The Country of Love: The Poet’s Imagination of India

23.06.2024

According to the data in 2021, only about 3% of Indian people have a ‘love marriage’ rather than an arranged marriage.

When there is a love match and the couples have sex, the elders accuse the man in the relationship of rape to break up the relationship because it goes against their ideas of what a match is supposed to be: In 2014, 460 out of 600 rape cases involved or allegedly involved consenting couples.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-india-59530706

The elephant in the room here is caste – despite the condemnation of caste and its outlawing, caste still rules the Indian consciousness. You can only get married in your caste. They talk about social mobility and moving out of a lower caste state, but not in love.

Before the Western reader makes their typically judgemental and racist remarks about Indian culture, they should try being an Indian man and see how the women in this country treat you because of your ethnicity and your perceived differences, no matter how long you know them for, how long you talk to them for and whatever you do or say to them. Because they have judged you as soon as they find out that you are Indian as not good enough for them. The proof besides my personal experience?:

In 2018, only 7% of relationships in England and Wales were interracial.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/newsbeat-44780698#:~:text=Interracial%20couples%20may%20seem%20common,relationships%20in%20England%20and%20Wales.

Incredibly, though, despite or because of this situation in India (let’s not talk about the bullshit, doublespeak Western ideology of equality and fairness in love), the Hindi film industry’s films all have a romantic relationship outside of love. In the film universe, the arranged marriage is what is unusual. So all these people in arranged marriages in India are watching romantic love stories. Just like in the West, the only time you can actually see a romantic love story is on the screen. Because in real life, love is ugly here in the United Kingdom. Not just ugly, but fucking boring. It is not just me saying that, it is a whole social phenomenon with men that are in the dating pool:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/feb/25/young-men-relationships-study-week-in-patriarchy

And even more incredibly, some of the songs in these Hindi films actually celebrate India as the country of love. Here are some lyrics:

Ishq bina hum kuch nahiWe are nothing without love
Ishq se ooncha kuch nahi kuch nahi kuchThere’s nothing higher than love
Ishq se badhkar kuch nahi kuch nahi kuchThere’s nothing bigger than love
Ishq se acha kuch nahi kuch nahi kuchThere’s nothing better than love
Ishq bina hum kuch nahiWe are nothing without love
Chahe joh aaye leke dil mein ishq mohabbatIt doesn’t matter who enters my heart with love
Sabko gale lagana apne culture ki hai aadatIt’s a habit in our culture to embrace everyone
Swag se karenge sabka swagatWe shall welcome everyone with swag
Swag se karenge sabka swagatWe shall welcome everyone with swag

https://www.filmyquotes.com/songs/2936

(lyrics quoted here with translation for academic purposes of fair use under UK laws to enable commentary and analysis).

So, just like in the racist love of the West, here we have the evidence of a completely deluded mind. In a country of absolute racism and casteism, where love is what you are told to do rather than what you do yourself and within constraints, we have the ideas of inclusion, welcome and the celebration of love.

Which is not particularly astonishing. In racist Britain, we hear the lip service and double speak about inclusion and diversity all the time. When people are only going to date clones of themselves for the most part from their own ethnic groups and cultures.

The human mind lives in a state of delusion. Because fairness in love is unacceptable to most people. Those are the statistics and that is reality. And if, like me, you are genuinely fair in love and diverse, see what treatment you get. Because you can’t escape the racists and the racist mindset. Not just in India, over here as well.

But should we be too harsh on the poet’s Country of Love in these Hindi film songs? After all, they are a dream. A dream of what could be. In a real country of love, it wouldn’t matter what ethnicity you are. It wouldn’t matter if you came from a different cultural background. It wouldn’t matter what religion you were. In a real country of love, where love was celebrated, where there was diversity and inclusion in love and where there was fairness and justice in love, you would perhaps have a song like this song in a Hindi film. Maybe the song is a template for a better reality. Rather than this disgusting world of love that we actually live in.

The Ideology of Love as Work

05.06.2024

This picture shows my dad working around the home. His love for us.

