Anna's critics, and their absurd arguments

Have you come across someone who has twitched his eyebrows at the sight of Anna Hazare's visuals, as if to suggest he has had enough of the man and his movement? You should have. Have you heard professional marketers of cynicism insist that the Gandhian activist is 'blessed' by a foreign hand? If you watch the television, you surely have. Have you spoken to someone who believes, or pretends to believe, that the movement is theatrical, perhaps farcical? Absurd expenditure of words being a passion with so many professional critics, you possibly have.

When I watch Anna's movement on the small screen and read about it in the newspapers, it makes me think about my experience of India, the country where I was born and where I have grown up. As I hear Anna's critics hurl their criticisms, the inanity of their indulgence amuses, nah, shocks me.

Why do I react the way I do? Simple. Here is a septuagenarian with no political ambitions who has stirred the collective conscience of the nation with his crusade against corruption. What does he stand to gain from his stand? How the hell can he have the support of some mysterious 'foreign hand'? Is a real people's movement possible - and Anna has proved it is - or must each such exercise have an inevitable connect with a malignant vested interest? Questions, and more questions, assault my sensibility as I see how Anna's critics are spinning nonsensical arguments in a Rubbish Anna campaign motivated by guilt and crisis in confidence.

There is very little doubt that the government has mismanaged the situation in a manner few would have imagined. There is equally less doubt that this movement will grow, although which direction it shall take, only time can tell. What's more important, however, is this. As we see the little man with a kind smile spearhead a movement against the 'c' word, we are made to think just how much we have allowed it to infect our lives. Such has been its overwhelming presence that we believe it is impossible to exist without it. One could say that we are convinced that corruption is necessary to 'simplify' our lives.

It is during an era of compromise that Anna has walked in. He is not an illusionist, but his very image is a reminder that we have allowed evils to rule us for way too long. Nobody has the potency to change a hell-like situation into an abode of divinity overnight. So, while we know that India won't become a morally wonderful place to live in anytime soon, the very fact that we are reacting to corruption is a huge step forward.

Later, after this movement ends, with some results and more promises, we can face a situation in which we go to a government office some day. We need to get something done. The officer asks for a bribe. We give him a stern look, making him think: what if this guy 'takes my case' because he has the moral strength to forgo what is rightfully his? That will be the victory of Anna Hazare. That will be a victory you never achieved, dear critics, because you never wanted to try.

Anna's critics, and their absurd arguments

Have you come across someone who has twitched his eyebrows at the sight of Anna Hazare's visuals, as if to suggest he has had enough of the man and his movement? You should have. Have you heard professional marketers of cynicism insist that the Gandhian activist is 'blessed' by a foreign hand? If you watch the television, you surely have. Have you spoken to someone who believes, or pretends to believe, that the movement is theatrical, perhaps farcical? Absurd expenditure of words being a passion with so many professional critics, you possibly have.

When I watch Anna's movement on the small screen and read about it in the newspapers, it makes me think about my experience of India, the country where I was born and where I have grown up. As I hear Anna's critics hurl their criticisms, the inanity of their indulgence amuses, nah, shocks me.

Why do I react the way I do? Simple. Here is a septuagenarian with no political ambitions who has stirred the collective conscience of the nation with his crusade against corruption. What does he stand to gain from his stand? How the hell can he have the support of some mysterious 'foreign hand'? Is a real people's movement possible - and Anna has proved it is - or must each such exercise have an inevitable connect with a malignant vested interest? Questions, and more questions, assault my sensibility as I see how Anna's critics are spinning nonsensical arguments in a Rubbish Anna campaign motivated by guilt and crisis in confidence.

There is very little doubt that the government has mismanaged the situation in a manner few would have imagined. There is equally less doubt that this movement will grow, although which direction it shall take, only time can tell. What's more important, however, is this. As we see the little man with a kind smile spearhead a movement against the 'c' word, we are made to think just how much we have allowed it to infect our lives. Such has been its overwhelming presence that we believe it is impossible to exist without it. One could say that we are convinced that corruption is necessary to 'simplify' our lives.

