No one gives a damn really!

Meghe Dhaka Tara (The Cloud-Clapped Star, Bengali, 1960)
Screenplay & Direction: Ritwik Ghatak

I saw him brought in earlier in handcuffs and was attended to by my seniors. I noticed that everyone was looking at him with judgemental looks. So as not to embarrass him further, I just immersed myself in work. Still, from the corners of my eye, I did notice that he looked too intelligent to be wearing prison attire and be shoved around like a common criminal.

He must have seen me clerking the patients all through the afternoon, and there I was, still attending to patients at 10pm, as the first frontliner and the most junior of the staff. I must have looked gullible enough for him to quietly signal me to come beside him as I passed him by.

.

So, when he called me, I was curious. He complained he had chest pains that could be a heart attack and needed a certification letter that he had a massive myocardial infarction. I was scratching my head. At most, he could be having some musculoskeletal discomfort. His symptoms and ECG suggested that the possibility of a full-blown cardiac event was remote. I told him, "I will see what I can do", and never went in his direction again.

I later found out he was a senior lawyer charged with a criminal breach of trust suit and was scheduled to appear in courts the following day, hence the delay tactic. And, I was the sucker to be used for his personal intent.

For a long time, I was annoyed by the event. There I was, squeezing my brains trying to sort out the best treatment for the ill patients, and someone out there was one-minded to get me into trouble and sweet talk me for his nefarious intentions. 

As the years went on, I soon realised that nobody actually gives anyone a damn. At the end of the day, it is all about self-sustenance and personal gratification. If I were working through lunch that day because I thought the patients needed more urgent attention than my suppressible hunger, it is no fault of the patients. It was mine for not prioritising and lack of foresightedness. As if these things are predictable? I chose my line of duty. I thought it was my calling, so stop whining. I am just a mere spoke in the wheel of human civilisation. And the direction of the human march is forward, and I am the lubrication to ensure smooth motion. Nobody is worried that the lubricant dries up or gets denatured. It is what it is.

This 1960 Bengali movie reminded me of that event that happened 33 years ago. The film was made by a legendary filmmaker, Ritwik Ghatak, who is often to referred to as the second most influential director to another great Bengali moviemaker, Satyajit Ray. Ghatak's compositions combine neo-realism with a bit of over-dramatisation to portray the society we live in. Many of his films show female empowerment, societal divisions and the effect of the 1947 Partition on the Bengal region.

Khuki's family is a refugee family affected by the Partition. The family is probably from the Bhadralok class of society who benefitted from the British Rule acquiring Western education and 'cultured' behaviour. All that came to nought overnight as they were deprived of homes and possessions after the bloody feud for statehood. So this middle-upper echelon of East Bengal spilt over westwardly for survival.

Khuki's father is an old school teacher who could recite Keats and Shakespeare at the drop of a hat, becomes debilitated after a fall. The responsibility of caring for the family falls on Khuki. She has ambitions of higher education and marriage to the love of her life, Sanat.

Khuki's mother is forever complaining of increasing expenses for the household. The eldest son of the family, Shankar, is only interested in being a world-class singer. Till then, he was not planning to do any other work. A younger brother, Mantu, is a keen sportsman. The youngest, Gita, is a dreamy young girl interested in staying pretty and not in her studies.

Khuki sacrifices all desires for the well being of the family. She surrenders her salary, gives up her comfort and even gives up her man to be married off to her sister. What she gets in return is just more demands and contempt. All the stresses did not augur well for Khuki.

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Go with the flow?

Subarnarekha (Bengali, 1965)
Story and Direction: Ritwik Ghatak

The world, they say, constantly evolves. Every civilisation has its norms and social mores that it holds close to its heart for its society to follow. Depending on how strongly one community sticks to its belief, sometimes death may seem the most appropriate punishment meted to shirkers. 

The older generation thought they had seen it all. They know who is good and what brings destruction in the end. The young ones from all ages inherently have that rebel streak in them. They refuse to see eye-to-eye with their elders, no matter how well the latter proved themselves to be. This must be Nature's natural way to help the human race explore all avenues and choose the best way to propel forward.

It is no easy task to hang on to old traditions and values when the world is evolving, and it appears to be left behind. Even though we can see that their ways are decadent but why is everyone following them? Are we missing something?

This must be how the elders of Bharat must have felt when the East Indian Company was making inroads into India. With all the rich traditions and knowledge readily in their motherland, they cannot understand why the younger ones were fascinated with the self-defeating culture of the West.