Why do I always tell people that love is work? And why does no one ever agree with me or understand what I am saying? The answer is simple. I am Indian. I am Punjabi. I live and work in a white world. Where all the rules of love, the expectations, the meanings, the behaviour, everything is different. Where love is not work. Love, whatever it is, is something else. Not work.

But in India, in the Indian consciousness, in the film ‘Rab ne Bana Di Jodi’ (2008) – ‘God has Made the Pairing’, we have this ideology of love as work.

The heroine is heartbroken. On the eve of her wedding, her fiancèe dies. The father of the bride asks one of his students, the Punjabi hero (who loves the professor’s daughter secretly) to marry her and fulfil his dying wish as he is dying of a heart attack. The heroine and the hero get married. But then the heroine tells the hero she has no love left in her heart.

The saddened heroine, assailed on all sides by death and loss, separation, has two interests. Bollywood heroes and dancing. So the hero dresses up like a Bollywood hero in a secret disguise and starts dancing with her in a competition. He is inexperienced with women but he makes her laugh, he charms her. He spends all his time trying to make her happy again.

Note: He changes his personality and image. He learns how to dance. He works to make her happy. He learns how to talk to women when he has never had any women in his life. He transforms his personality from a shy introvert into an extrovert. Learning upon learning. Work upon work.

The original man that the hero is does not make the woman happy. She is miserable in the marriage. She learns only to become happy with the pretend hero. When the hero fights in a sumo match to win holidays to please her and is injured, all he gets is a scolding and the harsh words that the heroine cannot love him.

The pretend man tries to get the woman to run away with him – to cheat on himself. However, this is when – by divine intervention, through the hand of God – the woman finally learns to love her husband, seeing him as a god. Then they realise the truth – how much the man has always loved the woman. Through her awareness of everything – including the work that he has done for her – the woman finally realises that she loves him. Not for what he pretends to be. But for what he is.

A happy ending, no?

So here, we have the Indian ideology of love as work. As the original husband that fights in the sumo match and gets injured, as the guy that emulates the Bollywood hero and the dancer, the hero is someone that works to get love. He makes the woman love him. Why not? The audience want a happy ending.

But we live in the West. This is not India, where love is work. Where when you show someone how much you love them they will love you back. This is not the world of reciprocity. The rules are different here. And, can I ask, even in India, in real life, is love work? When you think of someone and you do stuff for them, is that recognised as love? When you work in your job so that you get love, so you can provide for them, so you are recognised as a man, is that love?

Why do they have this ideology in the films? If it is not true?

Imagine you have a family. You have a wife and children. You are the provider. You work every day for them. They are your motivation. That is the love I have been expected to emulate. That is what my father did for me, my brothers and my mother. So why have the expectations changed? Why is it, that when you dedicate your life and the most precious object in your life, time, to someone, that is not regarded as love here? Time, attention, effort, feeling. Everything is invested in love as work. And yet, that is not recognised here. What are the rules here? A few slippery and meaningless words? Empty promises? Being treated in a cavalier and aloof way without ever being allowed or able to reveal your real feelings? Drunkenness in a bar? I prefer the Indian philosophy. Love as work. When you are attentive and you put someone before yourself. When you go through the ordeal for them. When you can dedicate your life to them. When you are honest and when you reap what you sow. When you are rewarded and recognised for your work. That is the love of the Indian man. That is the philosophy of love as work.

The Dance of Shiva’s Third Eye: A Lower Class Indian Woman Against the English Law of the Middle Classes in Damini(1993)

07.11.2016 (edited 14.05.2024)

Jai Maata Di! (Hail the Mother Goddess!)

Although it was appreciated in India and won a number of awards, the Hindi film Damini (1993) is largely and unfairly unappreciated in the West. It is one of my favourite films. What you see is an answer to the injustice of the middle classes that masquerades as legal truth. and how to base resistance against it. The resistance to the law is in the form of the image, idolatry and photography. The film is not obviously about vision and photography, although for those that see nothing and will try to stop others seeing, it is emphasised that photography is integral to the medium of film.

