Two movies and an idea

Last fortnight was one of those rare times, when I got to watch two recently released Tamil movies back-to-back – Maniratnam’s ‘OK Kanmani’ (OKK) and Cheran’s ‘JK ennum nanbanin vazhkai’ (The life of a friend named JK) (JK) – both, much hyped films for different reasons.

 

OKK was being pitched as a comeback film for Maniratnam who had been bogged down by two successive failures in Kadal and Ravan(an). Not very long ago, he had been written off as a moviemaker who had lost his touch. OKK, it seems has given him another lifeline. Marking his return to the romantic genre of films that he is adept at making, OKK has been declared a commercial success in India and the overseas markets.

 

But, in my opinion, OKK has nothing new to say. It is nothing more than a contemporary retelling of Mani’s Alaipayuthe (Saathiya in Hindi), released in 1999, minus its gloss (Remember how colourful the visualisation of the songs in Alaipayuthe were?). Like Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani, OKK upholds (long-term) commitment in a man-woman relationship. What is disappointing is that fifteen years hence, Mani has not been able to add any new dimension to the idea. And to think, I opted for this move over ‘Margherita with a straw’ is a classic case of good judgement clouded by linguistic sentiments!!

On the other hand, JK is an interesting experiment in the way cinema is consumed by the public. It is the first Indian movie to be directly released through DVDs and the first Tamil movie to be released directly over the Internet (Bollywood film, Striker was the first Indian movie to be released on YouTube simultaneously with its theatrical release), boldly bypassing the traditional channel, the cinema screens/theatres.  

JK, no doubt, marks an important milestone in Indian cinema. And the man of the moment is the film maker Cheran (of Autograph fame), ‘cinema to home’ being his brainchild. His company, ‘c2h’ produced the movie and also undertook the distribution of the movie DVDs across the state through a team of 4,000 handpicked dealers and 150 plus distributors.

This initiative hopes to battle two villains of Tamil cinema – theatre non-availability and video piracy– simultaneously.

Theatre availability is a real issue facing the Kollywood industry.

Take a look at the simple mathematics behind the problem. In 2004, 59 Tamil films were released, i.e., a little over one movie per week; a decade later, in 2014, this number had increased four-fold to 202, which is over four new movies per week. But the number of theatres screening the movies has not kept pace with the releases. Not only have the number of screens across the state not kept pace with single-screen theatres, their number has actually come down. According to the Tamil Nadu Theatre Owners Association of India, the number of cinema screens in the state has halved to 1,260 in 2013 from nearly 2,600 earlier. Since 2013, this number could only have gone down further.  This has meant that several small-budget movies, with no big star-cast,  either don’t get a theatrical release or don’t get adequate run time in the theatres; most movies get to have a theatre run for only about a week, even if they are doing well, as they have to make way for other forthcoming films.

It is no wonder that small-budget movie makers are compelled to bypass this conventional channel. But, it has not been an easy decision for the industry; antagonising the theatre owners, who are in charge of the last mile distribution to the public, can be a big risk to take.

To give a loose analogy, imagine a small FMCG company making ‘Agarbattis’ deciding not to sell their wares through any large retailer, instead opting to sell them directly (door-to-door marketing) or through online channels, and that too at an aggressive price.

Remember, the stakes are much higher in cinema!

JK DVD has been priced at Rs. 50, bringing down the viewing cost per head for a family of four to a mere Rs. 12.50. Compare this with an average ticket price of Rs.30 per person (average of ticket prices in rural, semi-urban and urban centres) for seeing it in the theatres; total revenues from a family of four work out to Rs. 120 – ten times the revenue earned from vending the movie through DVDs.

But, Cheran firmly believes in the commercial potential of his venture. Last heard, the movie has sold 18 lakh discs, raking in a neat Rs 9 crores in DVD sales, which is not bad! The movie is also available at http://c2hnetwork.com/ for streaming at a nominal cost of 3$.  

This idea is not new. Many Hollywood ventures, including several Disney animation movies, have been released direct to video. Japan and Philiipines have also experimented with this model.  Personally, it appeals to me tremendously because, I believe, as an economy, we should not be investing the incredible amounts that we do on mere entertainment. Call it a juvenile idea, or discount it as righteous nonsense, or even argue with me on the multiplier effect of the Indian cinema industry and its unparalleled ability to reach out to the global Indian diaspora. But, I believe no mature society should be pumping in the kind of money it does into films and stars.

