in a hotel like Clarks Amer, one would expect easily accessible washrooms. But that too wasn’t the case here. The washrooms had long queues. On the positive side, the women folk have undergone some evolution of sorts. In the long serpentine queues, they were patiently waiting for their turns.
Frankly speaking , JLF is still a coveted festival. For most folks, it means a wonderland of experiences and knowledge. However, the image that is still alive in the hearts and minds of its lovers is that of Diggi’s JLF and not that of the event that happens in Clarks Amer. As one attendee remarked, ‘experiencing JLF earlier and now is like watching Madhubala in Mughal-e-Azam in her heydays and later watching her as she struggled with her heart disease and become a mere shell of the bombshell she was!
This article by Shailaza Singh appeared in Rashtradoot Newspaper’s Arbit Section on February 29, 2024.
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