Damini is about English law, the remnant of British colonisation in India, and its relationship to vision, particularly the vision of a woman of the lower classes. Damini (‘the lightning’) is a lower-class girl that marries into a rich family and makes friends with the house-maid Urmi. Damini’s brother-in-law Ramesh (‘the ruler of Rama’) rapes Urmi, pinning her down below him with the help of his friends and Damini sees him doing so. Damini finally agrees to say what she saw in the court of law, but every attempt is made to exclude her lower class woman’s truth by the middle class which is fully in control of the western-derived legal apparatus, a truth in which the exploitation of the lower classes forms a continuum with the sexual violation of woman and her forced submission to masculine desire. Damini is indeed confined to the mental asylum because of her truth – the lawyer who goes up against her says that she is mad. Here, Damini is indeed driven insane.

Then, in one of the most powerful scenes in world cinema, Damini sees a procession of Durga Maa (‘the Invincible’, Devi Maa, the Mother Goddess, Mata Rani, The Mother Queen, Maa Shaktishaali, The Powerful Mother) in the streets accompanied by the common people through a window in the asylum and regains her memory. The look of the idolater upon the idol, the Mother and the multiple forms of Hinduism behind her, the last true religion of syncretism and one that is not organised around scripture (whatever its other faults), merges with an intense tandava, perhaps one of the most intense dance sequences on film. Damini (‘the lightning’) flashes and her energy is converted in Shiva’s dance, the dance of creation, preservation and dissolution. Shiva is Durga’s consort – her lover. Damini becomes the lightning because it illuminates the world in a flash – like photography and the writing of light.

The dance begins with the eyes and the eyebrows, as can be seen in the video. For it is the opening of Shiva’s third eye, the eye of power. It is a dance of vision. Damini’s bindi, the red mark on her forehead, represents the third eye. The story of Shiva’s third eye is traditionally associated with anger and the renunciation of desire, the renunciation of the desire for the middle class in the movie, it would appear, and the form of power that they represent. The dance is not a solo performance. It is directed at the enemies of the Indian lower class woman. The dance requires mastery of will and body, improvisation and the knowledge of classical forms. The dance is a fight which pre-empts the moves of its opponents, which enlarges and expands the body, which can suit the circumstances and adjust and adapt, which can bedazzle and confuse its opponents. The dance is a carefully constructed martial arts performance, like kata in karate. It is both exhibition and internal consciousness.

Shiva’s third eye is a vision bestowed from integration with the Mother Goddess. For Shiva, like Damini, is the one that loves the goddess – Shiva is Damini’s consort. The love of the Mother Queen and Damini’s bhakti returns her to herself and her vision and gives her the energy to fight for her truth, the truth and vision of woman and the lower classes. It allows her to fight against the legal system of the middle classes and flee the asylum. It gives her the force to say what she saw and destroy the forces of concealment and reorder the world.

The empowered Damini unites with a good lawyer who submitted himself to the desire of woman, his wife, in order to take up his occupation and she is triumphant. The good lawyer returns Damini to her alienated husband, he returns her to her love: he gives her back her desire. In one scene, the good lawyer calls himself a tiger: the tiger is the vehicle of the Mother Goddess, also known as Maa Sherawali, the Mother with or of the Tiger. The good lawyer’s wife, now dead, is only presented to us as photograph, the image. When one looks at the traditional images of Durga, the connection is clear. In an inversion of the picture of the rape that Damini saw, with woman pinned down by men, the Mother is above the tiger, it is her vehicle which she directs (the tiger itself is the national animal of India and Mother India). Above the law, there is the Mother and the law itself must only be the Mother. Thus, the quote by Mahatma Gandhi at the beginning of the movie which is said to have inspired it: “There is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supercedes all other courts”.

