Sunday ka Funda

Much as I detest crass ambitiousness – whether it be in the professional sphere, or the one-upmanship of social interactions, not to speak about the more damaging one of close personal relationships – I find some kinds of politically correct and syrupy assertions to the contrary examples of stepping on toes. They convey that by not doing so, someone will benefit from the munificence. It gives them a higher place to function from.

When this becomes cultural, it results in supremacist ideology. A slightly different view is expressed thus:

“Politeness is organized indifference.”

― Paul Valéry

The idea behind much indifference is also supremacist – it can afford to ignore others by faking concern or shielding real intent. 

The discovery of Nehru

On Nehru's birth anniversary, the idea is not to take away from the majesty of the individual, but to bring into focus the dilemmas that human beings who are forced to be what they are not face.

As he could not give them the loin cloth ethnicity that would give them something to talk about, I suspect Nehru used the buzzword 'industrialisation' to make the British feel that they had done a good job of tutoring the natives. He had no agenda for industrialisation (except socialism!) and he was mighty afraid of the spectre he had created and also envious of those who could do so. Therefore, while Gandhi, who had no interest in the subject, happily partook of the hospitality of the Birlas, Nehru the angel of industrialisation stayed away.

It couldn't have been probity. It was contempt for the Marwari community that had the money and the business acumen to take India towards the unholy grail.

It may be difficult to digest the image of Nehru as a communalist, but in a larger sense he was. In that he was aware of where he came from and from where others did. The doyen of the Parsi community, J R D Tata, had an uneasy relationship with him. If Nehru knew his Mozart, had been to Cambridge and used his silverware with a flourish, so did most Parsis. They built an empire, believed in philanthropy and did not think it necessary to hide their westernised thinking. Nehru did not like that.

The final blow came when Firoze Gandhi, no mean parliamentarian himself, swept his daughter off her feet. The father never forgave that. Had he not strictly forbidden Indira during her childhood from reading fairytales?

With Muslims, there was talk of his 'Islamic flavour' and political amity, but when it came to brasstacks, things were different. In 1937, he rejected Jinnah's proposal for a Congress-Muslim League coalition saying that there were only two parties in India - the Congress and the
British. Many believe this was when Pakistan was born.

Another example of his parochialism is evident in his sending his widowed sister Vijayalakshmi's suitor, Syed Hussein, off on an ambassadorial assignment, thus putting an end to the romance. But on the poor man's death Nehru, the public romantic, did not forget to build a mausoleum in his memory. To be fair, he did look after Sheikh Abdullah's family when the latter was in prison, which made the Sheikh weep uncontrollably on the platform where the dead Nehru lay.

Millions may have followed his funeral procession and his popularity in life may been unprecedented, but it is also true that security guards hid behind the bushes of his house and the kitchens of his prospective hosts were examined before he could taste a morsel. His populism put him at risk.

Later in life, he was besotted with "the old Hindu idea that there is a divine essence in the world". His Will stated that his ashes be strewn over the Ganges. It may not have been a religious gesture, but two days before his death he had written about the "concept of dharma".

History judges people in many ways. One is to judge them by their last words. In which case Nehru saw to it that if the divine essence went out of the grasp of his family, divine wrath would turn upon the country. The architect laid the foundation in the form of a magic carpet. He could pull the rug from under our feet anytime he wished.

Did Nehru, then, also believe in voodoo tricks?

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[This was published in Mid-day, November 13, 1996]

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Also: Nehru, Ambedkar and a cartoon

Third Front or Facade?

How many Third Fronts will we have? Promiscuous political relationships are not likely to last simply because they are not meant to.

What do Nitish Kumar, Sharad Yadav, Naveen Patnaik, Deve Gowda, Om Prakash Chautala and Mulayam Singh Yadav have in common? Does the need to “form this anti-Congress, anti-Modi block” suffice? The BJP also wants a “Congress-mukt (free) Bharat” and the Congress does not want a “communal” party. Therefore, each can qualify as a Third Front if the idea is to oppose a bloc.

It is worrying that parties are coming together at this stage, for the stakes for horse-trading are high now. Rather than an anti-anything move, it appears to be one garnered to make themselves relevant. Many of them have been made irrelevant or have been snubbed. The CPI may not have high ambitions, but it is on the list of all these parties for an alliance. It has already tied up with the AIADMK.

Jayalaitha stated: “AIADMK and CPI have decided to enter into an alliance to face the upcoming Lok Sabha elections together.” Therefore, how would they dethrone Congress to form a “secular and democratic alternative” when the alliance itself if purely electoral?

Nitish Kumar had said, “It’s not exactly a merger of parties, but we can federate these parties.” Given that all of them have only a regional presence, how would they federate? What role would Odisha have in Bihar or UP in Haryana? How much of a presence do these parties have in states where the Congress or BJP are ruling? For that matter, do they even count in Delhi where AAP is holding fort?

Nobody quite knows what such a tie-up entails. Are these alliances designed for the Centre should the results be skewed? Who all would jump in and what happens to the different manifestoes and ideologies of the parties? How many ambitions will they have to deal with?