'Subarnarekha' constitutes Ritwik Ghatak's third offering of the trilogy involving refugees during the Partition of Bengal in 1947. Ishvar Chakraborty leaves East Bengal with his sister Sita. Ishvar hangs around the refugee camp with nothing much to do. He takes in a young refugee boy, Abhiram, whose mother is taken away by zamindars. 

A chance meeting with an old friend brought him a job elsewhere. Despite being labelled as a deserter, he jumps up on the opportunity for seeking greener pasture and leaving the rest. Ishvar's boss is a traditionalist, believing in caste and creed.

Years go on. Abhiram is sent to a boarding school, graduates and become a casual writer. Sita grows up pretty, is musically inclined and falls for Abhiram. Ishvar, by now, is a general manager and is earmarked to be a partner in the foundry he is working. When Sita and Abhiram bring up the idea of marrying, the boss brings up the question of Abhiram's caste. The young ones elope, starting from scratch and scraping the barrel. Ishvar turns out broken and spirals down the ladder of decadence. The end is devastating as both Abhiram and Sita die, and their son goes under the care of his uncle, Ishvar, to stay in his abode by the banks of River Subarnarekha.

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Problem with biopics...

Thalavii (தலைவி,  Female Leader, Tamil, 2021)

That is the problem with biopics, primarily if the script covers a big chunk of their lifetimes. In the desire to capture as much of the story as possible, the filmmakers will lose much and not do justice to the legacy they intended to show in the first place. It may end up as a documentary instead. So many things keep happening that it appears like a speeding bus. We notice neither the destination of the bus nor the passengers seated it. 

No one is saying, but it is as plain as day that this biography is of former Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, J Jayalalitha. This is also another problem in Tamil Nadu, where people are equally maniacal about their movie stars as they are with their political leaders. Hence, the scriptwriters walk on eggshells to ensure the storyline does not hurt the sentiments of viewers at the expense of messy court cases and the burning of screening halls. They are careful not to delve too deeply into something too controversial. 

The movie starts on a suspenseful note. It recollects an unpleasant event that happened in the Tamil Nadu State Assembly in 1989. During a heated argument between the ruling and opposition, a melee broke out. It ended with Jaya, the opposition leader, being humiliated and disrobed of her saree. Humiliated, she vowed never to enter the august house unless and until she had been elected as the ruling leader. Quoting the scene in Mahabharata where Draupadi had the same fate, Jaya reminded her enemies of the outcome of the Kaurava clan. She challenged them that she is indeed Draupadi who will rise from the ashes.

From then on, the camera rolls back to 1965 when Jaya is just a doe-eyed young cocky reluctant actress who just entered the studio at her mother's insistence. In comes the larger than life MJR (who is none other than MGR). The story's first half is about their romantic liaison but is careful not to portray Jaya as a home-wrecker. They wanted to cover so much ground that everything becomes wishy-washy, all touch and go, lacking depth. 

After much drama, in which MGR supporters complain that their leader was a lame duck and Jaya initiated everything, we see Jaya playing politics in Delhi, with Indra Gandhi and Rajeev Gandhi. Karunanidhi (portrayed as Karuna) is painted as a greedy, power-hungry leader whose only redeeming point is his oratory skills. 

The producers skillfully ended the story by 1991 when Jaya stepped into the Tamil Nadu State Assembly again as the Chief Minister. They probably did not want to stir the multiple corruption allegations, court cases and imprisonment that came later on.

One cannot help but compare this movie to the miniseries 'Queen', which tells the life and times of Jayalalitha. Perhaps that is how biopics should be narrated in multiple episodes miniseries. If one wants to make a movie instead, it should focus on a particularly momentous event in the life of so and so and delve deep into the crannies. Only then we would do justice to the icon and impress upon the viewer his legacy.

The main actors gave impressive impressions of MGR (Arvind Swamy), Jayalalitha (Kangana Ranaut), Karunanithi (Naseer) and Veerapa (MGR's PA, acted by Samudrakani). Of course, the whole film is about Ranaut and her zest to picturise a lady leader who made Indian ladies proud and convinced the average Indian lady that they are no pushovers in a male-dominated field.

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It, which must be obeyed!

Coded Bias (Netflix Documentary, 2020)
Director: Shalini Kantayya

If passing the Turing test marks the acceptance of an automaton as a legitimate thinking body, we must also have a test to ascertain whether we have enough intelligence to be identified as a full-bodied homosapien at all. We think we are wise, but we repeatedly fall prey to sweet talks and indulgences in a single minute's pleasure, only to brood it all the morning after. We give away all our personal and intimate information willingly, only to realise much later that it has been used against us by the powerful. In the name of the country and doing good deeds, we surrender, only to be led to the slaughter.