It is during an era of compromise that Anna has walked in. He is not an illusionist, but his very image is a reminder that we have allowed evils to rule us for way too long. Nobody has the potency to change a hell-like situation into an abode of divinity overnight. So, while we know that India won't become a morally wonderful place to live in anytime soon, the very fact that we are reacting to corruption is a huge step forward.

Later, after this movement ends, with some results and more promises, we can face a situation in which we go to a government office some day. We need to get something done. The officer asks for a bribe. We give him a stern look, making him think: what if this guy 'takes my case' because he has the moral strength to forgo what is rightfully his? That will be the victory of Anna Hazare. That will be a victory you never achieved, dear critics, because you never wanted to try.

Mayawati and Aarakshan: Realistic movies, filmy governments

I am not necessarily a fan of Prakash Jha, and I do not write this to argue a case for him, though I find his brand of cinema compelling, realistic, and a reflection of what goes on around us, with Gangaajal being a personal favourite.

I write this since I am bewildered at the manner in which the Indian State has joined the league of pressure groups in this country which operate on muscle power to tell us what we can or cannot see. The UP government has banned the release of Aarakshan; the Punjab government has followed suit till such time the state’s Screening Committee – whatever that is – previews the movie and submits its report. And Maharashtra wants specific scenes to be cut before the movie is allowed to be screened there. What model is this? Will releasing a movie after Censor clearance require it to be screened before 30 state government committees? A Bharat Darshan for the filmmaker?

I thought of writing what came to my mind when the UP government first disallowed the Aarakshan team to even step into Lucknow for a routine promotional trip, but then desisted, since it is very easy for views on such issues to be misinterpreted as prejudices emerging from one’s surname, and which side of the reservation debate one is therefore presumed to stand on.

But right now, I think I’ll risk that. Because what we are seeing right now, with the Maya regime leading the way, is the setting of a precedence that must be fought, must be checked.

For the past few years, the trend of bodies and individuals demanding to see movies before they are released has been an increasing one, and because ten people throwing stones at a movie hall is good enough reason for screenings to be shut, most producers agree to this completely illegal and unjustifiable demand. If at all we need certification about whether a movie is fit to be screened or not, that job is the Censor Board’s. But if a Balasaheb has a problem with a movie, the movie may not release, or, at the very least, he will have to be shown Sarkar at a private screening to ensure Sainiks don’t smash theatres. The Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management Committee ostensibly asked for twelve changes in Singh is Kinng, post which it gave a ‘clean chit’ for it to be released. A Jodhaa Akbar faces protests and subsequent ban if it cannot placate Rajput leaders. As to Aarakshan, even as I write this, a news report has come in that says that Jha has agreed to cuts “suggested” and has “reached a settlement with the RPI” which is “now supporting the movie”. So, the Republican Party of India, whose activists stoned Jha’s home and office recently, has become a body whose support has to be earned by ‘reaching a settlement’. What is this, political negotiation or dons enforcing compliance?

The self-appointed leaders of various sections apart, politicians and governments step in to complete the job. They have more power to twist a filmmaker’s arm, almost always on the ground that some section in that state will be ‘upset’. UP has been fairly active; an innocuous film like Welcome To Sajjanpur was banned in UP because it could supposedly ‘incite communal passions’, and could only be released with cuts that kept the government happy. The Madhuri Dixit starrer Aaja Nachle was also banned in UP on the ground that it humiliated dalits as the lyrics of a song had references to the mochi community. Gujarat has also been proactive in displaying the state’s power: while Fanaa faced trouble after Aamir made unfriendly remarks on the Narmada dam, the state predictably refused to allow the screening of Parzania as the movie was based on the 2002 riots and could ‘lead to communal disharmony’. As if the Gujarat riots were triggered by filmmakers! Rajasthan came down on Jodhaa Akbar since some Rajputs were upset, Himachal stopped Traffic Signal since the use of the word ‘kinnar’ was deemed offensive to people of Kinnaur district. Bihar banned Black Friday. A film you may not have heard of – Tango Charlie, an Ajay Devgn starrer released in 2005 – was banned in Assam since it supposedly insulted the Bodo community. The Centre steps in sometimes too; if you remember, the Defence Ministry wanted to see Rang De Basanti before it was released to ensure that MiGs weren’t trashed.