A small detail has been ignored. The Congress government is a UPA government formed with people like them. The BJP too had ruled as the NDA. Instead of working against the two big parties, the Third Front will in fact give them an opening to pick and choose based on their stated objectives. Did not AAP, which started as pretty much a Third Front prototype, without alliances, end up with ‘support’ from the Congress? Recall the Anna Movement hobnobbing with rightwing parties. What came of it?

There will be more middlemen who will help these alliances for their own ‘cuts’. The Third Front will be fractioned into many smaller groupings and some of these fighters will emerge as victors after joining forces with those they started out opposing.

© Farzana Versey

Bollywood’s Killing Fields

Her life is pornography. Even as their bare bodies are entwined for a few minutes of pleasure, Mahi Arora is capturing the scene on her camera.

I know a wannabe Mahi from years ago. Strange hands splashed whipped cream in her cleavage, crawling higher and lower than needed, the movements robotic. There was awkwardness in her demeanour. I watched this helplessly at a photographer’s studio. The girl and I both rookies, our silences bought by fake dreams. She was a struggling actress and I was there to capture that struggle, write about it, take the message to the world. I felt like a lowlife. And when I did speak, the response hit me: “We are preparing her for the movies.”

This was foreplay where everyone wanted to be a part of what might be a success story. Kingmakers, rag makers stitching clothes so close to the skin that the needles poked into pores. 

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The film Heroine has been panned by critics because it uses clichés. By turning away from clichés we often lose out on truth. It is superficial in parts because Bollywood is superficial.

The casting couch is a reality few want to accept even if they have made the mandatory visit to The Permanent Suite.  After the first time, it ceases to be about sex or even power. The “heroine ka rate-card” reveals how she is being degraded to fight for every endorsement, party invitation, paid guest appearance at some rich person’s wedding as the bride’s friend and not a celebrity. The diva is now a hanger-on, acting that part in real life so that she can retain the title of superstar.

I wept during the film not because Kareena Kapoor has torn every emotion to reveal shreds, but because I thought about whipped-cream Shanti. A name so common it had to be changed. It did not alter her destiny. Her foundation lay thick on the face, ending at the jawline, revealing another shade of neck. She was the tacky adornment in a few films that released in seedy cinema halls. Then, she disappeared.

I saw her a while ago at a televised award function. She was clapping away, her makeup a bit garish but not gauche, and a new body that she could afford to buy. Her rate-card had been made. She did not need to act anymore. Her applause was genuine. It was for a contemporary who had made it. She knew what their respective prices were. This was happiness projected.  

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Every day brings a new story of desperate measures to seek attention. Some years ago when I read about a starlet’s tale of woe, I knew there was something amiss. She called up a newspaper office in an agitated state to talk about a photographer who was blackmailing her. She said, “The pictures were taken of me in a bathtub, but there was no indecent exposure. It’s no big deal, but I just felt they should not be published anywhere.”

So why was she making a big deal of it? If she believed that a picture in a bathtub did not constitute indecent exposure, then what was she worried about? Nobody pushed her into it. She had posed for them, some had been printed, and she had not objected at the time. The photographer would not gain much, for the supply of women in bathtubs exceeded the demand. But, by creating a buzz, she sent out a message to those who mattered – the filmmakers – that she had no qualms about posing in such a manner. She had to rescue her soap bubble existence.

It is not difficult to understand the extent people will go to in order to become automated products in phantom factories. It is a cruel world and they unknowingly make it even more cruel by sleeping with the nightmare. Often, the women hang on to men, sometimes to further their career or to portray themselves as a hit pair or to enhance self-esteem.

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In Heroine a desperate Mahi, hands shakily holding cigarettes, liquor glasses, pills, eyes glazed with self-pity, is addicted to love. She clings to it and when she is tossed out like a squashed insect, its hair-like feet still writhing with life, she does not hesitate to use her private moments. She tells her PR agent to leak out the love-making clip with her star boyfriend. Had she captured it as a keepsake, or did she instinctively know that the only way to keep people was to be ready to risk losing them?

It happens with madams in brothels who were once prostitutes. They sting back at the new girls and the pimps with a mixture of benevolence and cunning. They are recreating their misery. The masochism psychologically scars them.

Heroine’s director Madhur Bhandarkar has created some caricatures. There is also pop psychology about people from broken homes and he is not as harsh on men. In a way, this works because the female star’s loneliness comes across more poignantly. She is leading an LSD existence, hallucinating about herself. Bollywood has amplified her persona, so when she sees it reduced in the bedroom or when her mouth tastes dust from the street, she internalises these as her own flaws. 

Clark Gable, who had a number of famous Hollywood stars as conquests, said he preferred prostitutes. “Because they go away and keep their mouths shut. The others stay around, want a bit of romance, movie lovemaking.”

He was expected to recreate in his bedroom what he had done under the arclights. That is the fantasy many of them begin to believe. And they try out various ruses on fading magic carpets.

Mahi, beaten and defeated, leaves for autumnal Europe where she can deny who she is. Is there really any escape? The Bollywood she was a part of thrives on killing identities. It is always synthetic spring here.

Published in Express Tribune, Sept 29

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Also an old post here: The Fedora in us