Even when it comes to sending someone to the guillotine, there is discrimination. This, an MIT computer scientist, Joey Buolamwini, found it the hard way. When working on a facial identification device, she increasingly realised that machines repeatedly falter in identifying black and brown faces. When she wore a white mask over her face, she did not encounter such problems. With this startling discovery, together with other data scientists, mathematicians, human rights lawyers and other watchdog groups, she went on a crusade of exposing discrimination by algorithms. 

A recent fiasco involving the UK A-level examination is testimony to this. After being cooped at home with frequent disruption in their studies, the Education Department decided to use AI to churn out students' final results based on specific preset parameters. That opened the floodgates of discontent amongst public school students and their parents from the not-so-affluent side of town and the minority groups. It also showed private school students performing significantly better. The algorithm-based results proved to be biased against students from poorer backgrounds.

Replica of Maschinenmensh 
(Human Machine) @ Maria
in Metropolis (1929)

Technology evolves. We cannot do anything about it. The problem is that these new technologies - facial recognition information, algorithms, smart devices, social platforms - all collect data, sometimes clandestinely and sometimes hidden in jargon, to sell it to the most significant bidder.

The big conglomerates which can afford to pay for this enormous amount of data can streamline their business strategies to meet their self-serving ambitions. Algorithms use the information from data to stereotype females, non-whites and the marginalised to give a bad deal in resumês, job applications, eligibility for loans, and suspects in criminal activities. Men and fair-skinned individuals always fared favourably via algorithm selection.

The problem with the whole thing is that the person at the short end of the stick has no means to appeal his rejection. His plea for reconsideration is only met with chatbots or individuals who are powerless in changing anything. The algorithm's choices are worshipped as if they are God-sent decrees cast on stones. Are these unquestionable orders made by 'She-who-must-be-obeyed' the fictitious Mrs Hilda Rumpole in John Mortimer's 'Rumpole on the Bailey'? We have not learned from 'Frankenstein' and 'Maschinenmensh' (Metropolis 1929) that man-made creations invariably go berserk or against their creators.

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Blame it on the State; nobody takes any responsibility anymore!

Mare of Easttown (Miniseries, Season 1; 2021)

HBO

Even though this miniseries has been showered with praises and accolades for its outstanding storyline and exciting characterisation, I cannot stop thinking of the society it depicts. Sadly, such dysfunctional families are the norm and maybe a prescient occurrence in the near foreseeable future.

Mare @ Marianne Sheehan is a detective in the local police department in a small town in Pennsylvania. So many things are playing in her mind. Her adult son had recently hung himself. His toddler son, Mare's grandson, is under her care as his mother, Mare's daughter-in-law, is institutionalised for drug addiction. Mare's teenage daughter is angry with her for her brother's death, while Mare's ex-husband, living just behind her home, is getting engaged. Meanwhile, Mare's mother, who stays with her, breathes down her neck, critical of her every move.

At the work front, things are not looking too rosy either. A one-year unresolved case of a missing girl is making its rounds in the media again, and a new murder of a young teenage mother takes centre stage. Since it is a small town, many of the people she knew were somehow implicated or have to clear themselves in the murder inquiry.

On a personal level, her close friends become murder suspects one by one. There is so much of falling in love, out of love and affairs in the town that it looks like everybody is or has been linked romantically at one point or another. Many youngsters there are psychologically disturbed and yearn to find an outlet for their perceived 'stress of modern living'. Even Mare, a grandmother, is hot on the trail of the dating scene as two men woo her to be their beau.

I could not help but wonder what brought society to this - a culture so confused and struggling with its day-to-day handling of life. It is not just Tinseltown's picturisation of an imagined family. It very much portrays reality. Someone was commenting on this topic recently. 

Between the beginning of the 20th century all through the 1960s, the  USA was considered the most powerful nation in the world. The country was endowed with very working citizens and immigrants who were one-minded in wanting to progress in life. They followed the mantra of holding his ambition as his sole purpose in life and work towards this end. He had his set of rules to follow, and he took responsibility for all his actions. The State did not interfere with his day-to-day living. A man's failure is his own, no fault of others, and nobody is going to bail him out. At the end of the day, this man did well. Even if he did not reach the stars, he did at least the Moon.

