Media Is Always There For You

If you are in India and you will like your way up the ladder, the simplest thing to do would be to perpetrate some hideous act in the name of fortifying that mysterious entity called ‘Indian tradition’, from the over-zealous, relentless assaults from no less mysterious forces- or whatever variation on the theme you can imagine and even God can not stop you from shooting to fame, ‘cause Media will see to that.

People like Pramod Muthalik knew this too well and carefully chose as his target the members of fairer sex who flocked the pubs and discos of Mangalore to have their fill of the nights. Mr. Muthalik thought or pretended to think these pub-hitting women as defying the centuries-old notion of an ideal Indian woman, but he did not bother to form any public consensus, though. He simply sent for a few of his trusted followers and asked them to give the girls a sound hiding. No less. They obliged and he shot to overnight fame. For at a time when the TV channels are constantly scurrying through the every roadside ‘use me’s to fill their hourly quota of those indisputable ‘Breaking News’ items and the newspapers are doing the same to cram the pages of their ever-multiplying supplements (and especially if the Indian cricketers are not obliging by performing good or bad enough so as to give the media a chance to eulogise them or tear them to pieces, accordingly) they could hardly ask for more. For the next seven days and further, there were endless debates and discussions, with the head honchos of Indian politics and many others roped in to part with their opinions on this valiant effort by Muthalik and gang to safeguard the revered Indian traditions from the onslaught of vicious western influences or whatever they thought it was. As ever, opinions varied. Newer debates were formed. Discussions veered to theoretical grounds, to the plethora of latent dimensions the incident was pregnant with. So that, at the end, any possibility of reaching a consensus seems vastly remote and everything ends up in a great gob of gobbledygook you’ll be better advised to maintain your distance from. The only thing it positively achieved is, however, to turn Muthalik from a mere nobody to a household name. From now on, no one’ll dare ask ‘Pramod Muthalik who?’ since he’ll be immediately met with reproachful and incomprehensive glances for not having his current affairs knowledge in right place, and quite rightly so. Now, how Muthalik capitalizes on this new-found fame of his solely depends on the fecundity of his imaginative resources- on how frequently and methodically he can come up with and translate into reality newer ideas to scandalize our bourgeois sensibilities and in the process, give our 24-7 media something to feed on.

More recently, Varun Gandhi followed suit. During an election campaign, he spat venom against the members of Muslim communities and threatened them with dire consequences in case they bothered to abuse in any form the lofty ideals of Hindu religion and/or its dutiful followers. Again, the eyes of the media mughals lit up. Usual hullabaloo followed. The diverse facets of the incident were diligently probed into, with the pundits on their respective fields coming in to offer generously their views on the subject. Varun, on his part, promptly played a volte-face and claimed that the speech was doctored even as the staunch advocates of the Hindutva cause were busy hailing him as the new Messiah. So that, Varun, for a moment, seemed to be in a fix as to whether to stick to his earlier stand or come out all guns blazing and shoulder the responsibility of the statement. In case, he went for the latter, it shouldn’t have been difficult for him to explain his earlier stand as a ‘misinterpretation’ on the part of the media, the traditional and happy scapegoat in such matters-as long as it gives them something to air. Meanwhile, an offshoot of the debate, regarding the role of the Election Commission, threatened to overshadow the original incident. E. C. first hesitated to persecute Varun and then as pressures from certain quarters grew, did the same. Then people from still other quarters were accusing it of breaching the scope of its authority. So that, unsurprisingly enough, it all eventually tended to merge in that gooey mush of theoretical nitpickings and endless debates where nothing was comprehensible no more. But Varun, of course, out of nowhere, had stolen the limelight and in terms of publicity, far overshadowed the more illustrious members of his family. That it has done him no harm, is apparent in the way he (and his mother) has emerged victorious from their respective electorates in an otherwise disastrous election for Bharatiya Janata Party.