Damini’s justice is self-serving. It has an identity which it declares and serves, the identity of an Indian lower class woman. It is meant to protect a lower class woman that is her friend. Damini’s justice is based in emotion and empathy. She feels the hurt of another. Damini’s justice invokes a different form of power to the middle class men in power, a power that is feminised and derives its source from the mother and the sphere of the maternal. Damini’s justice is resistance: to serve not those in power, but those that are disenfranchised from power. In India, rapes are concealed by men so that the honour of their household is maintained. Thus, the powerful can prey on the weak. Damini’s justice exposes the act of making the less powerful submit to the powerful via gender in Indian society and calls for the public to claw back their honour. It is a film where justice operates in the honour economy and not the property economy of the West, where the white middle classes not only control the legal apparatus, but are also favoured by it as clients because they have more money.

Becoming a Woman: Revenge, Ethics, Law and The Wounded in a Hindi Film

13.10.16

Is it wrong to desire revenge? Some people suggest that it is. My own research into the Victorian period has shown that not only is the desire for revenge seen as irrational, being emotional, and unreasonable, but that it is also feminised. The desire for revenge is a transgressive desire which attacks the very foundations of Western rationality, the rationality and reasonableness of (white, middle-class) men. Perhaps the most famous example of this feminisation is Miss Haversham in Great Expectations which I read as a schoolboy, but it is also in other famous novels like Vanity Fair, where Miss Sharp favours revenge too.

It is with some surprise that I noted that revenge was also feminised in my favourite Hindi film, starring my favourite actor, Sunny Deol. The name of the film is Ghayal, which means, literally, “wounded”, although I believe the correct translation into English should be “The Wounded”, which would make a significant difference to the overall meaning of the film. Ghayal is not just a film, it is an entire philosophy, some of which I will try to make clear in this little piece. I return to the film when I begin to forget who I am and where I come from. The film is a revenge story. The villain kills the hero’s brother. He is framed for the murder and then an accusation that he killed his brother because he was having an affair with his sister-in-law leads her to suicide. The hero triumphs and has his revenge outside of the law. The film is divided into a number of sections, but the obvious structuring is to contrast everything that follows with a first happy period.

Female revenge is present even in the first happy period, which is full of comedy. One day, the heroine of the film travels to see the boxer hero at his training camp. Because he is scared that he might get sent home, he says to her that he doesn’t know her and tells her to go away. The hero is the only person in the world that the heroine loves and who loves her back. She has no family as her mother and father are dead. When the hero tells her to go away and pretends that he doesn’t recognise her, he is refuting his love for her and treating her as a non-person with no identity. He is excluding her and returning hate and apathy for her love. He hurts her badly, he wounds her absolute trust in him and herself, in other and self.

The heroine does go away. But then, the hero has to apologise. He finds her in a restaurant and tries to speak the words of love to her. But now, the heroine’s mind is concentrated on revenge. She tries to provoke the other customers in the restaurant by turning all of the hero’s words against him to insult them, saying that he has called people bald or fat, etc. She wants the hero to be beaten by the mob, she opportunistically manipulates them to give the hurt and the satisfaction that she will feel. The customers are equated with India – this is an explicit comparison that is made. But Mahabharat (Great India, or ancient India) is also invoked when the hero actually touches the heroine.

As soon as the woman is touched, she opportunistically uses the status of victim to further manipulate the mob. She pretends that she is a damsel in distress, she mimics completely passivity and helplessness. She calls out that the hero, who she pretends is a stranger, mirroring his refutation of her identity, has touched her and rhetorically questions the crowd: Is there no man among you (to protect me, to have the courage to protect me, to protect not only me but all women, the women that are your sisters and mothers)? Here is when the Mahabharat comes to the rescue in the form of Bhima. Bhima is perhaps most famous in the epic saga because of his relationship to women, law and revenge. Draupadi, the wife of five men, was dishonoured by Dushasana who vowed to keep her hair unkempt and unmanaged until they were washed with the blood of her oppressor. Bhima was one of her husbands and he vows not only to bring his wife the blood, but also to drink it. Their vows and laws are based on their revenge. The beginning of legality is based on revenge, the revenge of a woman.

The heroine only forgives the hero when he falls from an elephant in trying to win her over. It is only when the hero is hurt that the heroine is able to forgive him. He has now shared her hurt. He has felt what it has been like to have been in pain. He has hurt himself for her. This is love.

