Book review: EP Unny's book on RK Laxman reflects on the evolution of cartoons in India

The cartoon is an art form that lends itself particularly well to political commentary and social critique. RK Laxman (1921-2015) was one of its finest exponents in India. His creation – the Common Man – earned him not only a large fan following across the country but also big honours such as the Padma Shri, the Padma Bhushan, the Padma Vibhushan and the Ramon Magsaysay Award. Cumulatively, this is an extraordinary feat for a cartoonist. As a popular chronicler of India’s post-independence trajectory, his work certainly merits an in-depth study of the kind that EP Unny has undertaken in the book RK Laxman: Back with a Punch (2022). Published by Paper Missile, an imprint of Niyogi Books, this monograph is a treasure house of information, anecdotes, insight and analysis. Unny, the author, is the Chief Political Cartoonist at The Indian Express. The book benefits tremendously from his deep knowledge of India’s cartooning history, and his intimate relationship with the art form itself. Unny writes, “You’d hardly find humans being transformed into animal forms or moustachioed men recast as buxom women in Laxman’s cartoons. Such devices are stock in trade for cartoonists but run the risk of laying bare deep-rooted prejudices or causing unintended offence.” He calls Laxman’s style “mindful caricaturing” since it moves away from “anatomical distortions” and tells the reader something important about the person. Those who have enjoyed Laxman’s autobiography The Tunnel of Time (1998) and Lavanya Karthik’s book _The Boys Who Created Malgudi: RK Narayan and RK Laxman_ (2021) will find Unny’s reflections quite enriching. The author has much to say about Laxman’s technical skills, his brand of humour, and the reasons behind the success of “You Said It” – the Times of India column that became the hallmark of Laxman’s career though he had also worked for Blitz, The Free Press Journal, The Illustrated Weekly of India and The Hindu. Unny writes, “The Common Man first appeared in 1950 and can count as contemporaries the cast of two all-time great comic strips – Peanuts born in 1950 and Dennis the Menace in 1951.” Unny reminds us of Laxman’s brilliance in making sure that “the whole of India” could connect with his character. Apparently, Laxman chose to dress him in a dhoti because this attire is “common to many parts of the country”. Though Laxman lived in Bombay (now Mumbai) when he created this character, he did not include any visual references to the city. Unny’s perspective is valuable because he does not speak of Laxman in isolation. He places the work in a broader context, comparing it with that of Laxman’s peers and predecessors in India and elsewhere. You will get to appreciate his output in relation to what was produced by David Low, Sidney Strube, Victor Weisz, Shankar, Abu Abraham, PKS Kutty, Mario Miranda, Ranga Nath, Rajinder Puri, Thomas Samuel, O V Vijayan, and Bal Thackeray. Going by this book, Laxman was not particularly fond of Delhi but, as a political cartoonist, his job demanded knowing the ins and outs of politics. This was a time before satellite television and social media. Unny writes, “He had to visit Delhi often enough to keep up with ‘national’ politics that was then made within the municipal limits of that old city. Laxman attended parliament sessions and observed leaders in action from the press gallery.” Those who think that Laxman was too mild in his political commentary, might do well to remember – thanks to Unny – the censorship that Laxman had to face during the Emergency imposed by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in 1975. He was in trouble. Unny writes, “The irony was that a milder Laxman was a bigger problem for the censor than a politically explicit Abu Abraham, whose drawing was minimal and caption said it all.” Since Laxman took the quiet and oblique route, officials were worried “whether some subtle message was hidden between lines”. Unny writes, “They found the easy way out by axing cartoon after cartoon.” Sadly, this book does not include any of Laxman’s cartoons. It would have been even more impactful with those powerful visuals that have now attained legendary status. Were the images not featured due to copyright issues? The reason is unclear. Unny does mention in his book that if Laxman’s cartoons on Mrs. Gandhi were “annotated and compiled”, such a volume “would make a political biography hard to beat”. Hopefully, someone will do that. As “a veteran of this wicked art”, Laxman has also been critical of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, Rajiv Gandhi, Morarji Desai and LK Advani. Unny writes, “Morarji Desai became the Chief Minister of erstwhile Bombay and decided to uplift the city morally. He banned all things that corrupted minds, from alcohol to crossword puzzles. Laxman hit back with a stiff caricature and stuck to it for life.” Laxman decided not to spare Desai as he saw the man as a killjoy. The issue of tax hikes was another big area of concern for The Common Man. The book draws our attention to the fact that often, when Laxman decided to express his anger about taxes, his protagonist appeared “denuded, covering himself with the day’s newspaper, having handed over all he has, including his clothes and shoes”. This is biting satire but Unny insists that Laxman did not provoke readers into “fighting” authority; he told them to distrust it. Unny’s writing will certainly make you laugh. He offers a hilarious description of the time when Laxman – whose application as a student was rejected by the JJ School of Art – was invited by the same institution to preside over their annual painting competition after he became a celebrity. The organizers wanted him to give a speech but they had no idea about what he was going to do. Unny writes, “The chief guest thanked the institute for making him what he was, a cartoonist. Had they admitted him when he applied, he said, he would have ended up as a full-fledged visualiser in an ad agency, promoting mosquito repellents.” Beyond Laxman’s work, Unny reflects on the evolution of cartoons in India. He invites readers to think about why politicians feel threatened by cartoons in today’s hyperconnected world, and what makes them crack down on “archival cartoons” used as “curricular material” in schools to engage students in critical thinking and discussion. Unny’s book is worth reading, from cover to cover, including the end notes packed with useful references for further reading and his brief biographical sketches of other cartoonists mentioned in the book. Chintan Girish Modi is a journalist, commentator, and book reviewer. ​_Read all the  **Latest News** **,**  **Trending News** **,**  **Cricket News** **,**  **Bollywood News** **,**  **India News**  and  **Entertainment News**  here. Follow us on  Facebook**,**  Twitter and  Instagram**.**_​