So the next time you’re tearing your hairs off your already tapering top wondering how to shed this curse of anonymity and make it real big, consider the ripe possibilities awaiting you in that contested democratic platform that is India. All you need is that little spark of imagination. Leave the rest to the media.

Dev D, Exploring Psychedelia

Many would vouch for Black Friday, a few for No smoking, still fewer who boast of a pirated copy of Paanch in their collection may swear by it. But let us be unequivocal here. To me Dev D is the best of the lot Anurag has churned out so far.

‘Cause Anurag has made a virtue of his limitations here. Engaging in the intricacies of human relationships a la Bergman or Antonioni was never his forte. He has always dealt in the realm of the fantastic, the macabre. It is as true of Black Friday as it is of No Smoking. And Dev D is as seductive a danse macabre as ever was one.

And Anurag is a cinematic genius. That is, he revels in the medium of cinema and the most immense and bizarre possibilities it wombs. One only need watch Dev D to see what I mean. For Dev D is about the colours, the rhythm, the lines, the patterns, and shapes. It is the whole psychedelic experience that is cinema.

Every major character here is prominently etched out and each one of them is fiercely individual. Even so, they often seem to relegate into the background and become, so to say, an excuse to indulge in purely audio-visual sensations, to indulge in cinema, if you like. In that Dev D is cinema per excellence.

The most visible attribute is the colour. More than anything, it is the Dionysian carnival of colours that characterizes DevD. Every frame is suffused with a distinct hue, each object carefully chosen for their chromatic quality. The pink of Chanda’s room, the reds around Paro, the raunchy yellow of the marigolds, the piquant red of the cockscombs………………. Indeed, much of the sensuality of the film flows from the colourful palette Anurag makes use of. The seamy sides of the city, the seedy joints, night bars, back alleys, plush brothels, Paharganj and ‘Israeli street’- the ‘skid rows’ of Delhi, flirtations with psychotropic substances- all appear alarmingly alluring in this dazzling spiral of colours.

Even then the pace varies, between the scenes and within them. The abrupt fluctuations of the shot-durations jar on our senses and create a unique rhythm that verily adds to the theme of psychedelia.

But meanwhile, DevD is a musical, too. And Amit has been a revelation. Anurag confessed that after listening to Amit’s tunes, he revamped the whole screenplay and decided to turn it into a musical. In all, there are 18 tracks. A whopping number for sure, even for a bollywood film. But so embedded in the fabric of the narrative are they, you hardly notice. ‘Emotional Atyachar’ and ‘Paayalia’ are already doing rounds of the TV and radio stations, though the others are equally good. Amit excels in his use of electronic sounds, making liberal use of irregularities like echoes and distortions, sonic drolleries often seeming to hover on the thresholds of the bizarre, though really are a few quaint, playful gestures to comply with the atmosphere of the story. A highly stylized soundtrack for an equally stylized film,

So there you are. As for the story, we know it all. Devdas by now has become an adjective to an Indian audience. The novelty lies in the way Anurag turns this ever self-pitying, wimpish hero (the popular image of an archetypal Indian lover) into a troubled hedonist (a tautology?). In fact, that is the story of DevD. A reappropriation on the part of the filmmaker of heavily clichéd sequences so that they acquire a whole new look, as set in a different context and in a different style of filmmaking. The result is a totally trippy tale enough to make your head spin. And then you can always count on Anurag’s dark humour. He never fails to insert those tiny, little jokes he so loves to play on his audience. Won’t reveal any of them, though. Pick them up for yourself, if you can.

As for the acting, aint saying nothing. ‘Cause that will take us to Abhay (for the sake of the fact, this whole idea of a gen-x devdas was his brainchild-originally a wackier one considering he was thinking of a devdas in Los Angeles rather than in Delhi, as in the film). And a talk on Abhay in Dev D (with due respects to the superb performances delivered by Kalki and Mahi) calls for a separate article.

Only that there would be no Dev D without Abhay.

So all you muggers and potheads out there who haven't sen it yet, go viddy this latest offering from Anurag and you’ll be in for a trip.