Emergent Noise

I stumbled upon another example of hypocrisy in the in Indian Society. The Indian Society holds the Manusmruti in highest regard, and much of the characteristics of Indian Society, including the oppression of women in all stages, has been dictated largely because of this document. Or at least, the document that is close to religious law has been used as an excuse for the oppression. This very document quotes :

“Marriage is of eight kinds – brahma (mutual consent of both the bride and groom), deva (gift of richly adorned daughter to an officiating priest of a great yajna), arsha (daughter in lieu of consideration given by the groom), prajapathi (mutual consent of families), asura (marriage upon bribing of the bride and groom), gandharva (intercourse of maiden and her lover out of sexual desire), rakshasa (forceful abduction of bride), pisacha (where bride is intoxicated, sleeping, mentally disordered), in the order of piety of the marriage.” (III: 21 to 34)

Notice how what we call in modern times ‘a love marriage’, is held “most pious”.  Makes me think about all the stories about disgruntled families in India that encourage or discourage marriages between lovers. There are these gruesome tales of couples being driven to suicide and even being murdered.
Further, the mention of gandharva suggests that pre-marital sex was obviously very much part of Indian culture. Notice a pattern of ignorance in our society now ? We still consider pre-marital sex a Western fad, that ‘good’ boys and girls do not indulge in. What BS!

Admittedly, I am no scholar on these texts, yet, I am a skeptic of convention and these things make me question.

If one becomes a little petty, one could decipher that an arrange marriage is about 25% less pious than a love marriage, and only 12.5% more pious than pre-marital sex. Comparing it to the other end of the spectrum, pre-marital sex is about 25% better than intoxicating your bride.

Ok ok, the last part is a far-shot. But you get the point.

Today I was feeling a bit under the weather, and so decided to unwind with two Hindi movies I downloaded. My taste in Hindi movies in not the typical Bollywood-nonsense, and thankfully , of late Bollywood has started making good films again.

The first one I watched…was “Being Cyrus”…and it was very non-conventional, just the way I like it….and refreshingly, very very Dark, darker than the blackest soot that pours out of Mumbai’s taxis. Revolving around a character , obviously named Cyrus, it chronicles the inner rivalry and ulterior motives in a Parsi family…and Cyrus is to be the saviour, or so they think. As usual, Nasirudeen Shah has a minimalistic role but fantastically played, with other gemmed performances from Boman Irani, Dimple Kapadia and Simone Singh, in that order. Saif Ali Khan is the central character but his performance is plain, in a good way.

The Director/Scriptwriter in the narrative choses to begin the film with the words first written by Leo Tolstoy to begin his novel Anna Karenina.

“Every Happy Family is the same. But unhappy families are all different.”

And that sums the movie up. Head to the IMDB for more.

The second film I watched was “Black Friday”. While the film is about the Bombay Riots 92-93 , it is perhaps a relevant film for everyone in the world. In our times, where the prosecution of Muslims and the association of criminal activities to an entire religion is the trend, Black Friday underlines the complex issues that lead to the polarization of multi-religious societies, and reveals the corruption, emotion and action that leads to catastrophe.

Hidden in the main flow of state sponsored terrorism and the mafia are subtle things to learn for an uninformed audience – the film brings out a justification of the methods of police torture, for the greater good, and why innocents must pay a price but cannot be helped for the protection of many. It destroys the stereotype of the Indian policeman who is corrupt, and only interested in making money , and brings forward an image of a policeman who , even if socially inept and crass, has to do the dirty work for society. At the same time, it brings out the ridiculous irrelevancy of “Human rights” in a time of social crisis. While Human rights protagonists might like to think that this is something “wrong” with the world, the film might show them that reality cares not for Human Rights when blood fills the streets.

What I liked about the film is the documentary-like style, with real news clippings and stories which emphasizes the factual basis of the film. Its not clear to me how much creative license was taken here.

Very surprisingly the films credits use Indian Oceans “Bande” song as background, which was my favorite song from the Indian Metal / Rock Band scene. It has a Metallica touch to it, and positively philosophical lyrics.

