[Reader-list] What's pain got to do with it?

[zainab]

Dear Gargi,

Thank you for this. Perhaps even thank you cannot convey to you how I
immensely grateful I feel toward you for having said this.

Zainab!
  

On Sat, 01 Sep 2007 06:43:13 +0530, Gargi Sen <sen.gargi at gmail.com> wrote:
> Hello everyone,
> I am a self-confessed lurker on this list. Till date I have only read
> postings and followed a few debates. But the recent spate of mails had a
> stunning effect  - to paraphrase Shuddha ­ and stunned even me out of
the
> zone of silence into speech. And as I spent most of the night in reading
> the
> incredible number of recent mails, I may as well stay up and write. And
> despite the circumstances, I am happy to become visible, albeit
virtually.
> 
> This mail though is addressed to 5 young men called Aditya, Rashneek ,
> Kshemendra , Pawan and Rahul. And my apologies to the rest of the list
for
> length of the mail.
> Gargi
> 
> Dear Aditya, Rashneek , Kshemendra , Pawan and Rahul,
> You know you are probably going about it ­ it being the stopping of
> Jashn-e-azadi - all wrong. You probably do know that the more you
Œtalk¹
> about a film/ book/ art/ food anything, the more you spread an interest
> about it. Any talk of Œbanning¹ send interests zooming sky high. And to
> point to Œuncensored¹ you hit bulls eye. Really. The best course
> probably
> might have been to simply ignore it. Indifference probably kills faster
> than
> any kind of engagement. But you have done what you had to and now the
> damage
> is done. And the more you try and stop it, the more you will push up the
> interest button. Its kind of inversely proportionate. Is that really what
> you want?
> 
> But I understand your pain. I understand where its coming from. I too
come
> from a so called refugee family. Both my grandfathers lost everything ­
> their land, their trees, their homestead, one even lost his entire
life¹s
> savings in 1947. Incidentally but not so coincidentally both came to
> Calcutta - you see this was before my parents met or married ­ a city
> quite
> hostile to the refugees as also to their dialect and culture. My nuclear
> family moved to Delhi roughly when I was born.  I grew up with the
> knowledge
> that Œhome¹ was Œsome place else.¹ But where exactly no one could
> tell.
> Functionally it was Calcutta. But logically, it should have been either
> Barishal or Jashore, where we couldn¹t go ­ don¹t get me wrong, visas
> were
> given, we just lacked the cash. I grew up in Delhi feeling quite
alienated
> from my classmates who had roots, deep root: they had villages they knew
> and
> visited, ancestral homes, common cultures. I had none, or they were
> somewhere else. And any attempt to find roots was a lost cause because
> where
> or what could they go into? Bangladesh? It didn¹t exist when my
> grandparents
> exited. East Pakistan? That doesn¹t exist any longer. So my childhood
> roots
> could only go up in air.
> 
> But coming back to the pain, I wonder who can I draw as enemy, who can I
> blame?  Who caused the pain? Because for certain my family, and families,
> went through pain. Extreme pain. Loss rings deep. Even today wedding
> invitations carry markers like ABC (name of the father of bride/ groom)
of
> DEF (place in Bangladesh) at present a resident of XYZ (somewhere in
> India)
> invite you to the wedding of.... Do you understand? 60 years after our
> families left we, at least those who do the Œcorrect¹ things like
> marriage,
> still claim our lineage to a land which has ceased to be ours 60 years
> ago.
> So who¹s the enemy? Who truncated that umbilical cord between land and
> culture?
> 
> The problem was that that was too complex. I couldn¹t really think that
> one
> through. So I though let me see if locating an identifiable enemy is
> beyond
> my capabilities is there at least an errant cousin, a filmmaker who rides
> on
> pain to claim fame? You know I gave it some very serious thought indeed
> and
> I think Ghatak might just fit the bill. Ritwik i.e. Especially his Komal
> Gandhar. Which is a less celebrated film than his more celebrated ones.
> But
> the storyline, the form and especially his protagonists and their