The main revenge story is also marked by its relationship to the law and feminisation. First of all, the hero is clearly “the wounded”. I was discussing wounds and their relationship to femininity with one of my supervisors – someone had questioned my tying together of the wound with femininity in a poem by Robert Browning at a postgraduate reading session – and she told me that the wound has indeed been historically been associated with women, which a number of commentators have noted. He has been hurt badly. The hurt is that his loved ones have been taken from him. But the hurt is not just the loss of his brother, who is murdered, but also his sister-in-law who is like his mother that commits suicide. She is murdered just as much as his brother because she is dishonoured and shamed by what the world has been led to believe about her and her brother-in-law. However, the main hurt has been from the law. The law rejects the hero’ hunt for his missing brother and then he is subjected to brutal torture when he is framed for his brother’s murder. It is in the courtroom that the accusation of the incestuous relationship with his sister-in-law is made that leads to her suicide and extinction, her non-identity. The entire legal system fails him. What he should have been able to trust does not help him, it takes away his love, what he loved most. It takes away that which gives him his identity – his family, the brother and sister-in-law that are like his father and his mother.

Thus, the hero’s quest for revenge is a quest for revenge against the law. It is explicitly stated that his campaign of revenge is a campaign against the law since it is a direct challenge to law and the rule of the law. Of course, this law is only there to protect the villain, the rich man who plays Western music on his piano. Yet every time the hero pulls the gun against the villain, he is impotent. The crisis of impotence reaches its head towards the end of the film. Yet, in the most beautiful scene of the film, when the hero’s campaign of revenge is about to fail and he is pounded by a group of policemen and the law which forms a tight circle around him, the heroine sees him as the victim. She remembers what it is like to be the victim. She knows its reality. She knows what it is to be the wounded. And it is woman and the wounded that help the wounded. They see the place of woman in the wounded. She gives him the loaded gun and he is no longer impotent. He shoots and he does not miss. He hands himself over to the police with a smile on his face and a child that he rescued from the villain, the child that was separated from his mother by the villain and snatched from her, separated from the one he loves the most, applauds. The crowd of the people applaud too. The hero walks beside the heroine who gave him back his potency, both towards the law.

On ethics and law. There is a structuring of five. Draupadi had five husbands. There are five in the family: the hero, his brother, his sister-in-law, the heroine and the evil uncle who is a lawyer, the one that makes the suggestion of the incestuous affair. The brother, before he dies, says that five fingers of the hand are not all the same. The hero has four associates in his desire for revenge (five in total), each of which fall, leaving only him. This is because in revenge, the only one concerned and interested and self-serving can carry out their revenge for themselves. The hero kills the evil uncle, the lawyer: the identity of lawyer, liar, must be eliminated. Law itself is a prostitute: it is said to sleep on the bed of those such as the villain, the rich man. It is not the sacred prostitute, it is the one that only serves the rich. Law is there to be hated. It destroys love and unity. It is the insertion of law and the lawyer into the family which leads to the dishonour of woman and her extinction. It is law that stops a woman becoming a woman and which threatens her integrity and existence.

There is a lot to learn from “The Wounded”. Hurt is only appeased by hurt. Because when the oppressor is hurt, it is then and only then that they learn what it means to be hurt. It is only then that they learn the disintegration of self and integrity. It is only then that they learn what it is to be a victim, to be woman. And all of the negative stereotypes associated with an angry and revengeful women are the very things that we need to be: touchy, sensitive. When we want to hurt the law, we have to attack the places that hurt most. We must take everything from the law and give nothing. We must be merciless and relentless. For it is only the execution of revenge that teaches empathy. It is there to eliminate the ego. The oppressor must be humiliated in a contest, in a duel. In the film, the hero kills the villain, but the real defeat of the villain is in knowing that the law which protected his vicious self cannot save him because he has hurt others. Either no-one must be hurt or all must hurt. This is the lesson of empathy. Hurt only desires further hurt. Hurt can only be satisfied by further hurt, by being placed in the exact same place and position that you place another through hurt. Revenge is the teaching of empathy and the production of emphatic persons, learning empathy with woman. This is what is law.