C2H, obviously, makes economic sense only films for smaller budgets of 5-6 crores or less. The risk factors as I see them: in an industry, when money often chases goods, market forces will take over this game too. Budgets for these movies will slowly inch up and the marketability of the movies, irrespective of their quality, will increasingly depend on either the cast or the key crew. Also, cultivating the habit of buying original DVDs among the public (who are used to viewing them on pirated discs) and continuing to maintain drawing-room audience quality of the films would be critical for success of this idea.

As for the movie itself, it (JK) tells a heart-warming, feel-good tale of a young man who evolves from being a brash youngster into a highly successful businessman and caring family man. Though a tad preachy, the movie, directed by Cheran himself, marks a good start to a bold and novel venture.

Cheers, Cheran!

 

The big trouble with retired gentlemen....

Retirement and life thereafter can be quite traumatic for men who have led a busy life, a large part of it outside their homes. The forced confinement to the house that follows retirement does not go down well with most men. Dethroned from their official position, they suddenly find themselves like a king without a kingdom, a clock work without its key. Beleaguered by a sense of insecurity over their finances and disheartened by a lack of purpose in everyday life, these men often drive their families up the wall.

This blog is a humorous take on the antics of those gentry who have called it a day to hit the hay, but are yet to come to terms with their superannuation.  While the issue may be serious, I have tried to find humour in the sticky situations these men precipitate (of which I have abundant experience), and appeal to you all to read it as such.

It’s all about money, Honey!                   

Two things that a retired gentleman has to contend with from day one:

·         Less money to manage his expenditure, and

·         More time, in fact, all the time, to brood over it.

So the first thing that he does, or overdoes in most cases, is to attempt to tighten his purse strings; in doing so, he pulls the strings so hard that they end up as the proverbial noose around the family’s neck.

His repeated scanning of power bills, telephone bills and grocery bills to identify areas where he can cut corners starts as a past time, but quickly degenerates into a fixation.

Soon enough, his wife finds her carefully-balanced family budget being subject to a C&AG-type scrutiny. She is interrogated in detail over a wide spectrum of issues right from:

·         her choice of groceries (why can’t we buy masoor dal instead of toor dal, it’s a lot cheaper!)

·         her wisdom in opting for specific brands of shampoos (why use these chemicals on our
            heads? Won’t shikakai do?)

·         her plea to replace the broken kitchen mixer (can’t you hand grind the masala?)

·         her decision to take a cab to a friend’s wedding (But, bus no: 309 stops just opposite the
            venue!)

·         down to even her basic need to make a phone call (why can’t you simply Whatsapp? It’s
            free!).  

After years of running the household with less finances and lesser help from her husband, she is unlikely to take kindly to this audit. Add to this, his sermons on how she could bring more efficiency into her household management, and she has had it!

What follows is inevitable! Confrontation, followed by cold war!

In the early days of his retired life, when hubby dearest offers to accompany his wife for grocery shopping, she is pleasantly surprised and looks forward to having some quiet time with him. But, alas! Her expectations are to be belied sooner that you can say ‘bazooka’!

Her miseries start at the grocer’s from whom her spouse demands a small discount on MRP (like what the big retailers offer); at the medical shop, he insists on a senior citizen’s rebate; at the restaurant, he tries to negotiate an additional free serving of chutney for his idlies; the milkman, he chastises for rounding off small change to his favour, and the vegetable vendor, he accuses of cheating and demands to inspect his weighing balance.

 Who did these people think he was, Mukesh Ambani? Don’t they know, he no longer gets a raise (pun unintended ;)) these days! Does anybody (in a veiled reference to his family members) know how woefully inadequate his pension? Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...... All the way back home, the poor woman has to hear him rant on how everybody is out to cheat him and how nobody understands the difficulties of a pensioner.

When he is not giving the world around him a hard time, he keeps himself busy planning his next attack on two parties he loves to hate - his banker and the taxman. Visiting the bank becomes his most favourite past time and twice a week, his banker receives a visit from his disgruntled client demanding why certain tax has been deducted, a fixed deposit closed or some faulty debits not yet reversed.  No new-age banking facilities, be it the ATMs, net banking or phone banking, can keep our senior citizen off the bank premises. It is a different story that his every visit to the bank ends on a disappointing note as he had expected his bank balance to grow like Jack's bean stalk but had to eventually reckon with the hard fact that money grows neither on trees nor on bean stalks!

If the banker is a foe with whom he can fight an intimate duel, the elusive taxman remains frustratingly remote and inaccessible, but with tentacles long enough to chop off substantial chunks of his meagre savings before he knows it!