ideology
> is great for our common endeavour that I am gong to suggest in a minute.
> But
> have you seen the film? Do see it if you haven¹t. It uses a theatre
group
> to
> shamelessly propagate an ideology that has been rubbished even on this
> list.
> 
> I suggest we call for a ban on this film. Imagine what mileage we¹ll
get.
> Or
> do I mean the film will get? Whatever. We can claim that all independent
> filmmakers are fundamentally fundamentalists and unable to connect to
> pain.
> 
> Apart from that you see I also have a vested interest. Komal Gandhar
> happens
> to be my personal favourite, probably because personal taste is not
> dictated
> by popular consent. And I am often a little puzzled as to how less it is
> rated compared to Ghatak¹s other films. So see, if such a campaign can
be
> started, the film will for certain become extremely popular. Very popular
> indeed. Many people who don¹t know about the film will come to know of
> it.
> It will get screened in different cities and halls ­ we are after all
> celebrating THE 60th year ­ and this film does address the P word .
> Academics might start to write about, even high-brow lists like
> Sarai-readers list might comment on the film, and for all you know, even
> Shuddha might write about it. I recall reading a great piece by him on
the
> motif of the bahurupiyas confronting two errant children in an abandoned
> airfield in the film Subarnarekha. But I can¹t remember or at least
> haven¹t
> seen anything by him on Komal Gandhar.
> 
> Over the last 6 months I watched all of you and learnt that that is
> sure-fire strategy. I am impressed by your dedication and strategy.
> Especially your strategy. And your dedication to continually evolve it.
So
> I
> am suggesting this. Why make a hero out of Kak? He is such a
> johny-come-lately. Why not strike at the roots of all such films? Komal
> Gandhar probably is the precursor to, or the grandfather of, films like
> Jashn-e-azadi.  So hit the root. The branches are sure to fall off.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Coming back to the narrative of my family and pain allow me to tell you a
> little about my father ­ I¹ll leave the mother-motif for another
> sleepless
> night. My father, who is now dead, was once young. Probably at your age
> Aditya he joined the Socialists. You see he didn¹t have the hind-sight
of
> history so he did what his heart and conscious dictated. He was quite
> close
> to Lohiya and JP and in his twenties became the president of the Western
> Railwaymen¹s Union. But he was recalled from Bombay to Delhi by JP who
> wanted him to work on some new initiative. Anyway, he did as told, also
> married, and I make an appearance on the scene. In the late Œ60s, when I
> am
> 4 or 5 one of the tasks he carried out was to provide a safe meeting
> place,
> in his house, for Sheikh Abdullah and Mridula Sarabhai to meet and
> confabulate. Do you know what they ­ not my father but the other two ­
> were
> talking about? The RIK certainly does, no? Its recorded history after
all.
> On Kashmir after all.
> 
> Recorded history does not always record the stories foot soldiers. My
> father, by allowing a person under house arrest, to meet another who was
> soon going to be put under house arrest, called on himself the ire of the
> state. Or is it nation? Or nation-state? Whatever. But as a 4 or 5 year
> old
> I knew meaning of words like Œintelligence¹ Œshadowed¹ and the
dreaded
> word
> CID. At least I think that was the dreaded word. My father continues on
> his
> chosen path. All as a socialist. No hind-sight you see. And I watched
from
> the side-lines of the side-line. When I was 12 I learn about MISA, learn
> to
> live with a Œmissing father¹ who¹s Œunderground,¹ watch countless
> raids into
> our homes; for some strange reasons totally beyond my comprehension all
> those Œraids¹ were carried out by the IT department!
> 
> But all that was as a child. With no real understanding. Only feelings.
It
> wasn¹t till much later that I learnt that that tall, bald headed man,
> wearing a crisp, white Kurta-pajama, the one who towered over most men by
> a
> foot or so, the one who sat on our verandah talking endlessly to a woman