A few things derailed this arrangement. Firstly, it is the demand for rights. Everybody felt that it was their divine right to the entitlement of some basic needs in life. The desire to do whatever they wanted was enshrined. And the State became a Nanny to ensure it is carried out. If one wants to have a child outside the confines of marriage, it is her right. The State will intervene to offer financial and social support. The enforcement arms of the State will ensure it is done.

Secondly, contraception liberated society from the hustle of worrying about the sequelae of coitus. They had been freed sexually. They were in control of reproductive power. So they thought. They did not realise that contraceptive failure was a reality and had to be dealt with. Again came the State to help out. But what about emotional support when needed? Society's morality code that fit an agrarian society had changed to accommodate of industrialised one.

In 1950, when Ingrid Bergmann was riding high as the silver screen diva, known for her fabulous screen presence in Casablanca, was denied a visa to the USA. She was Swedish, had just done 'Stromboli' and had an affair with her Italian director, Roberto Rossellini. The illicit union produced offspring. Bergmann was denied entry on this account - a person of such stature, potentially influencing the doe-eyed fans with had dressing and morality, was a bad example to the then conservative American. The American Movie Industry had strict moral codes after the Roaring twenties, which led to the Prohibition Era. 

Things have indeed changed now. Look at the public rallying behind Britney Spears fighting her Conservatorship. In that case, her father had petitioned the Courts for guardianship. Because of her bipolar disease, he feels she is incapable of controlling her finances and making appropriate decisions of her fecundity. See the rallying cry behind Spears; they say it is her life. As if the elements of Nature are dutybound to bear the brunt of our follies!

With the human rights movement and the need for individual expressionism came feminism. Rather than toeing in line with the preset social mores, they demand rights. The right to stand alone, without the significant support by their side, plays victimhood for all society's past bullying and demand reparations. Unfortunately, the Universe does not work that way. It is indeed the union of the Male and Female cosmic energies that maintain the equilibrium of the celestial bodies.

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Number 9, Number 9.

Nava Rasa (Tamil, 9 Expressions)
Miniseries, Netflix

Quite early in my life, I have come to realise that there is nothing sacrosanct in numbers. They are just there to aid calculations and the day-to-day running of our lives. What started as a way to measure the land area for the landowners to tax their subjects has come to rule every aspect of our life.

We find ways to glorify numbers as and how we deem fit. One for one God, Two for two opposing forces of Nature, Three for the three arms of divinity (either trinity of Father, Son and Holy Ghost or Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva combo as you wish), Four corners of space, Five fingers or the Five Elements of Nature being air, water, fire, land and sky (Pancha Bhootam) and so on. Each number is feted for its uniqueness.

The number 8 signifies good fortune amongst the Chinese diaspora. Probably because of its symmetry, both along the X and Y axes, it denotes balance which is quintessential of the ying-and-yang order of things.

The Number 9, on the other hand, holds a special place in the Hindu traditions - Navarathri denoting the nine forms of Devi, 9 openings into the human body, 9 universal elements earth, sky, water, air, fire, space, time, soul and mind, 9 celestial bodies in the solar system that control over emotion and life path, 9 navagraha (gemstones) which correspond to the 9 celestial bodies that pave our life and the 9 rasas (emotions) that affects body, mind and soul. 

These are compassion (karuna), laughter (haasya), wonder (adbhuta), disgust (bibhatsa), peace (shaantha), anger (raudra), fear (bhayaanaka), valour (veera) and love (shringaara). These emotions are best seen expressed during Bharatnatyam performances when they are depicted with facial, eye expressions and hands gesticulations.

Mathematically, the number 9 is exciting. We remember our multiplication tables where all multiples of 9 add up to 9 when individual digits are added. 

This anthology of short stories is based on the nine emotions mentioned above. Each of them is told in various settings, from a battlefield in Tamil Eelam to the household of a Brahmin and the exclusive set of the abode of a rocket scientist from ISRO. All of them are short, intense viewing, which leaves a kind of lingering after taste.

My favourite episode (disgust)

When the regret-stricken murderer seeks the grieving widow for forgiveness in the compassion episode, she asks the former her place to forgive. In a situation where so many parties could have avoided the final outcome when they were capable of doing so but did not, everybody is at fault! Who is she to forgive?

The episode on laughter shows the story of a boy who was a write-off in school but returns to his alma mater as a feted comedian to share his experiences playing pranks in school and getting into trouble repeatedly. 

A thought-provoking episode relates how we try to our humanitarian spirit by saving animals but have no qualms at killing each other. In another, we are reminded that some secrets of the universe are better kept under wraps. We, humans, cannot be trusted to handle such enigmas. We end up just outsmarting and destroying each other. 