Dressed to kill 

The retirement complex these gentlemen suffer from is best manifested in the way they dress. On this parameter, the retired gentry fall into two categories: 

One, the category of men who dress to make a statement - although his NRI son has gifted him some nice Lacoste t-shirts, our man chooses to wear his old,  tattered, worn out clothes, which have been lying in his wardrobe since prehistoric times . Ask him why he is so dreadfully dressed and he will shoot back that an old retired man like him was free to roam around in his langhoti and nobody in the world would care two hoots!

The gentlemen falling into the second category unleash terror in a different manner – they raid their son’s wardrobe for his jeans and t-shirts in a naive attempt to look young! They dye their hair jet black but are too lazy to shave of their greying facial hair. The resulting effect is cataclysmic!  Top it up with their demands to have their hair (or what is left of it) dressed at a unisex parlour and to hang out at a coffee joint, and the torture is complete!

The idly-vada economic theory

One other defining trait of our distinguished citizen is his favourite discussion topic of ‘idly-vada economics’. As he grows older, he weaves a time warp around himself and finds inordinate pleasure in repeatedly reminiscing the (g)olden years of his life, when a pair of idlies dunked in mouth-watering sambar cost merely an ‘anna’ (a denomination equalling one-sixteenth of a rupee).

His fondness for food frequently drives him to a nearby Udupi restaurant (sometimes on the sly ;)) where he tucks in a plate of idly-vada with gusto. For him, the cost of a single plate of idly-vada is the barometer of the prevailing inflation. It is sort of like the purchasing power parity concept; call it the ‘idly-vada parity index’, if you will. So every purchase in the house is equated to the cost of a plate of idly-vada and judged whether the purchase is rightly priced or over-valued. It works somewhat like this:

A movie ticket at a single-screen theatre for Rs 75 equals 1.5 times the cost of the plate of idly-vada: 

Verdict: Appropriately priced!

 A ticket for the same movie in a multiplex for Rs 300 equals 6 plates of idly-vada :

Verdict: Horribly overpriced!!

'Yaadon ki baarat'....

His pet obsession with idly-vada can still be discounted as a mild quirk, compared with his brash decision to take over the kitchen from the woman of the house, who has been running it for years. 

It begins with frequent flashbacks of his mom’s or grandmom’s recipes, which he coaxes his wife into recreating for him. If his overtures fail, he jumps into the fray to try his own hand at cooking his favourite dishes.  What follows is mayhem!  Suffice to say, at the end of his culinary exploits, the kitchen resembles the Kalinga war field crossed with the Corporation dumpyard!

And let's not even talk about all those sweets, chocolates and other goodies that frequently go missing from the kitchen!  

I am the master of my cubbyhole universe 

Yet another exasperating habit of our gentleman is his total hijack of the morning newspapers (everybody else has to wait till he is done) and his complete monopolisation of the television set (nobody else gets to hold the remote).

Newspaper reading is an early morning ritual, as vital to his existence as the air he breathes.  He reads the papers from end to end, critically analysing each news item and churning out his own theories along the way.  He has more views on how this country should be run than the PMO’s think tank. When he doesn’t find good reception for his ideas among family members, he starts to flood the mailboxes of newspapers with their ‘letters to the editor’.

His unsatiable romance with television is yet another matter of major heart burn for the family. All day long, the family is forced to watch nothing but the news channels and re-runs of B&W movies from the 1950’s and 60’s. Not easy, that one! 

Excuse me! I am a senior citizen!

Despite playing dangerously with the world around, he escapes unscathed by uttering four powerful words  – “I am a senior citizen” – words that pull the pull the air out of the opponent’s lungs, much like Shashi Kapoor’s, “Mere paas maa hain” line in the Hindi movie ‘Deewar’.

All his conversations with the world at large invariably begin with him mentioning his age, as if it were an esteemed title he has earned. But he is also shrewd enough to use this as a trump card to:

·         jump queues (Madam, I am a senior citizen, I can’t stand for too long; can I please go before you)

·         excuse himself from attending functions he is not interested in (Sorry Sir, I am touching 70; of late, my mobility has become very restricted; I won’t be able to make it to the event....)

·         avoid the ignominy of getting frisked at malls and other public places (Young man, I am 72 years old, I already have one foot in the grave, why do you think I would be interested in weapon trafficking at my age?)   and

·         crush tele-callers selling financial products (Boy, I am 68 years old ; still interested in selling me a personal loan?). 