Head over the IMDB for more on the movie.

One of the few movies that made an impression on me, was the ” Amistad “.

The Amistad is a true story of a ship by the same name that arrived on American soil, carrying with it Africans to be sold as slaves. These particular Africans were kidnapped and kept at a slave fortress on the coast of Sierra Leone, before being sold into slavery. On reaching American soil, they managed to fight a legal battle for their freedom, and the courts ruled in their favour thus :

“If the contest were about any goods on board of this ship, to which American citizens asserted a title, which was denied by the Spanish claimants, there could be no doubt of the right of such American citizens to litigate their claims before any competent American tribunal, notwithstanding the treaty with Spain. A fortiori, the doctrine must apply where human life and human liberty are in issue; and constitute the very essence of the controversy. The treaty with Spain never could have intended to take away the equal rights of all foreigners, who should contest their claims before any of our Courts, to equal justice; or to deprive such foreigners of the protection given them by other treaties, or by the general law of nations.”

But surprisingly, the Defence counsel for the ’slave-owners’ claimed that there was no systematic abduction of these Africans, and the slave-fortress in Sierra Leone was a myth , and did not exist, despite the witness account of several American naval officers, who had been to the coast of Sierra Leone and seen the fortress. Therefore, Defence Counsel claimed, these people should be treated as illegal immigrants and thus owed the ’slave-owners’ their livelihood and benefited from the arrangement.

This appalling statement was provided an appropriate answer by a Naval Captain , who later sailed to Sierra Leone, attacked the slave-fortress using cannons and destroyed it.
After reducing the slave-fortress to rubble , His closing statement to one of his sailors is one of the best examples of the metaphorical slap-in-the-face :

“Private”, he said , “Write a letter to the Defence Counsel – “Dear Sir, You are correct. As of this date, the slave-fortress at Sierra Leone, indeed , does not exist.” (wicked smile).

Beautifully done… I say.

The glittering lights of the city spread to the horizon, a million fireflies that defied the darkness surrounding them. ‘Men are like fireflies…’ he thought, ‘lighting up in the darkness,wallowing in their brilliance, only to be easy prey to the monsters that lurked in the shadows.’

He came up here often. The vast view seen from this hill-top gave him the illusion of seeing ‘the big picture’. And the cool mountain breeze reminded him that no matter how much concrete may surround him, the elements always surrounded him. He would often imagine a strong gust of wind, the crackle of spring water and the moist earth that lay just outside the city-scapes, n his hill. The towering concrete giants would be replaced by dwarfed grass-blades in the meadows beyond – invisible to him from his sidewalk or his home or his office, but he knew it was there.

Like all men, he had loved. He often thought of bringing her to his solace. But he was afraid. Afraid that she might never understand the charm of the place. Never understand what drew him there. And most of all, never unravel herself to him in this place of introspection. So he kept her away. He did not want to face the possibility of her being non-chalanced, plain or even bored after coming here. He wanted to tell her how he saw the world, but he was afraid she might not want to listen.

The thought train was interrupted with a deep rumble….He listened…and damp thud….a car door. The silhouette emerged, and grass swayed to accommodate the feminine gait.

The figure had a pleasant demeanour and her perfume filled the mountain breeze. It was her.

“Too late”, he thought, “its time to face my fears.”

A pleasant smile she had, and a feminine softness about her.

“I saw your car pull away, as I came to visit you. You seemed to head out of the city , and I wondered. You never told me you were leaving for any place….so I followed.” .

She said that with a tinge of guilt …”I hope you don’t mind.”

He comforted her. “No , its all right. It’s cold.” He gave her his coat and pulled her closer as they sat on the grass, looking back at the city before them.

Inside, anxiety gripped him and they sat silence for an eternity.

And then, a silent whisper from her : “You know, these light remind me of fireflies.”

He smiled. The anxiety was gone. And he told himself…”…fireflies, yes…and my distrust is the monstrosity.”

She didn’t know it. But she saved him, from the monstrosity within.