Image and Text

The images in Laxman's cartoons provide multidimensionality and portray real-life representations that a simple reading of the text would not. Laxman's cartoons are minutely detailed in image representation, the text seldom more than a line of words and stringently impersonal. On the other hand, the visual graphics offer a wealth of details that are easily identifiable and mischievously personal in their Indian-ness. The presence of the Common Man adds this meaning to the graphic presentations: the Common Man could be each and every Indian.

In the cartoon shown in Figure 1, drawn to satirize the economic mood at the dawn of the new millennium, the Common Man gazes at a budget painting being drawn. The finance minister paints with great gusto, proclaiming: “There you are—the dawn of a new era!” The painting is bright and glorious with the sun epitomizing the budget and the promises made through it. Behind the canvas, however, poverty-ridden people peer quizzically on. The Common Man looks at both, at the differences between the promises and harsh reality (Laxman 2005, 268). The text remains on the level of appearance, and purposefully so. The images probe further. Here the text is an extension of the image. The text is clear and delivered as a matter of fact in an optimistic tone. The Common Man looks on with a bewildered face. He doesn't speak. No text enumerates his response. His expression says it all. The image of the Common Man is as easily recognizable and as quintessentially Indian as the reality behind the curtain of optimism. In the play with both lies the moment of satirical perception. Image and text, the personal and the impersonal, optimism and cynicism are involved in a symbiotic play to assess the real merits of the situation. The chasm between appearance and reality, text and image bring out the efficacy of the satiric message, its mischievous provocativeness.

In Laxman (2005, 268). Reprinted with permission.

Performative Dimension

The performative aspect of the cartoons emphasizes the active nature of the comic frame, satires' unique transgressive capacity to be more than a simple political statement. Analyzing the performative aspects of a cartoon necessarily entails taking into account both the drawing itself and the drawing out. More importantly, it illuminates the congruence between the two and the active nature of their conspiracy. By the performative aspect of the drawing itself, I mean the nature of the material/issues drawn into the cartoons, the inspiration behind and on the cartoonist's canvas. The performative aspect of the drawing out refers to the effect of the cartoon and an assessment of its capacity to enthuse performance of any kind. Such a categorization (like most other categorizations) is necessarily arbitrary. But it serves an important function here to underline both the artist's impulse and matters which often slip out of the artist's control.

To some, Laxman isn't simply a cartoonist but “a profound thinker, a social reformer, a political scientist, a critic of errant politicians and so on” (Laxman 2000a, 343). As Laxman writes (2000a, 343), “I received letters complaining about postal delays, telephones, the sloppiness of municipal authorities, inflated electric bills, bribes in school admissions. One such letter pleaded, ‘Please halt the 47 Down train at XXX for a few minutes to save me the bother of waiting four hours for the next one to go home from the office.’ ” Laxman satirizes these expectations, hedged in by satire's own restrictions. In addition to being unable to halt the 47 Down train, Laxman's cartoons don't spur social revolution. Critiques question the performative ability of his visual political messages. OV Vijayan points out, “He doesn't take a debate forward” (Bhandari 2004, 2). Likewise, others like Ravi Shankar have opined that “There is no political comment, only political statement” (Bhandari 2004, 2). Laxman himself writes (quoted in Siegel 1987, 66):

Thus to many these cartoons don't “do” anything. They don't affect social revolution or reform. Why is it that the Common Man never speaks? Is satire just a moment of escape, of relief because nothing can be done? But do these critiques undermine the importance of “seeing”? Is “seeing” less action-oriented, less performative? Have we routinized democratic protest actions and thereby ignored an important component of democratic functioning? Isn't this “seeing” a mode of exploration, democracy's realization of itself?

The cartoon in Figure 2 shows Indira Gandhi chiseling her own image on the “sacred rock of democracy.” Indira Gandhi, India's prime minister from 1966–1977 and 1980–1984 governed the country with an iron hand. The opposition maintained that she was destroying democracy in India. The cartoon above responds to that charge. While she is seen fashioning democracy in her own image, she still denies the charges levied, retorting, “Nonsense, how could a frail creature like me destroy it!” Satire mocks this architecture of democracy. It helps us “see” the pith of democracy's sculpture, both the one being crafted and the ideal. Its protest is of a very different nature from the one seen in Figure 2 holding banners and democratically protesting the danger to democracy. The cartoon simply shows. It helps us “see.” It performs through caricatures and exaggerations. Through this performance it showcases the performance of democracy: its inherent contradictions. This performance is indispensable to illuminate the ideal and deviations from it. In this is its value where satire (almost shame-facedly) hides its hope, its vision of the ideal, and thus propels an incessant quest, a ceaseless questioning.