At the end of the day, it is this magic mantra that saves our old man from the unwise and immature world around him!

Political decency and the Periyar-Rajaji paradox

In India, over the last 10 months,  high-voltage election hungama has hogged the headlines, with several name-callers adding spice to it. It started with the ‘chai-wala’ being pitted against the ‘shehzada’ and the ‘Italian’ against the ‘Gujarati’, and culminated in the ‘crane’ calling the ‘gun’, ‘toxic’ and a ‘liar’. Along the way, there were several more episodes of mud-slinging by our netas, which the Indian public quietly watched from the ring.  

There was once a time when the complete absence of chivalry and decency among our leaders did not upset us. But, not anymore.  In an encouraging sign of an evolving democracy, the recent Delhi election results have proved that the Indian voters do attach a great deal of value to political decency among our leaders.

This blog is an eulogy to two great leaders of a bygone era, who stand out as shining examples of people who believed in playing the ball and not the man.

Ironically, it was a die-hard politician, the ex-CM of Tamil Nadu Mr M. Karunanidhi who once famously declared, “Political decency must be preserved at all costs...”, and cited the example of the friendship between EV Ramaswamy Naicker and C. Rajagopalachari , two giant figures who have played important roles in shaping the socio-political landscape of Tamil Nadu.  It is unfortunate that not many Indians, outside of Tamil Nadu have heard of the former, whereas the social and cultural contributions of the latter are more or less forgotten by the current generation of our countrymen. (Contemporary historian Ramachandra Guha has, however, given these two men their due credit in his book, Makers of Modern India, 2010)   

Actually, the story of their friendship is a case of curious chemistry between two diametrically opposite public personalities. Unlike the unique relationship between Nehru and Gandhi – two uncharacteristic political allies united by a common cause, the bond between Periyar and Rajaji  was a strange one - of harsh political rivalry in public and warm personal affinity in private.  

EV Ramaswamy Naicker, a.k.a Periyar, the chief architect of the Dravidian (self-respect) movement that sought to eliminate caste and untouchability from the society, was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist and rationalist. Coming from a relatively lower caste, albeit a rich household, he was extremely vociferous about his disdain for religion and Brahminism, which he believed were at the root of the social and economic inequalities in the country.

He scandalised the God-fearing section of the society by proclaiming that, “anyone who believed in God was a primitive”.  He fought tooth and nail to give the indigenous Tamil (Dravidian) race a social berth and identity independent of the dominant Aryan/ Brahmin culture prevailing then. His radical stance on these issues earned him several enemies among Brahmins, who were then a dominant force in the society.  

Contrast this with the persona of C. Rajagopalachari a.k.a Rajaji, the epitome of the Brahmin elite – a committed theist and a renowned literateur. Deeply religious, and a pious Hindu, Rajaji was also a devout Gandhian who led the Salt Satyagraha movement in the South. 

An accomplished writer, he was one of the co-founders of the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, a body that primarily promoted Aryan culture; he also translated the great Sanskrit epics into English and authored a book on Hinduism.  

In short, he was a complete antithesis of what Periyar stood for.

One a well-educated, smooth-talking statesman, an intellectual and connoisseur of arts & literature, the other, a school drop-out but a sharp businessman and a fire-brand activist.

Chalk and cheese? The dissimilarities don’t end there.

Periyar was a staunch supporter of women’s rights and raised his voice against child marriages, orthodox marriages and suppression of women, and also promoted widow remarriage. He fought for women’s right to education and their equal rights to property. He held and voiced liberal views on divorce and birth control.  On the other hand, Rajaji’s views on women’s role in public life was pretty much conservative; to quote Ramachandra Guha, “he saw them as home makers and carriers of our culture, but not really as independent agents in their own right.”

Based on the social reforms initiated by Periyar at the grass-root level as the Chairman of Erode Municipality (Erode is a textile town in Tamil Nadu), it was Rajaji, who persuaded the former to join the Congress. Both the men were staunch detractors of caste-based discrimination and were united in their war against untouchability.

Initially, a committed member of the Congress and a devout follower of Gandhi, Periyar eventually fell out with both on the issue of reservation for the backward classes, which went against the Congress motto of treating all Indians as equals. While the Congress led by Gandhi believed that in India, religion (and hence, caste) could not be delinked from politics, Periyar was of the opinion that real freedom for people would come only from their liberation from the oppressive caste-based social hierarchy.  However, Periyar’s polarised stance on various burning issues did not stop Rajaji from trying to bring him back into the Congress fold at various junctures, albeit unsuccessfully.

