Long years ago I read a book titled The Words to Say It . It stayed with me for the longest time. In this very personal, autobiographical novel, author Marie Cardinal talks about her battle with loneliness and mental illness, and her attempts to seek help, to find the words to articulate pain, loneliness, rejection.

I thought then that language is such a difficult thing — and sometimes it is not at all adequate to reflect what those who use it are going through. Which is why they resort to that next best thing, action.

But this thought came to me in an unlikely context and I wasn’t entirely sure why one thought sparked off the other, but it did. Last week, a BJP MP, Paresh Rawal, launched a verbal attack on writer Arundhati Roy. I’m not entirely sure what sparked off the attack, but it was vicious and suggested that she should be tied to a jeep and dragged — and this in the context of some statements she is believed to have made on Kashmir.

Many people found it laughable and shrugged it off — why give attention to what was clearly a smart alec’s off-the -cuff remark, calculated to draw attention to the speaker?

But there were many things about it that troubled me. Firstly, I wondered, what was it about one individual, in this case a writer, that could make another individual wish violence on her? And this kind of violence? Did the speaker think this was ‘just’, that this was deserved ‘punishment’ for just expressing views and opinions, especially those he disagreed with? Since when have these ever harmed anyone?

And then there was something else. This wasn’t just anyone speaking, it was an elected member of parliament, pretty much the highest authority in our land. And when taking the oath, he would have sworn allegiance to the Constitution. So here he was now, flouting every rule in the book, and not only getting away with it, but if the internet is to be believed, also lauded for it.

The media reported the incident. But did little else. Have calls to violence become so routine then that we fail to see the hatred, the resentment, the call to lawlessness behind them? That we do not even feel the need to condemn them?

Even if, for a moment, we tell ourselves that the remark was an off-the-cuff one, that it could not have been meant seriously (although given the sort of remarks MPs and vigilantes have been making in the past several months, I am inclined to believe it was intended as a serious threat), I wonder if the speaker ever thought the remark could also be an incentive to one of the many vigilantes patrolling our streets these days, and indeed could spark off copycat remarks or actual violence.

Later, Rawal went on to say that he knew the remark was harsh, but he intended it to be thus, and he wanted to call the attention of the nation to what the writer had been saying. A debate, he said, will start now.

But debates begin not when you threaten someone with violence, or incite others to do violence to them, and then say let’s talk. Debates are good, and necessary, and I wonder why the MP did not think of calling out the author and saying, hey, I don’t agree with your views and let’s debate. Would that have been so difficult?

I know we have been taught all our lives that sometimes it’s better just to ignore things. And perhaps there’s wisdom in that — especially for the person who is at the receiving end of such remarks. But should there not be outrage, anger, concern among the rest of us?

For example, even though we know that many of our politicians, our corporate heads, our religious leaders, no matter which end of the spectrum they belong to, have made similar statements, especially about women, I have yet to see others of the ilk speaking up and pointing out that this is not right, that even in jest such remarks carry insult and institutionalise misogyny.

And they reflect a reality that needs to be changed. Take the word ‘ behenc**d ’, for example. Have we ever asked why this word is almost like a punctuation mark in male language (you pretty much never hear a woman using it)? The answer isn’t difficult to find: it reflects a reality that is so commonplace, so widespread, that the word is now part of (male) everyday language. So in this instance, language reflects the normalisation of an act of violence, and in doing so, further normalises that act. It’s a dangerous, slippery slope.

Perhaps it’s time our leaders began to give serious attention to the words they use and to the laws of the land.

Urvashi Butaliais an editor, publisher and director of Zubaan; blink@thehindu.co.in

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