“We would
not be who we are today without the calamities of our yesterdays.”-Salman
Rushdie
On the night of August 10, 2022, Salman Rushdie
dreamed that a gladiator at a Roman amphitheater attacked him in front of an
audience. Two days later, at the amphitheater of the Chautauqua Institution in
New York state, he was on the verge of giving a lecture on the importance of
keeping writers safe from harm when a terrorist ran down the aisle toward him
and stabbed him multiple times with a knife.
I will refrain from using the terrorist’s real
name here, and I will refer to him as the “c-c” man. The letters “c-c” stand
for the words “coward-criminal,” or “criminal-coward,” in the order in which
you prefer to think about him. Let this sink in for a moment: the hateful c-c was
a twenty-four-year-old radical Islamist who attacked an unarmed seventy-five-year-old
man.
Salman Rushdie has won several literary awards and is the author of over twenty books. The reason for c-c’s action was that c-c had read a couple of pages of one of Rushdie’s books and decided that he did not like him.
The twenty-four hours that followed the attack
on August 12, 2022, were hours of uncertainty. Due to his critical condition Salman’s
loved ones did not know if he would survive. He was on a ventilator, suffering
the consequences of multiple injuries. I followed the details of his medical
care with great interest, but the miracle of his survival is not only related
to the work of health care professionals. It is true that doctors, nurses and
physical therapists worked in tandem to make his recovery possible. However, the healing
process involved his devotion to life; the assiduous engagement of his loving
wife; the affection of his friends and family members; the empathy and support
of his colleagues; and the solidarity of strangers from all over the world.
His recovery included several procedures and
rehabilitation sessions along with the patience and steady work of Salman
himself.
In this era of noisy apologists for terrorism,
it is important to read Salman Rushdie’s memoir Knife. In these strange
times in which so many people appear to be okay with regimes that treat women
as second-class citizens, in which so many people inform themselves by using
tik-tok and other forms of social media while being absorbed in video games, it
is necessary to promote books that can open new perspectives of understanding
the present.
Rushdie’s book can also be a helpful resource
for anybody who has been through something tragic. Sharing his harrowing
experience and his personal journey of recovery and healing is an important
aspect of the book. Cultivating resilience within
the solid foundation of love and meaningful work was part of the process of
recovery. The fortress of his attitude encouraged both his body and mind to
move forward against all odds. Along
with the grief, there is personal growth, and in this journey of pain, uncertainty and horror, we learn, once again, that love trumps hate. Unfortunately, Salman Rushdie lost his right
eye, but he did not lose the enthusiasm to move forward and to continue
writing his masterpieces. His latest novel is called Victory City
and I have already requested it from my local library.
Salman Rushdie was born in India, but he is also a British citizen and an American citizen. His insights and reflections clearly show that he does not succumb to the clumsy patterns of “groupthink,” and he dares to examine facts with honesty; his knowledge and experience are important gifts for every generation.
I cherish the literary references in Knife, for
they emerge from intelligent associations that are the product of his creative
mindset and knowledge. His musings and insights reflect deep introspection and
make for an intellectually stimulating read, but Knife was also a kind
of emotional rollercoaster for me. Tears of frustration, sadness, anger and
even joy took me by surprise as I connected with the intimacy of his
experiences.
There is also a memorable love story on the
pages of Knife. I appreciate how Salman values and admires his wife’s
multiple talents. Her name is Rachel Eliza Griffiths and they have been
together for seven years. I will be exploring her writing as well. The couple
had always safeguarded their privacy and I loved to read about their
relationship. I agree with his words when he says, “There is a kind of deep
happiness that prefers privacy, that flourishes out of the public eye, that
does not require the validation of being known about: a happiness that is for
the happy people alone, that is, just by itself, enough. I was sick of having
my private life dissected and judged by strangers, tired of the malice of
wagging tongues.” He elaborates this idea further in a way that resonates in
this era of social media, “Something strange has happened to the idea of
privacy in our surreal time. Instead of being cherished, it appears to have
become, for many people in the West, especially young people, a valueless quality—actually
undesirable. If a thing is not made public, it doesn’t really exist. Your dog,
your wedding, your beach, your dinner…” With Eliza, Salma Rushdie rejected this
approach and chose privacy… “Eliza and I decided to be private people. We
showed that even in this attention-addicted time, it was still possible for two
people to lead, pretty openly, a happily private life. Then, cutting that life
apart, came the knife.”
His
reflections on art are simple, yet profound. “Art is not a luxury. It stands at
the essence of our humanity, and it asks for no special protection except the
right to exist. Art accepts argument, criticism, even rejection...
“Without art
our ability to think, to see freshly, and to renew our world would wither and
die.”
Can art survive authoritarian regimes and
extremist ideologies? Salman attempts to provide some sparks of hope when
he shares these examples, “The poet Ovid was exiled by Augustus Caesar, but the
poetry of Ovid has outlasted the Roman Empire. The poet Mandelstam’s life was
ruined by Joseph Stalin, but his poetry has outlasted the Soviet Union. The
poet Federico Garcia Lorca was murdered by the thugs of General Franco, but his
art has outlasted the fascism of the Falange.”
Feel free to
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