Later, in 1953, on becoming the CM of Madras state Rajaji introduced a new education system which laid stress on students learning their family vocation to help them build upon their skills to earn a living. This was a genuine attempt to balance practical experience with academics. But, the Dravidan parties, including Periyar’s, protested vehemently. They saw this as a vile attempt of the upper class to return to the old caste-based (which was originally vocation-based) social order.

So, over a period spanning nearly five decades, the two men pitted themselves against one another, never missing a political opportunity to point their daggers at each other’s throats.    

And yet, on the personal front, these two men shared a warm rapport, one that is very rare in politics.  In his sunset years, when Periyar was faced with the threat of rebellion by his party men over his plans to remarry, the person he turned to for personal counsel was none other than his arch political rival, Rajaji.  The story goes like this. Periyar, at age 72, wanted to marry his long-time companion Maniammai, half his age, in order to nominate her as the heir to his party. On this matter, he consulted Rajaji, who, it is believed, advised against the marriage warning that it would do irreparable damage to Periyar's image.  Nevertheless, Periyar went ahead with his decision and married Maniammai. Some years later, when Rajaji called upon his ailing friend, he reportedly thanked Maniammai for taking care of his friend well. It is believed that the camaraderie exhibited by the two men in this meeting surprised Maniammai so that she likened their mutual affinity to that shared by a married couple.

When Rajaji passed away in December 1972 at the age of 94, it is said that an ailing Periyar, aged 93, insisted on attending the cremation, where he apparently broke down, possibly re-living memories of their kinship.  Incidentally, periyar exited this world exactly a year later, in December 1973, probably in search of his friend.

Of Margazhi, Meduvada and Music tourism....

In one more week, it will be curtains for yet another Madras Music Season (MMS) – the largest music fest in the world (in terms of number of shows) that brings together Carnatic music lovers from across the world!

While I can’t claim to be a connoisseur of Carnatic music, it has certainly been a non-elective subject in my life, as it is for every for every South Indian worth his/her upma. So, this is the time of the year when a part of me longs to be back home in Chennai. The month of Margazhi (Margashish in the North) that begins mid-December and ends mid-January is the only season in the year when the temperature in Chennai dips to around 25 degree Celsius, the city shivers (!!!) and its residents take out their woollens.

To me, the mere mention of Margazhi conjures up a heady cocktail of images – elaborate kolams, early morning bhajans, grand concerts, soulful music, scintillating dance performances, beautiful women in gorgeous Kanjeevarams and, of course, tantalising food, making Chennai a hedonist’s delight!  

 

Not to mention the early morning darshan of Lord Balaji, the deity of the month. For those inclined towards the bhakti marga, it is considered an ideal time to engage with and embrace the Divine. After all, didn’t the Good Lord Himself claim in The Gita that He is Margashirsha among months! (Chapter 10, verse 35)  

 

Not that secular Chennai forgets to celebrate Christmas – every large retailer peddling his wares on the famous Usman Road has a Santa Claus mannequin riding the reindeer sleigh with his bag of gift; in a way, this is about as close to winter as Chennaiites can ever get.

The elite class have no worries, so they enjoy (your) music...  (Kavalai edumilley, rasikkum mettukudi...)**

But the event that is quintessential of Margazhi is the Madras Music Festival.  Started in 1927, it is an annual event organised on an unparalleled scale with 1500-2000 concerts performed by nearly 300 artists across various locations in the city. <Link for the largest music festivals of the world>.

I remember my first experience as a fledgling Rasika attending a kutcheri at ‘The Music Academy’, the Mecca of Musicians. The show began and I watched mersmerised, excited about my first live concert at the Academy. After a particularly melodious piece rendered by the artist, I turned to my neighbour, a thin wiry old man in glasses, and enthusiastically remarked how wonderful the artist’s Keeravani had been! He responded with a shocked and disgusted look, much like the one St. Peter would give a habitual sinner, and mumbled that the raga rendered had been Simhendra Madhyamam and not Keeravani as I had wrong(ful)ly deduced.  With that, he got up from his seat and moved away a few rows, not looking back until he put enough distance away from me. That’s the sort of pedantic music lovers you get to rub shoulders with during the ‘season’!

