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From ennui to abyss

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UPTO a few months back Rang De Basanti promised to be the most celebrated film of 2006 even though we have only been through half the year yet. According to the latest news the film is now vying for Hollywood nomination. The impressive box office returns apart, Rang De seems remarkable for how intimately the age group 15-30 have connected with it. They see it as infused with a sense of ‘meaning’ that according to most Bombay filmmakers is contrary to the very idea of entertainment. The film narrates the tale of a group of fun-loving youth who outgrow a state of persistent frivolity and convert into fiercely committed political actors. Their inspiration comes from roles they are bamboozled into playing for a British documentary filmmaker. The roles – the legends of the freedom movement – Bhagat Singh, Sukhdeo and Rajguru among others take over the shapeless characters and mesmerize them into steely ‘terrorists’ who decide to execute the defence minister of the country. The Indian state apparatus soon makes an appearance and squashes them in its maws in the last scenes of the film. The end. But only after it becomes clear that the state is made of armoured alloy whereas the terrorists are made of tender, vulnerable flesh. The chief message of the film is the emergence of meaning from a quagmire of boredom and mental fatigue. The shooting of a film turns into a conversion experience for a group of overgrown adolescents who are not exactly groping for meaning in life.

The film, however, raises some discomfiting questions that need to be aired and discussed in a variety of contexts. A large majority of young viewers who connect with the film are clearly no votaries of violence. The main question relates to the alleged ‘connection’ they feel, the nature of the communion they experience with the restless and angst-ridden characters of the film? These are important questions that seem to crop up time and again. Some time ago the Parents Teachers Association United Forum in Mumbai sought withdrawal of school textbooks that described Bhagat Singh, Sukhdeo and Rajguru as terrorists (Indian Express, Pune, 5 May 2006, p. 3). Clearly we have come a long way since the word ‘terrorist’ had a more or less descriptive meaning, providing a contrast with nonviolent or legally acceptable means of protest. The parents and teacher’s worry may be that a martyr like Bhagat Singh could soon be clubbed with a Bin Laden, the very next step. Indeed, definitions do need to be modified for an era where newspeak like ‘collateral damage’ has come to reign and jumbo planes rather than the little pistols are the chosen weapons of attack.

The parents and teachers in Mumbai would perhaps have done a greater service by initiating a discussion on why Bhagat Singh should not be called a terrorist instead of opting for the far less challenging course of demanding proscription of the particular book. Such debates could enliven the mind-numbing academic atmosphere in our schools where cramming is regarded the highest form of intellectual activity. If Rang De can become the big hit that it obviously has, the younger generations are clearly giving us a clue as to where their historical interests lie. Generally a generation finds its own sense of historical relevance and no amount of imposition or dictating helps.

However, this is no place for value judgments but to only make explicit the premises of all such debates and the origin of the moral and intellectual discomfort while debating violence. Clearly, we do not need to create a semantic environment where my ‘terrorist’ is always a good man, and your terrorist is the devil himself. Let us look at arguments that make violence seem understandable or acceptable if not endorsable.

First, righteous violence is invariably retaliatory. This is as true for nations in modern times as for children who remain entangled most of the day in the name of retaliatory violence, leaving their parents perpetually confused and annoyed. Generally, for every single specific instance of violence it’s often possible to analyze and pinpoint the first hit. But a relationship with a violent history does not easily lend itself to such precise analysis and may even be a waste of time. The pristine moment of the first hit is probably just an imaginary construct distilled out of the murky waters of a complex past. Who hit first seems a profound moral issue inviting indepth historical analysis. But it can quickly degenerate into the argument of a rapist who blames the ‘come hither’ looks of a fashionable young lady for his own deeds. Aggressive swashbuckling violence is at any rate way off the contours of modern political discourse. The film Rang De spends adequate time establishing the excesses of an unwieldy and cruelly unresponsive state apparatus before the advent of heroic action and thankfully the well-sequenced events make it clear who hit first. Do we see the same clarity between the US and the Taliban?

Second, by its very nature, retaliatory violence is reactive and driven. ‘He asked for it, he provoked me, he made me do it’ summarize this sort of moral position, and of course ‘he will make me do it again’ explains the internecine nature of such violence. In a profound sense thus the core argument behind retaliatory violence makes it ethically moribund. The quietly dangerous message here is, ‘I am not responsible for my deeds.’ Non-responsibility as everyone knows is where ethics terminates. ‘I am unable to cease the violence. If you wish to end the violence talk to my adversary, not me’ seem to describe the situation pithily. Clearly in such situations the two warring parties cannot be left to themselves and a third party has to mediate for any effective action. Does this explain why the US did not want UN intervention in its dispute with Iraq?

