Of museums and memoirs

Hell hath no fury like a would-be minister scorned. A soap opera of revenge is apparently playing out in the media, as Lord Michael Ashcroft, a former friend of British Prime Minister David Cameron, has, in an unauthorised biography Call Me Dave, tried to reveal inner circle “secrets”. All kinds of insinuations are being spilled out slowly, ensuring its bestseller status even before the book is released today on October 5.

Of course, nothing sells like smut, but the interesting thing is that the government has not tried to ban the book, nor has it reacted. In a far more devastating attempt, the book has now tried to involve Mr Cameron’s spouse Samantha Cameron in the row, hinting at rumours about the early years of her marriage to the Prime Minister. While the tabloids are having a field day, many of those who, till now, were no fans of Mr Cameron, are actually beginning to sympathise with him.

Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold. But to be effective it must be credible and backed by facts not innuendo. Most of us remember only too well that Mr Cameron and Lord Ashcroft had been very close. But the millionaire became estranged once he realised that he was not going to be given a top job in the government. Strangely, through the book, he has done everything to ensure that he might never be offered one!

Biographies should, ideally, not be written with an obvious bias and usually authors are careful not to cross the line between the truth and allegedly defamatory or gratuitously sensational “revelations”. Lord Ashcroft doesn’t seem to care. Mr Cameron has obviously decided he will not dignify this with a response — for now. Watch out though, he might be working on his own revenge memoirs!

From cooking up revenge memoirs to actual cooking! This week belongs to the Great British Bake Off, a competitive event that has completely caught the imagination of the Brits as they “flour” each other. TV reality shows have proven to be much more exciting than soaps for viewers and this talent show, in which homemakers and amateurs turn into rising stars, is becoming increasingly popular.

While continental style bakes have never been part of traditional Asian cuisine, this show has bridged that gap. There is an encouraging diversity among its finalists, one such being Nadiya Hussain from Luton, Bedfordshire.

The young Muslim mother has overnight become a role model for many. At a time when media abounds with portrayals of Muslims as terrorists, it has been a sheer relief for the British Muslim community to see the projection of a hard working, imaginative, disciplined young mother, with a penchant for cakes. Ms Hussain, who wears, both her hijab and her British identity, with pride is a self-taught baker. Her parents were first-generation migrants who arrived in the UK to settle down amongst a community of other Asians in Luton. She began baking in school, like many other British kids. In media reports, she has said that she often wondered why the dessert in her father’s restaurant did not extend beyond ice cream?

Though traditional Asian sweets might have been too exotic for the British palate, perhaps, Ms Hussain will now add a whole new range of sweet endings to the traditional Bangladeshi meal. Her success has reinforced the need for alternative positive narratives for the British Muslim community. Very close to my own heart, however, is the ongoing exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum on Indian textiles. Not only does the displayed fabric reflect the enormous amount of talent and wealth of design in India, it also showcases philanthropy — without which many museums would not exist today.

Whether loaned from personal collections or sorted out of junk shops or sourced from the large raj memorabilia lying with the British, this striking kaleidoscope is indicative of Indian collective enterprise and diversity. From different looms — ancient and contemporary — and myriad states, the variety of the textiles was extraordinary. And then, viewing the suspended chintz-printed tent of Tipu Sultan, aggrandised by the British, one cannot but be overwhelmed at our heritage and how far it has been dispersed.

Yet, we continue to have a deep disrespect for tradition and antiquity. One of the pieces making headlines here is a 17-metre appliquéd wall-hanging from Gujarat, found thrown on the pavement outside a Brooklyn warehouse in New York. It was donated to the V&A by the man who picked it up and now it has pride of place on one entire wall of the museum. As we try to set up the Partition museum in Amritsar, titled, Yaadgar-e-Taqseem, we urge others to demonstrate a similar regard for times gone by and support voluntary enterprises like ours, so we can together preserve memories for the future.

The writer can be contacted at thepartitionmuseum@gmail.com