In Laxman (2005, 40). Reprinted with permission.

To me, humor is not a closure. By enabling a democracy to laugh at itself, it demonstrates that the journey is not yet over. I agree with Lee Siegel (1987, 68) when he writes, “Though satire points out vice and folly, its justification on the grounds that it changes social conditions … is a rationalization of its most primary aim which is, quite simply, to be funny.” I don't ignore the fact that often satire is for satire's sake, simply to be humorous. However, while the performative aspect of the drawing itself would justify the above conclusion and ridicule the arbitrary imposition of a democratic personae, the drawing out gives permission to move to a different plane altogether. The drawing out performs by showcasing the lack of performance of both the rulers and the ruled, that which inspired the drawing itself but soon somersaulted out of the de-limited orbit.

Storytelling

Laxman's cartoons have only a single line of text, but that single line has a distinct story to tell. The cartoons are cut-off at critical moments, a sudden freezing of the frame with something before and something after it, the before, the present, and the after being the storytelling, connecting critical understanding to experience. Even though cartoons appear in isolated frames, they tell stories, they have a history. Laxman's cartoons provide a history of modern India not only in terms of its chronological breadth but also in showcasing the history of its democracy; its grappling with poverty, unemployment, ineffective policy decisions, etc. Most important, it showcases the forward movement of democracy through all crises, and in doing so, Laxman portrays its hopefulness.

How is a cartoon with ghosts crawling out from tombstones deemed “hopeful”? Don't ghosts signify a closure, an end, and does not the melancholic humor in this cartoon similarly signify the end of hope? The cartoon in Figure 3 epitomizes events in the late 1980s when Roop Kanwar was burnt alive on her husband's pyre in Rajasthan. Very few politicians openly condemned the re-birth of the sati system (Laxman 2005, 136). This incident mocked all of the glorious principles in the Constitution of India, which was drawn up in 1947 with promises to propel India toward a bright era of modern progress. Forty years after independence were the “midnight's children” turning into midnight ghosts instead?⁴

In Laxman (2005, 136). Reprinted with permission.

Satire revels in story-telling. The tombstone reads “Buried Decades Ago” but the ghosts creep out “Because they have political influence, I'm told.” This is a story. But not all of the stories have been told. Multiple stories layer the cartoon in fertile complexity. The congruence of these multiple stories creates both amusement and anguish. We try to discern the story behind the Common Man's anxious expression and silence, the story of the ghosts' death and subsequent appearance. None of the stories can be strictly demarcated. The ghosts blur all distinctions between the living and dead, not only of persons but of issues as well. Satire “haunts” this political predicament. Its storytelling seeks to exorcise the apparitions. The cartoons don't showcase a happy ending, but are instead grim and gloomy. The anxiety stems from prospects that could be otherwise. This is not bereft of hope. In this vision, in the capacity to (story) tell lies hope.

Conclusion

Drawn especially for the collected volume titled Brushing Up the Years: A Cartoonist's History of India 1947–2004 (2005), the cartoon shown in Figure 4 is Laxman's comment on his political art and his subsequent showcasing of politics as art. There is chaos everywhere. The dynamic nature of the comic frame satirizes this performance of democracy. However, the story is far from complete. The ink is not dry. The cartoonist's brush draws out the multihued picture by drawing in with the paint brush that still drips paint. The Common Man sits apart and sees all. His position enables a panoramic view, and he gazes bewildered at the political pandemonium. He perceives and discerns. Satire humorizes the degenerate real, the political chaos. By setting itself apart, satire provides a perceptive glimpse at the abyss between the ideal and the degenerate real. The contradictions stubbornly guard against any closure. Democracy waits in anticipation to be constantly re-made. Through this cartooning of democracy, Laxman draws in and draws out the complex nature of democracy's political functioning. This critique is not a negation of democracy but a probe at its embedded possibilities, its capacity to be otherwise. By cartooning Indian democracy, Laxman Brushes Up its potential.

In Laxman (2005). Reprinted with permission.