Apart from these typical Rasikas, the festival also attracts the oddball music lovers from unexpected parts of the world. I’ve heard of an Italian national who is a regular visitor in the season. A plumber by profession, he works hard through the year to make enough money to afford him a trip to Chennai. While in Chennai, he takes up some affordable lodging and flits from concert to concert on a hired bicycle. End of the season, having had his fill of melodious music, he returns to his home and his profession. There are several others like him, who can be spotted in the music halls during the season. (It can’t be denied that, for many of us who are still a slave of the colonial mindset, flashes of white skin here and there does add to the credibility of the performing artist.)

Yet another major patron of these kutcheris is the crème-de-la-creme of the South Indian society— its NRI diaspora. This geographically distanced group chooses this time of the year to re-connect to its culture. So, every concert venue rings with the sounds of ‘Boston’ and ‘San Jose’ as much as it does with Bowli and Shankarabharam. Fashionable women in lovely silk sarees and clean-shaven men in full-sleeved jibbas with their irrepressible American slang indeed add a tang to the twang!!

Another big attraction for the concert goer is the mouth-watering delicacies the canteens at the auditoriums dish out during this season.  Here, the mind-boggling menu (which includes some delectable Tambrahm cuisine) takes on the concert-goer’s unabashed love of food and his unsatiating appetite. And this is one performance, the Rasika calls out Encore for! Running these canteens is big business, with some caterers enjoying near stardom.  At times, the choice of the canteen takes precedence over the choice of the artist, and that's the venue where a Rasika, who has his stomach in its right place, heads down to!

 

But dear, make an effort to take your music to the poor in the slums (Cherikkum seravendum adukkum paatu padi....)**

All these years, Carnatic music has remained the bastion of the rich and the elite. This music season, maverick musician TM Krishna and his team have set out to change that. The team is organising concerts in the slums on the Marina for the underprivileged sections of the society.

 

While MMS can boast the largest number of performances for a music fest, its audience has pretty much remained confined to a small group. Given the large number of concerts happening simultaneously across different venues, it is only a few leading artists who are able to draw the crowds. It is a sad reality that in many concerts of upcoming artists, the number of people on the dais outnumbers the ones below.

In this context, I think Krishna’s initiative, apart from achieving its stated objective of inclusivity, can vastly help widen the reach of this rich genre of music and earn it a new audience.

Also, while the music fest draws discerning Carnatic music lovers from across the world, in our own country, it is a little-known and even less-publicised event confined to peninsular India. This can be changed by including other Indian classical art forms in the event’s repertoire, thus making this fest appealing to a larger section of Indians. The idea of music tourism has huge commercial implications; in other words, there is something in it for everybody – the state tourism department, private tourist operators, tourist infrastructure providers and, of course, music lovers. Acting together, these parties can turn MMS into a Music Megafest - India's answer to Wisconsin's Summerfest!


**Lyrics from Vairamuthu’s national award winning ‘paadariyen padippariyen’ song in K. Balachander’s movie, Sindhu Bhairavi (1986)

Why a temple for Godse is a dangerous idea...

Like millions of my fellow-Indians, I was outraged by the recent news that some Hindu right-wingers are planning to build a temple for Godse all over the country, and declare January 30^th as ‘Shaurya Diwas’ or 'Bravery Day'! This was nothing short of sedition and utter disrespect for the father of the nation! Gandhi is a national icon and symbolises this country in more ways than one, and here was a group that wanted to idolise his assassin!

But first let’s ask why it has taken Godse’s supporters 66 years to decide to deify him. Surely, if it was felt that his act was one of great heroism, a shrine for Godse would have come up much earlier – if not during the initial post-independence years of the Congress regime, at least during the years of the Janata party rule (1977-1979), or during the BJP rule (1998-2004). So what took them so long to proclaim him a messiah, and why now? The only answer can be that, it is not so much the glorification of Godse that the forces, that be, are interested in; rather, by glorifying Godse, they are implicitly taking a hardline Hindu (read anti-Muslim) stance.  And, the answer to why now is of course that the right-wingers have never had the kind of political clout that they enjoy today.

From his last speech in the court (courtesy: youtube.com, Google docs), it appears that Godse was a man guided by strong nationalist emotions. In as much as Godse respected Gandhi for his service to the nation, he felt that Gandhi’s idea of non-violent struggle had become irrelevant and unworkable, and the old man simply refused to accept it. Godse also hated Gandhi’s pro-Muslim stance and was extremely angered by the leader’s submissive acceptance of the country’s partition.  It is another thing that the Hindu hardliners did not deem Gandhi a true Hindu and strongly disagreed with his interpretation/practice of the religion (courtesy: Ramachandra Guha).

