When is it enough?

The Disciple (Marathi, 2021)
Netflix

Life is easy with eyes closed, accepting whatever we 'see'. However, for someone who questions, examines and introspects his every move or feeling, life can be a very tedious affair. The indecisiveness and guilt are just too much to bear. The answers available to us are just too ambivalent and can be interpreted however we want to. The more one thinks about it, the more confused he becomes in choosing the desired path.

Probably that is why we all look for shortcuts. We look upon those who have been there and done that with reverence. We hope we can use their wisdom to manoeuvre through the options available to us. It is easier this way, leaving life's big decisions to what the elders preach. If only there were a 'to do' list that answers all our queries. Even then, the answers will be not so forthcoming.

See how 'man made' law need regular amendments all the time? So how is it that the 'divine decrees' stands the test of time without considering the ambiguity of societal changes and 'modernity'? 

From the viewpoint of career, most of us have to answer at one point in our lives whether to what actually gives us satisfaction in our professional duties. Is financial gain the be-all and end-all of all professions? Is being a purist and sticking to doing the right thing adhering to the profession's rules the end goal? Is financial gain the final yardstick to determine success? 

Our tutors showed us the wisdom in performing our tasks following rules and regulations set out by the doyens of our respective fields. Working in the dark, they discovered groundbreaking finds and help to enlist the dos and don'ts. We learnt and promise to uphold the 'truth' of the respective fields. We gave these truths divine statuses.

After being thrown to the deep end of the marketplace, we soon realised that the societal demands are a world of difference from what we thought. We would be caught in a conundrum whether to stay faithful to the teachings or take shortcuts to meet the customer demands? Should we be purists or pragmatists? With the passage of time and the need to perform filial piety, the pressures for monetary fulfilment supersedes that of personal vocational gratifications. Individual satisfaction takes a back seat. We crumble and fall prey to doing what is perceived as the intelligent thing.

This Marathi film reminds me of two other movies I have seen before - Satyajit Ray's Jalsaghar  (Music Room, 1958) and Inside Llewyn Jones (2013). Like in 'Jalsaghar', viewers can truly appreciate the nuances, intricacies, and various voice modulation ranges that makes classical Indian singing so unique. As in all fields of knowledge known to Indians, music is given an esteemed place as a gift from God. Singing and music are provided respectable positions in society. People submit a lifelong commitment to trying to learn music. They believe one lifetime is not enough.

Like in 'Inside Llewyn Jones', the protagonist spends a big chunk of his life thinking he is gifted musically. Only after many disappointments does he realise that he may never be good enough. Is it because his masters have set their standard too high, unattainable by his students? Or is it that the Master himself is unsure what it is to excel and what is perfection?

This movie almost made it as India's entry to the Oscars but lost out to Jallikattu. It tells the story of a young man who is in pursuit of being somebody in the field of classical Indian singing. He wants to stay true to the teachings of his Gurus, who treated the art form not as a field of knowledge but as something akin to divinity.  They looked upon music and singing as the part of Goddess Saraswati herself to master it! Thus are the intricacies and the things it is capable and we, human beings, have not even scratched its surface. One life is definitely not enough to master it. His gurus advised him to safeguard its purity. There should not be any shortcuts or selling out for commercial interests.

All these may sound romantic, but romanticism does not fill up an empty stomach. Neither does it meet the realistic challenges of modern life. Modern societies are not interested in immersing themselves intoxicated with ragas, talas and the melodic and voice control of Indian classical singing. They yearn for musical intoxication but the headbanging and lyrics with sexual innuendos, not in praise of Nature and Divinity. As one cannot sing on an empty stomach and money is essential for survival, preservation of life seems more urgent than conservation on age-old traditional music.

Slow-moving, but after all the fanfare, it makes you think. What do we actually want? How far would we go to maintain the purity of the field of our expertise? Is it alright to cut enough to meet the demand of the marketplace? Is upholding tradition at all costs worth the sacrifice, and what expense?

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