One could dig out more instances of pressure groups, community ‘leaders’, outright bullies and politicians temporarily in power deciding what we can, or cannot see. But the point is not a compilation. The point is that we are going on a reverse track – instead of a more open and accommodating society, we are quietly legitimizing this nonsense of vetting by anyone who has a fragile ego. Today, anything you write, anything you make, can hurt SOMEONE’s ego or sentiments. And that someone has to be mollified. Or else..!

Jha made an interesting point in the course of a conversation a couple of days back. “What you see is a movie” he said, “but for me, it’s a book. From Daamul in 1985, to Gangaajal, Mrityudand, and now Aarakshan, all I am doing is observing social change, writing it, and then putting that on celluloid. I am a chronicler of history in my own small way”. The problem is that our leaders – the elected, the unelected, or to quote Mr Manish Tewary, the unelectable – want us to consume our current history the way they want to. Divergence is repeatedly and conveniently attacked on the grounds of ‘hurting sentiments’.

This whole point about our otherwise callous, brutal and indifferent governments being so touchy about law and order and people’s sentiments is a little far out. Case in point is UP. The fiery leader rose to power with walls plastered with the BSP’s original election slogan, ‘Tilak, Tarazu aur Talwar, Inko Maaro Joote Chaar’. For her to today take the moral high ground that dialogues in a movie will ‘incite violence and disharmony’, is far more filmy than any of Jha’s films have ever been.

UP’s Entertainment Tax Commissioner told our Lucknow reporter, “After viewing the film, we have enough reasons to believe that it could incite public sentiment, and therefore the department has taken the decision to suspend its release. Besides the objectionable dialogues, we felt that the film is raking up the debate over reservation, which, frankly, has been dead for a few years.”

Since when did ‘raking up a social debate which has been dead’ become a legal offence? It’s a good thing the gentlemen adjudicating this were not there when Attenborough’s Gandhi released, else they would probably have taken affront to the film raking up the debate over Chauri Chaura, non-violence, and India’s partition.

Exaggerated budgets don't guarantee success

Every subject has its own requirement of money. A budget doesn't decide the fate of a film at the Box office. Exaggerated budgets don't guarantee success. I know these days there is a trend to say -`This is a 100 cr budget film.' and so on. People try to make the budget seem like a virtue. It isn't. For a film to succeed you have to a strong story at the core. Everything else is secondary.

When I said Chandni Bar created Jalwa at the box office despite the fact that it was made in 1.5 cr; that is sometimes the costume budget of a big film; I was not being condescending. My films like Page 3, Corporate, Traffic Signal and even Jail were made on smaller budgets. However they are feted and felicitated films and fetched terrific return on investment and won accolades.

But when I did Dil Toh Baccha Hai Ji it needed more money because big stars like Ajay Devgn and Emraan Hashmi were in it. However I'm glad that even DTBHJ proved a safe bet for the investors. So there is no virtue in money as far as film budgets go. But when money is readily available it helps enhance a film. Heroine will need a certain jump in finances because it has a lot of glamour involved. The budget will be more than that of Fashion that also required some grandeur because of the nature of the subject.