Godse abhorred Gandhi’s methods, and saw himself as a revolutionary who though it was his duty to save the country by eliminating Gandhi. With Gandhi out of the scene, people could shake off all pretext of non-violence and take up arms to rid the country of its evils.

The story of Godse and Gandhi is not new. History is strewn with instances of leaders who had to pay for their political or social reforms with their lives – be it Abraham Lincoln for his role in the abolition of slavery in the USA or Martin Luther King for his activism in seeking the removal of racial discrimination for his fellow African-Americans. These two high-profile assassinations happened in the USA, supposedly the torch-bearer of human rights and freedom in this world. The question is, has this country allowed memorials to be built for the assassins of its leaders?

Likewise, will the Indian government allow shrines to be erected for Dhanu (the suicide bomber assassin of Rajiv Gandhi), and Beant Singh and Satwant Singh, the assassins of Indira Gandhi.

No doubt, Nathuram Godse firmly believed in the righteousness of his act. So did the others, and so does every Jihadi! Are we as a society going to condone their acts and declare these killers, martyrs!

We have known neither Gandhi nor Godse. Our knowledge of them is only from secondary sources. But, I think we know enough not to bet our stakes on the guy who takes to the gun to solve the world’s problems. Of course, I agree that Nathuram Godse’s point of view matters – our constitution gives all of us the freedom to be heard. But, building temples for him is akin to explicitly approving murder and murderers!

Finally, Indians are known to have a poor sense of history. If this propaganda continued, I fear, some years down the line, Godse could well be positioned as a hero and a martyr who laid down his life to rid the country of its evil leader, and that is what our children will read in their history books.

 It is ironical that, today, in our country, anyone can malign Gandhi and go scot-free, but God help the guys who dare to speak against Godse!

Vande Mataram!

Why PK is an important film

Last week’s events turned out to be bloody for the world, yet again destroying the fragile possibility of a globe undivided by religion. In India, religious bigots brought home the lost sheep back into the fold (‘Ghar wapsi’) in an attempt to right, what they believe to be,  generations of wrong;  this they did by dangling the carrot of material kickbacks, proving once again that the worship of Mammon (a biblical deity of riches and greed) is really the universal religion.

Meanwhile, other overzealous religious practitioners elsewhere in the world unleashed terror on unsuspecting school children and cafe goers. As Blaise Pascal, the 17^th century French mathematician once famously said, “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”

While all religions (cl)aim to refine and purify our souls, it is obvious they have not even  managed decent human beings in the first place. All the world’s religions (as they are practised today) and all their God's men have failed to teach us the first principle – of being simply human.

Going by the outcry the Sydney and Peshawar incidents have generated on social media, it is apparent that many of us are seriously questioning the usefulness of religion.  A friend and fellow-blogger & writer went all out to express his pride in being an agnostic in today’s messed up world. This reminded me of the quip by Kamalhassan (a self-proclaimed agnostic) in ‘Dashavataram’ – “I don’t say God does not exist; I only wish He did!” 

It is in this context that a movie like ‘PK’ has to be appreciated. Quite unwittingly, Raju Hirani & Vinod Chopra have released the movie at a time when mankind’s religious beliefs are being tested yet again.  

Coming as it has, two years after the ground-breaking Oh My God! (OMG) (released in 2012), the movie no doubt is a disappointment in terms of originality of theme. Unlike Raju Hirani's earlier movies, which were delightfully bold and fresh and brazenly ventured into unchartered territories, (my favourite has always been Lage Raho Munna Bhai for the sheer audacity of its theme – friendship between a goonda and Gandhi.)  'PK' lets you down on the novelty parameter.

But where does PK score is in its nobility of intent (despite being a commercial venture) and relevance of theme (unfortunate!). By raising very simple and basic questions, from the standpoint of a rational alien, the movie strikes at the very heart of the logic behind religion and related practices. Although the movie does remind one of OMG much too often, it is undeniable that the film rakes up fundamental issues that every person should confront and contemplate, some time or the other, or even better, now!

Forget 2015, check what the year 2035 holds for you.....

As the countdown begins for the birth of the new year, 2015, I took a leap ahead to wonder what life in India would be like 20 years hence, in 2035. Predictions for the year are everywhere– they range from the promise of a glorious future to the horrors of a holocaust. But, reality, as always, is likely to fall somewhere in between. 

In the last 20 years, we saw technology redefine the world. The coming years, experts believe, will be no different. Quantum computing, smart clothes, hologramic broadcast and nano technology are set to become household names.

