In the summer of 1987, when I was still a graduate student in the US, I was visiting my parents in Delhi. My father came home one evening, beaming and eager to share with us the highlight of his day: that Salman Rushdie has visited him in his office. The awkward relationship that the writer had had with Indira Gandhi was a thing of the past, and he seemed to have gotten along reasonably cordially with her son and political successor. Rushdie had chatted for quite a while with Shouri in his office, talking of many things. One theme that was discussed was censorship and under what circumstances the government would ban a publication. Shouri said he had told him that in his understanding of Indian polity, the government would always place the maintenance of law and order over the freedom of speech of individuals.
I was to recall this reported conversation a little over a year later, when I was back in the US, and the storm over The Satanic Verses broke. The Government of India soon banned the commercial distribution of the book.
I had already bought my hardcover from The Book of the Month Club, and since I was travelling to India at the end of the year, decided to buy a second copy for my father. I was taking a small risk in carrying the book into India, since import of the book was prohibited. The argument that I had prepared in my defense, in case the book was discovered in my bags, was that it was not a crime to possess it, and I hoped to get away any unpleasant harassment at the Customs by indulging some discreet name-dropping. None of these were necessary since I sailed through the green channel unhindered.
When I unpacked my bags at home and somewhat triumphantly produced the book to give to Shouri, he quietly said thanks but he had already read it. And then walked slowly over to a bookshelf and pulled out his copy. When I flipped it open, I noticed the library stamp of the Prime Minister's Office, and looking up saw a twinkle in his eye and a wicked little smile flash across his face.