Lagaan and Jodhaa Akbar kind of movies need mammoth budgets. The canvas is so big. At the back of my mind I know some day I too will dabble in cinema like that. However a subject has to naturally lend itself

to opulence. You choose a subject, then find a budget. You don't find moneybags and then go hunting for a subject to spend those crores on. If you are genuine filmmaker, you will not cheat. Having said that, there is a difference between producers and proposal filmmakers. For me cinema is my passion, my love. It's not about splurging money just for the sake of it

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The beauty lie

So was it all it took to change, even if temporarily, the Indian outlook towards Pakistan? An attractive young female foreign minister comes visiting and everyone falls over all a-gush? It is easy to understand the attention she generated and the interest she evoked, but the reaction didn't stop there. Most editorial comments suggested that she represented a shift in the Pakistani attitude and that she was a 'breath of fresh air' that helped change the climate surrounding the dialogue. In other words, her contribution was seen to be substantive, even if what created the most impact was her appearance. Now, it is entirely possible that Hina Rabbani Khar is a gifted leader and the Indian reaction was based on a realistic assessment of the progress made in talks between the two countries, but given the presumptive nature of judgement on what has been a stubbornly intractable subject, it seems much more likely that the media in India was seduced by her looks, and extrapolated her influence. Interestingly, glamour has translated into presumed effectiveness, instead of being consumed on its own.


The extent of coverage her looks and fashion sensibility garnered tell us a thing or two about the current media and societal discourse. At one level, it just reinforces what we know about news today- that it is increasingly a consumer product catering to the reader as a paying consumer, without an overriding sense of responsibility towards the objective coverage of important news. The difference between big news and small, the important and the trivial is dissolving; it is not just a question of making news more entertaining, but the growing belief that the trivial and superficial is in fact significant. Celebrities are no longer covered with a knowing we-are-doing-this-for-the-ratings attitude, but with the belief that what they have to say will significantly impact our world.

The other interesting part of the reaction to Khar is the attention given to the brands that she surrounded herself with. No description of Khar was deemed complete without mention her Birkin bag and Jimmy Choo shoes. The brands were seen to be an intrinsic part of who she was, an accessible elaboration of her persona that we needed to acknowledge. The consumerist thrall surrounding this description seems to point towards the idea that brands radiate an aura that multiplies the effect that any person has on others. By wearing these brands, it is as if she communicated a willingness to play in an arena far removed from the world of politics and diplomacy. By most accounts, all that the fact that someone bought a handbag worth several lakhs of rupees says about the person is that they are rich or daft or both; there is no special skill or personality trait required to go to a shop and buy a bag so why should it make any difference to how we see her? In some ways, by articulating our reaction in the language of brands and consumption, we are acknowledging the extent to which a culture of consumption has taken root in India.

But by far the most important aspect of the media frenzy surrounding Khar is the fact it reveals a lie which we routinely tell ourselves. That beauty does not matter, that outward appearances can be deceptive, that the surface is less important than what lies within, that depth is valued more than gloss. We know from our everyday lives that this is simply not true; we believe that it should be true but know in our hearts that it isn't. In every walk of life, from the most trivial to the most important, from beauty pageants to Presidential election, youth and appearance make a difference. Our yearning for youthful leaders, for instance is as much about regarding youth as harbingers of hope as it is about seeing more telegenic faces on our screens. The current disgust with the sleaze in politics has as much to do with how our politicians look as it is with the actual level of corruption that we see around us. The desire for 'clean' politics describes not just a character trait, but also points to what kind of physical appearance we would ideally like our leaders to sport.

And yet, guilt about pursuing physical beauty has historically been ingrained in us. We think nothing about lavishing our minds with all kinds of attention and investment; we do everything possible to cultivate our mind and realize its potential by ceaselessly enhancing its capability. But when it comes to our physical appearance, we think of any attempts to enhance it as being irredeemably shallow. Advertising has understood this lie, among others that we tell ourselves. The difference between politics and advertising is the former lies in the name of the truth while the latter tells us deep truths in the guise of a lie. Hina Rabbani Khar's triumphant tour to India was an exercise in advertising masquerading as politics. That we are so susceptible to it tells us about our readiness to embrace the culture of consumption. It also tells us that we have begun to stop lying about who we are and what really drives us. Of course, whether that is good news or not is open to debate.