A touch of poetry in Parliament

In the hallowed halls of the Parliament of India, where laws are forged and destinies shaped, words have always held an undeniable sway. However, the Parliament, by its very nature, is a space bound by rules and traditions. The discussions within these walls were meant to be a rational and deliberative process among lawmakers that would lead to the creation of just laws and policies. The words spoken here were delivered by the elected representatives with as much gravity as they could muster.

Occasionally, some would also manage eloquence—even invoke verse to provoke or illuminate—and be recognised for it. I am sure they meant to convey their thoughts and intentions, also to the masses they served and to posterity, as these were recorded in official and unofficial written accounts.

The complex demands of the legislative task, however, meant that the language used within the Parliament would sound obscure and boring to the average citizen. The meticulously written and preserved records of parliamentary debates kept becoming more voluminous and formidable with the passage of time. The average person could hardly be expected to sift through endless pages of arcane prose to grasp the essence of the debates shaping their life.

The advent of televised parliamentary sessions was like a ray of accessibility that pierced the thick cloud of political opacity. Televising debates brought the proceedings of Parliament into the living rooms of the masses. Citizens could now witness at first hand the discussions and arguments that shaped their nation. The visual element added depth and immediacy to the political discourse.

Parliamentarians from smaller parties like me, who rarely get adequate time to lay out their views in detail, have to master the art of brevity to get their point across—especially now, when televised sessions let us speak to the people directly, in real time. In such a setting, poetry and poetic expression become indispensable. Economy of language, born out of constraint, often speaks louder than lengthy prose. I’m reminded of the women letter-writers in our films and literature who would say ‘thoday likhe ko zyada samajhna’ (understand the little that is said as meaning much more, or, in a sense, to read between the lines), articulating at the same time the weight of social and cultural restrictions on their speech.

The digital age and the rise of social media further transformed the way the public engaged with parliamentary debates. Short and insightful—sometimes moving and sometimes revolting— excerpts from debates or visual footage now began to be shared widely. The public could get a glimpse into the hearts and minds of their representatives in mere seconds.

In this era of instant gratification and rapid consumption, there is a cautionary note to strike here. Grave danger lies in reducing complex political issues to oversimplified catchphrases. The parliamentarians and the citizens both can fall prey to this. Indeed, some parliamentarians have used dog-whistle speeches, and now even use downright street-level abuses to communicate to their publics. While hurling abuses at colleagues, these parliamentarians are also articulating a cynical calculation: that in the prevailing atmosphere, it pays to appeal to the lowest impulses of their constituents rather than lift them through education.

It is here, in this battle to define the terms of debate, that reciting poetry emerges as ethical politics. Poetry, by its very nature, is metaphorical and concise, conveying layers of meaning in relatively few words carefully chosen by the poet. When I employ poetry in my speeches, I seek to harness the power of metaphor and emotion to communicate ideas that would require hours of prose and still be dry. Poetry allows for the distillation of complex concepts into digestible morsels of wisdom, making the message accessible to a wider audience.

None of what I am saying here is new, and it is not as if the people do not know it. In fact, people know it only too well, but some are going out of their way to deny it. I have seen opinions published in some places where the commentators argue that Omprakash Valmiki’s poem should not have been recited in the Parliament and that its recitation should be struck off the record. To them, I have to ask if it is the poem itself that they have issues with. Or is it their case that a parliamentarian should not have recited it?

Poetry has long had a place in Parliament, even if not as the dominant mode of discourse. The founding mothers and fathers of the Constitution, my predecessors in the Parliament and my senior colleagues as well as peers have often invoked poetry—sometimes tender, sometimes raging with fire, often sharp and questioning, always effective—to articulate their ideas and emotions. They draw from various traditions, different languages. They have recited poems written by our ancestors, which have stood the test of time, and poems written by young contemporary poets. These instances always elevate the deliberations.

Excerpted with permission from 'In Praise Of Coalition Politics And Other Essays On Indian Democracy' by Manoj Kumar Jha, published recently by Speaking Tiger.

The author is an RJD leader and member of the Rajya Sabha.