Writing on The Wall

Vemaraju Narasimha Rao

The tragedy of modern life, researchers say, is our failure to read the writing on the wall. That goes to show that the utility of the walls for the purpose of writing on them has long ago been recognized, even in the very old days, though we do not have much proof that the high and mighty walls of the forts and ram­parts of yore were ever put to this use. Which incidentally shows how far we have progressed from our forefathers. One reason that strikes me is that the paint industry was not as developed in those days as it is today.

The usefulness of the wall as a medium of communication has been long ago recognised. There have been numerous instances when the wall was put to much public good when the daily news-papers were pasted on them in some countries. For, otherwise, how does news spread to the poor and the inquisitive that cannot afford a news paper? We have of course that class of eager enthusiasts who snatch your newspaper on your train journey even before you have had time to open it, to have just a glimpse of it, with a promise to return it immediately, which promise is never kept. The borrower in his generosity with your paper, readily parts with a page of it to another seeker and thus it rapidly changes hands even before you have time to say. “Hey!” You reconcile yourself to it and when you have to get down the train it is next to impossible to trace your paper in the proper shape. Such is the appetite of the modern man for news.

The utility of the wall for purposes of propaganda is brought more forcefully at the time of elections - that is, till recently. But even in normal times, I have known a certain poet in a certain district town who blossomed forth into a great poet by sheer dint of graffiti. He organised a multi-coloured painting on the walls in his locality by asking passers-by, “Have you read Mr X’s poetry?”, to “Mr X the great poet have you read his latest work?” to finally proclaiming, “Great poet Mr X’s great work just released”. The job is neatly done.

The walls, as I said earlier, are freely used by all and sundry for various purposes. The imaginary benefactor would have us visit the “Mahatma Gandhi Hair Cutting Saloon” (Poor Gandhiji did precious little to grow hair on his pate) or insist on our patronising the “Netaji Laundry” (Netaji, might have been a good political launderer, which is beside the point). But in the times of elections or other political agitations, the messages are forceful and drive home the point straight to the reader.

More often than not, these writings remind us of bad book-keeping. One day, you would find “Long Live Z” and immediately afterwards, it is scored over and overwritten “Down with Z”. Yet on a subsequent day, you are pleased to observe that Z has been restored to his rightful place. And, this process goes on merrily.

One is struck by the sheer imagination, resourcefulness and originality of these scribes. One is quite sure that there is an army of them - both voluntary and mercenary workers, whose quiet and unobtrusive efforts go into this enlightening industry. The writings range from juicy couplets to outright obscenity and from forthright condemnation to forceful praise.

About half a century , when romance between boys and girls was highly discreet and private, you would find the loud proclamation of the affairs of a certain boy with a particular girl, or better still, between a teacher and a girl student, on the wall. This was purely for news value intended for propaganda among those interested in gossip. But with love making becoming more open and public and more aggressive these days, the lines have become more diversified in both content and form.

Even in my tours, I have often come across such writings on the walls as “Vive la Heroic Bengal” or “Kerala Government Zindabad” in some sleepy and remote Andhra Village, where the innocent villager does not know where from Bengal and Kerala have come.

The wall writers always appear to be at logger heads with the wall owners. Both the groups differ radically and are diametrically opposed in their assessment of the utility of the wall. While the scribblers are essentially sticklers to the utilitarian theory, the owners hold on to the protective and decorative theories. They even a stick a big bill “Stickers of bills will be prosecuted.” Fortunately such threatened prosecutions have been rare, if at all, as it is difficult to apprehend the nocturnal visitors, who do their job under cover of darkness and when all others are fast asleep.

As I said earlier, all this was to a large extent the position before the Election Commission assumed the role of kill-joy and decided to deprive the good citizens of their means of free entertainment, under the pretext of various laws. The Municipalities and Corporations also stepped in recently threatening to prosecute any person or party and claim compensation besides, for white-washing the walls, all in the name of beautification of the city. Perhaps, as a measure of “Clean and Green” drive! What else can you expect from the Municipalities except coming in the way of honest citizens and peace loving political parties? With the result one rarely comes across the much-missed paintings on the walls, except in the cases of the owners of shops putting up their own products for publicity.

I have always held the view that construction of shops and other structures on the thorough fares, besides being inartistic, deprive the passers by of much useful information and entertainment which they would otherwise have got. Even the boards installed by the Municipal Corporation indicating the locality and street number and house numbers in that street are blissfully pasted over by the small time computer coaching centre with impunity, as they know that it is not worth anyone’s while to spend time in prosecuting the small fry. And it also proves that, man still continues to be the best source of information even in these techno-savvy times, for you will have to ask some one to guide you to the house in that locality, which you are after!

The wall is no prosaic thing. It is not brick and mortar or even cement and steel. For has not Tagore warned us that the narrow domestic walls should not break us up into fragments? Remember the wall in the ‘Mid summer Night’s Dream’ which helps the young lovers to communicate through the hole! That is the spirit-Make Love, not War!

It would indeed be a very sad day, if there were to be no walls. For, what would happen to all those aspiring candidates who, like the proverbial cat, love to sit on the wall?

For a correct appreciation of the message of the writing on the wall, no great IQ is required. Modern writings are so easily perceptible. Only ignore the mutilations in the spelling and the grammar mistakes. These do not really count. What matters is the sense conveyed.

Well, is there still any one who doubts that walls are very necessary for a functioning democracy like ours and as a powerful and economical means of communication?