For Whom the Hay Shines

The Hay Festival Dhaka 2014 concluded recently and with it has ended three days of “transcending the boundaries of nations through literary and intellectual exchanges”, as one columnist described it. Sounds like a lofty goal for three days…but perhaps not totally out of place in Bangladesh. A country where many don't know where their next meal will come from, but know sufi baul songs by heart. Bangalis know how to celebrate culture and we do it with all-encompassing exuberance. The Hay Festival this year mirrored that aspect of the Bangladeshi psyche perfectly.

One of the most thought provoking and talked about sessions at Hay this year was on “Identity”, between panelists Namita Gokhale (who writes candidly about the Indian everywoman), Shashi Tharoor (who writes about his changing country in intensely personal ways), Zia Haider Rahman (who writes about multiple identities across class in his acclaimed first novel), moderated by Salil Tripathi. The session delved at length about who writers are in relation to what they create; and how their memories and experiences shape their creativity. The discussion turned to who they write for – the identity of their readers – which is very apt at a literature festival where writers and their readers can interact on a direct level.

The writers on stage that day said that they were conscious that one cannot simply write for everybody. They commented that being true to one's artistic expression was inevitably alienating to one or more segments of the reading public, simply for factors such as their chosen language or their cultural references. It could be for practical reasons too such as whether their book had been translated (or translated well), or whether their book was even available in shops. The question of the reader's identity stayed with me throughout the Festival this year.

Who reads the books being discussed at Hay? Who comes to this Festival? Why do they come? Why do others not?

The Hay didn't require pre-registration and was open to all. You could see every kind of person walking through the metal detectors. Judging a crowd by its cover was confusing. There were simple cotton saris, jewel-coloured jamdanis, rubber chappals, khadi kurtas, casually slung jholas, lots of skinny jeans and an expensive sunglass or two. This year must have been disappointing to those who have raised a ruckus in the past about the “elitism” of Hay in Bangladesh. The Bangla Academy grounds were not as crowded as it gets during the month-long Ekushey BoiMela but the crowd didn't look or feel very different.

The main difference was that most of the events were conducted in English, and people were discussing books, newspapers, blogs, etc. primarily drafted in English. The other difference was that Hay invited international literary luminaries to Dhaka. This brought a frisson which lasted throughout the three days. The Festival felt manic, as we scrolled through the tiny printed “event calendar” and tried to figure out which session we wanted to get to, at the expense of giving up another session. Another difference was the presence of the writers outside the elevated podiums.  So, writers got to meet their readers and the readers got to meet writers that they had read, or hopefully – will now read.

The Festival was heavy with star writers (some with their entourage of admirers, and some milling about more quietly) who had come from all over the world, but what Hay did (as it does every year) was give the stage (literally) and the floor (metaphorically) to Bangladeshi writers in English. It was their day in the sun, a time of well-deserved accolades. It was interesting to see that the reactionary idea of deshi writers in English only writing for the selected few isn't true. The well-attended sessions and interesting conversations with the authors have hopefully translated into solid book sales.

Another thing Hay had in common with Ekushey is that it was a book-sellers dream. Stalls from UPL, Bengal Lights, Daily Star Books, Bengal Publications, Bookworm, etc. did brisk business with their wide range of titles. Readers were however disappointed a few times because advertised books had sold out, or had not even arrived! The Hay attendance is growing, and the organizers must pay closer attention to book buyers' needs.

At the Bottola of Bangla Academy, one witnessed another cultural quirk of the Bangali – the intense and impassioned adda over hot cups of tea. Although this year the fruit juice stand – Thanda Gorom – was the unpublished star of the Festival. Authors, deshi and bideshi were seen chatting animatedly with litterateurs and Festival invitees. The volunteers were simply marvelous – well informed and courteous. The attendees were excited to spot faces familiar from book jackets, and nervously approached writers for autographs. The young and the beautiful took pictures and uploaded them at the speed of sound. We were clicked, tagged and shared. Friend requests were sent.

These are the people that the Hay in Dhaka caters to. People didn't care if it appeared snobbish to talk about English books. People didn't pretend to be something they weren't – that is the overly erudite smug Bangali Babu. To me, that was the beauty of the Festival. You didn't have to be a bookworm to be here or to have a good time. You simply had to have a curiosity about books and an interest in ideas. You could sense it from the audience Q&A components at each panel. People engaged enthusiastically – albeit sometimes forgetting the difference between a 'question' and a 'comment'…but I digress. It was exciting because Dhaka doesn't see too many opportunities to meet and discover new English writers. My favourite was when I saw bearded men in long, white robes listening to a discussion on poetry. That scene made me pause. You think you know who comes to the Hay? You'd be surprised. Welcome, world.

Shahpar Selim has a Doctorate in environmental policy from the London School of Economics, and currently resides in Dhaka.