With no stamped passport...

For a writer whose work has reflected his socio-political beliefs, Jawed Akhtar declares, ?I?m a firm believer in keeping the dialogue going. There is no other option.?

Pakistan could not have chosen a better person than him when it decided to be selective about issuing visas last week. The writer has been -- and remains -- a poster-boy for Indo-Pak amity. He also represents the liberal face of Islam in India. In singling him out of a 25-member delegation, the Pakistan government has handed Indian hawks a ready-to-detonate bomb. More so since the delegation was headed to Karachi for the premiere of Mughal-e-Azam and to participate in a fund-raiser for Pakistani earthquake victims.

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The sharp-eyed lyricist recounts, “On 20 June the visa was granted; on the 22nd it was withdrawn; and on the 23rd, when the organisers announced that they had cancelled the show, I was informed at 9 pm that the visa was on. What was I to do with that visa? By that time I had already given 25 interviews!” To be sure, both Akhtar and his actress wife, Shabana Azmi have been working the phone, voicing their indignation to practically every newspaper and every TV channel that carried their story.

That, of course, is not how the Pakistanis tell the story. “His claims are baseless. We have not denied him a visa,” says Rai Riaz, minister (press) in the Pakistan High Commission. “There was a procedural delay which has been blown out of proportion.”

With the Indian media seizing the news opportunity, Akhtar’s situation became a bit of a cause celebre. Though he says wryly, “It’s not as if the Pakistani cabinet sat down to discuss the issue; it must have been done by some more-loyal-than-the-king bureaucrat.”

However, Akhtar doesn’t let his humour mask the fact that the incident has left him somewhat disillusioned: “People on both sides are trying to forge a civilised relationship though our respective positions look almost irreconcilable at this point. Incidents like these, if they don’t stop that process, definitely retard it to a certain extent.”

Isn’t the visa muddle symptomatic of the nature of that journey-India takes a smiling step forward, Pakistan pushes us back with a not-too-friendly shove? “In certain areas, it does seem to be a one-way street,” concedes Akhtar. “Especially in the field of films, where we have welcomed Pakistani artistes while our films can’t even be legally shown there.”

However, that imbalance and his recent disillusionment are but blips on his peace radar and Akhtar keeps the faith: “We should continue our efforts. If we don’t, we will be pleasing the right-wingers in both countries.” Fundamentalists on both sides are Akhtar’s chosen objects of derision.

Interestingly, while the Bharatiya Janta Party harps on the “integration of Muslims with the mainstream,” it has had nothing to say about Akhtar’s lyrics like the evocative Pal Pal Hai Bhari for the Ram Leela song in Swades or the stirring O Paalan haare in Lagaan (both composed by AR Rahman). The poet says with some glee, “It embarrasses them tremendously because it doesn’t fit into their scheme of things.”

The lyricist hasn’t let his resolve be diluted however. For a writer whose work has reflected his socio-political beliefs, he declares, “I’m a firm believer in keeping the dialogue going. There is no other option.”