Third, sure, there will always be a few people who like blood and gore for its own sake. But for others violence would seem to have two main consolations. First, a violent act immediately spells courage, ruling out faint-heartedness which is crucial to anyone’s self-esteem. Second, violence is also the most unambiguous response possible, reflecting a complete clarity of purpose. Contrast it with the untidy political strategy of a Gandhi who would unleash a movement and then get busy at the other end trying to stem it, perhaps even unable to bear the consequences of his own actions. Violence will always be popular among youth who spend long hours analyzing the mealy-mouthed righteousness of their elders with the singular purpose of compiling comprehensive lists of double standards. This intense activity may lead them to ennui or riotous fun or sometimes, zealous commitment to new ideals.

Fourth, violence is more dramatic than peace in an aesthetic sense. Violence makes for better literature and more enjoyable daydreams, enabling our aggression the sort of free play that everyday life rarely permits. In fiction like Rang De we often deal with rehearsed rather than real violence. The audience identifies, not with the gory scenes but with the ‘as if’ aspect of the story, admires not the violence perpetrated by the characters but their blind recklessness in following the voice of their conscience. Peaceful action is generally incapable of bringing out the moral valour and recklessness with sufficiently clarity or dramatic impact. In brief then what seems admirable is the same old moral integrity that you see in a Bhagat Singh or a Gandhi. The parents and teachers in Mumbai are right. It is difficult to see Bin Laden as a morally inspiring figure. He is just an exceptionally clever man who outdid the Americans through his cold-blooded single-mindedness. And now it’s the turn of the Americans!

But what if Bin Laden too inspires some? Is it really obvious at all why Bhagat Singh should not be called a terrorist and that Laden should be? Does it seem worthwhile for the parents and teachers in Mumbai to open up a debate rather than close it? Clearly who should be termed a terrorist and who shouldn’t is one of those debates that would contribute more through continuation rather than quick closure. Some debates are enriching precisely when they carry on unresolved. Who is a terrorist is not a question like Narmada or big dams in general that require a deadline that would allow us to make sensible executive decisions. You need experts from a number of fields to suggest the right position on dams, but the definition of a terrorist (and other villains) needs to arise from social consensus at a popular level.

Not long ago we had another film Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara which flopped at the box office but received critical praise. This film deals as much with the deteriorating mind of an aging man as our collective parricidal guilt in having ‘killed’ Gandhi. Let us not forget that while Bhagat Singh was killed by the British, Gandhi was murdered by an Indian. The film deals with the violence that we may do to ourselves rather than to others. The aging protagonist in this film picks on an incident from early childhood when he targeted a colour-filled balloon tied over Gandhi’s picture and shot it with an arrow. This was done in complete innocence or so it seemed till the child’s uncle thrashed him, unnecessarily magnifying the significance of the peccadillo forever. This is precisely the opposite of the ennui that Rang De Basanti deals with. The film confines itself to the gray realm of morality, refusing to acknowledge the clarity of black and white moral distinctions, in the process making us as viewers complicit in Gandhi’s murder. At the end as one leaves the cinema hall one sidles away feeling like a guilty accomplice. Small wonder the film was not a resounding popular success! As a 14 year old adolescent who accompanied me to the film said – ‘I like the film but I don’t understand it.’ Rang De Basanti poses no such complex problems. Strangely though, both Bhagat Singh and Gandhi have martyrdom in common! And yet why is it forgotten that Bhagat Singh was executed by the British, while Gandhi was murdered by one of us?

If the young audience connects, not with the violence in Rang De Basanti but the moral courage and the sense of purpose shown by a band of apparently frivolous youngsters, it’s definitely a healthy sign. If the youth connects with the moral transition of a group from endless ‘time pass’ activities to meaningful political action, it is again commendable. But is it obvious that violence is not what makes the film seem attractive? Or does every generation have to go through a phase of anger before settling down into a sedate middle age when removal of wrong books seems more appropriate than a stimulating moral debate?

What, however, worries is that Rang De Basanti rips the innocent fun of a band of youngsters in the face of a crisis to reveal the coarse layers of ennui beneath. The film also seems to resolve the ennui through an existential leap, a precipitous act of commitment. I am not sure that this transition from restless ennui to the abyss of violence is culturally healthy. Is the storyteller illustrating tragic heroism or is he dealing with precisely the sort of group profile found behind both the 9/11 and the London subway attacks? Many of the youth involved in these two incidents were educated, bright and motivated individuals looking for a sense of meaning in life. When they did find meaning it was nothing short of catastrophic and suicidal violence made legitimate through blinding faith. The question is – does Rang De Basanti suggest that both our heroes and villains traverse the same moral pathways? And whether they are heroes or villains depends on our personal likes and preferences. This aspect of the film seems rather disturbing.

Ratnakar Tripathy

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