But, even the reach of technology is limited; eventually, we have to contend with some stark realities – climate change, exploding human population (8.6 billion by 2035) and dwindling natural sources –  which will limit the boundaries of human progress.  

With that reality check, this blog tries to peek into what 2035 holds for an average urban Indian.

(Qualifier: This list does not pretend to be a serious or exhaustive compilation, but is mostly the result of a top-of-the-mind recall exercise. This list can be made more extensive and meaningful with your contributions. Look forward to hearing your views of the 'World in 2035'.)

Some milestones that India will touch between now and 2035:

According to UN estimates, in 2028, India’s population will overtake China’s, earning it the dubious distinction of being the most populous nation of the world.

Other kinder estimates suggest that India will emerge as the world’s third largest economy (based on nominal GDP) by 2030.

Masks and gloves will become a part of the school uniform for urban kids. Denser agglomeration in Indian cities will pose huge hazards to both humans and the environment. After years of reckless use of antibiotics, most Indians would have become immune to them, and the superbug will be one of the biggest challenges facing a-sixth of mankind.  

On a conservative estimate, a kilogram of rice will cost Rs.400 per kg. Increasing productivity notwithstanding, climate change, burgeoning population and declining acreage under agriculture will have the obvious consequence – food prices will skyrocket.

Government subsidies will be inadequate to cover the market prices, severely affecting affordability of the underprivileged population. To keep prices down, India will have to significantly step up its food imports, besides working miracles with its food storage infrastructure.

Homes in cities will be fitted with water meters, with consumption charged at a steep, escalating rate.

Personal privacy will be a distant memory. You will be under surveillance from the moment you step out of your shower to the moment you retire for the day (hopefully, not afterwards!).

Biometric testing will become mandatory for all personal identification. We’ll have discarded plastic cards and account numbers and progressed to using biometrics to operate our bank accounts. Ironically, at the same stroke, we will also have regressed to being an ‘angoota chaap’.

With unrestricted and unlimited access to our genetic information, the Government will play the ‘Big Boss’ with its citizens.

Biometric records of potential employees and grooms will be checked with police databases before employment/ nuptial agreements are entered into.

In the name of surveillance, mankind will consume enormous data storage devices, and generate and store massive amounts of useless data.   

Retirement ages will shrink gradually in both the private and public sector with the size of the workforce entering the job market far surpassing the jobs available. 

Employee welfare will be grossly neglected as companies aggressively pursue their elusive profits in a highly competitive business environment.
 

On the positive side, increasing awareness over the indiscriminate use of pesticides will give a big boost to organic farming; greater scale of organic food cultivation will be achieved and organic food products will become more affordable.

India’s space programme will be a money spinner for the government. ISRO would have followed up its highly successful MOM mission with several others and would be generating enormous revenues for the government by helping other smaller nations with their space programme.

As conventional energy sources start to dry up, India will increasingly look to the skies for help - solar power will meet a significant share of the country’s energy requirements.

 

E-tailing would have settled into a mature phase of growth after extreme consolidation. Discounts and easy returns will have disappeared, and footfalls would have returned to the malls heralding the victory of ‘touch & feel’ over ‘click & cart’, at least in some segments (for eg. garments, the largest segment of organised retail in India).

Not sure about Bollywood, but Tollywood films (Tamil movies) will have moved on to the digital medium and almost all small and medium budget films will be released directly on the Internet.


Last, but not the least, services such as googlemaps, youtube, facebook and whatsapp, to name a few, would have long since switched to the subscription-based model.

On the lighter side:

Switzerland will declare ‘Gujarati’ its fifth national language, and ‘dhokla’ its national cuisine. ‘Dhokla flavoured cheese’ will be on the hit list of Gujarati tourists.

Aradhya Bachchan will be cast opposite Rajinikant as the heroine in his new movie.

Ver.22 of the ‘Swachcha Bharath’ campaign will launched under a new name, and celebrities – Aryan Khan and Aradhya Bachchan –  will be found endorsing the campaign with vacuum cleaners and electric brooms. Meanwhile, the ‘aam aadmi’ will continue to enjoy unbridled freedom over his environment.

Some things will, of course, never change:

India’s geo-political disputes with Pakistan and China will remain unresolved.

A vast majority of Indians will still believe in the institution of marriage; Gold will touch Rs.150,000 per  tola, but Indians will not give up their love for it.

Unimaginative and irrelevant education will continue to make our children’s lives miserable.

Mumbai realty prices will continue to defy gravity and Mumbai Metro will still be under construction.