> in
> crisp white salwar kameez, the man also known as the Lion of Kashmir, had
> led battles against various causes one of which was the choice of
> accession
> to the republic of India. Funnily, my classmate - or was he my brother¹s
> classmate, whatever ­ his grandfather who was once the King of Kashmir
> had
> actually opted to go with Pakistan.
> A Kashmiri Pundit, a maharaja to boot, wants to secede from India while a
> Muslim, leading a tribal brigade, wants to remain. Now I think I¹ve lost
> the
> plot altogether.
> 
> But coming back to my father, a refugee who makes democratic choice, in a
> democratic country/ nation/ nation-state/ whatever, to go into politics,
> albeit oppositional politics, is continuously hounded by the country/
> nation/ nation-state/ whatever for you know what? His political beliefs.
> The
> story doesn¹t end at Emergency. Then there was the Kudal Commission. JP
> was
> already dead. He, alone, battles the government/ country/ nation/
> nation-state/ whatever for a simple reason: a Œwrong¹ allegation, a
> Œmistake.¹ For 6 years. Alone.
> 
> I write about him because I read many of your mails tonight and he came
> back. He¹s been dead almost 13 years now, but reading your mails I got
> another perspective on the man, a mere foot soldier though. He paid the
> price of choosing the wrong political set up at a time when democratic
> systems and institutions were even less mature. No hind sight you see.
But
> that apart, in my personal recollection I don¹t remember any litany of
> pain.
> He laughed instead. He was an extremely funny and fun loving man. Deeply
> irreligious he had immense faith. He couldn¹t believe in God so chose to
> believe in men.  Had he not suffered? Of course he had. Had not seen
> trauma?
> Of course he had. He was almost a youth at partition. And like every
other
> family, ours too has horrific stories. And he was a witness, not even
> spared
> by age. So, I am feeling a little puzzled tonight. Why didn¹t he
> complain?
> At least he could have called for a ban. On Komol Gandhar perhaps? Maybe
> then he might have made it to recorded history as a punctuation mark? Or
> at
> the very least he should/ could have spent his life complaining, bitterly
> about all those fame seekers, trouble makers, the salt rubbers.
> 
> I wonder why didn¹t he do that? At least he could have hidden his
obvious
> love for life, remained a victim? Was it necessary to be so blatantly in
> love with life and living? And tonight I begin to Œsee¹ that it was
this
> inexplicable love he had for life that made him choose unpopular causes.
> Too, too many to even list, forget recount. But I am grateful to all five
> of
> you for helping me to Œsee¹ the obvious, for helping me to connect to
my
> father, now dead, in a completely new light. But you know, how sometimes
> you
> can miss the very obvious simply because its staring you in the face? So
> thanks yaar.
> 
> And there is one more thing. The Kudal Commission showed to me, and
> hopefully to a few others too, that even the entire might of the mighty
> state is often unable to make false charges stick. So what¹s the point,
> yaar?
> 
> Anyway, you see I read many of your mails tonight and I thought of pain.
> Impossible to define scientifically. I mean is it at all possible to use
> some sort of measure to see whose pain is deeper and hurts more? But
> tonight
> I thought it might not be a bad idea to try and make a measuring
> instrument
> like that. Then we could compare all of us who have experienced pain ­
my
> father, I albeit from the side lines, all of you ­ whose pain is
greater?
> Or
> should we leave that ­it - to the crux of the film Hiroshima Mon Amour?
> 
> I am not sure any longer. Actually to be sure of anything is getting
> increasingly difficult. I am sure you don¹t know what I mean.
> 
> If you have read till here, thank you for your patience.
> 
> I can¹t really ask God to bless you, but I do wish you lots and lots of
> abundant energy for your cause, for your cause can only help my cause -
> that
> of showing and screening all films to everybody.
> 
> Gargi Sen
> 
> 
> 
> 
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