We yearn to unshackle ourselves from poverty at any cost but is it better done morally? Is success at any expense justifiable? Will our evil past haunt us? Should we just accept bad things that befall us and carry on with life with no complaints? Life just feels unfair when we do all the right things but only to be returned with misfortunes. Life is not fair.

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When Ali met MGR!

Sarpatta Paramparai (சர்பட்ட பரம்பரை, Tamil, 2021)
Written, Directed by Pa Ranjith

One can learn a thing or two by watching films, i.e. if one is bothered to check the backstory. This is one rare full-length boxing film in Tamil, coming from a land that usually infuses familial masala to the storyline. In keeping with the timeline the story is set in, in the 1970s, there is ample sprinkling of Tamil Nadu politics to set the mood.

For once, we see actors who really look their part as boxers. The make-up, boxing techniques and the make-believe props that cradles us back to the mid-1970s are convincing enough.

Before watching this film, I did not know that boxing was a passionate sport in northern Madras even before the 1940s. Boxing came to India with the British. In Tamil Nadu, it was named 'kuttu chandei', and it came with its own set of rules. Boxers could not hit each others' faces, not the body. In the early 1940s, it seems there was a black British boxer (some say he is Anglo-Indian) by the name of 'Tiger' Nat Teri was a fighter to be reckoned with. He defeated most South Indian boxers. Arunachalam, the greatest boxer of Madras of yore, fought him but died during the match. Three months later, an up and coming star, Kitheri Muthu, fought him and beat the British at their own game. He hailed from the Sarpatta Parampai (Sarpatta Clan).

Kitheri Muthu and ‘Tiger’ Nat Terry 

The clan does not refer to any caste or creed. It is basically a group of people who live together in the same locale and show allegiance to the Club/Clan/Paramparai. This area in north Madras where this sport became famous comprise shipyard workers and fishermen of all religions, Hindus, Christians, Buddhists and Muslims. The other prominent clans were Idiyappa Naicker Parambarai and Ellappa Chettiyar Parambarai.

With 'Quit India' yells in full force in 1942, Kitheri's victory over Teri was hailed as a booster to the Indian psyche. Periyar and his people in the Justice Party feted him as a Dravidian hero. With that win also, the sport gained popularity. The game went on full force, with enthusiasts from other districts making trips to learn and perfect their techniques.

This movie loosely overlaps with Kitheri Muthu's story but is set during the 1975 Indian emergency. Kabilan, a fervent boxing enthusiast, has his boxing aspirations clipped by his mother. His mother fears that the fate that befell Kabilan's boxer father's life would repeat on her son. Kabilan's father used to be a feared fighter when gangsters from a rival clan knifed him down.

The story tells the competitiveness of the various parambarais and their effort to stage a boxing match amidst the background of National Emergency, witch-hunting of DMK party members (who opposed Indra Gandhi's government), internal squabbling and sabotaging of members.

The hero, Arya, as Kabilan poses with his opposer, Vembuli, in a pre-match photoshoot (Lt) and with his coach, Rangan, played by the talented Pasupathy (Rt). 

M Kitheri Muthu, one of the earliest boxers of the Sarpatta Parambarai.

Ali, the World Heavyweight Boxing Champion, and MGR, the Kollywood heavyweight, hold hands. An electrifying sight to the film-crazed Tamil movie-goers to see the star-politician and inspirational boxer together. Ali came to Chennai in 1980 for a bout with Jimmy Ellis in Chennai's Nehru Stadium. Boxing must have been that popular here that Ali decided to 'dance like a butterfly and sting like a bee' in Chennai. Before boxing became popular in Tamil Nadu, silambam was the primary self-defence sport. Gymkhanas and sports clubs were present even in ancient India.

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Just hanging on...

Ugly (Hindi; 2013)
Written and Directed by Anurag Kashyap

A cursory look at modern relationships may suggest that they are held together loosely by threadbare bonds. Everyone seems to be unhappy and cannot wait to be out. They hang on, just barely, on flimsy excuses, just buying time. Looks like everybody is experiencing existential crises and is looking all over the place for the reason of their existence. They say they are trapped. Some feel smothered, unable to express themselves. For some, it is tradition and social norms that bog them down. Others still find their passion in waiting for Prince Charming to sweep off their feet. Amidst all these uncertainties, pops out an offspring to further complicate the relationship. Each party wants to do right yet wish to do the best for themselves in their personal development. Life just gets more complicated. 

Life has a funny sense of humour. Just when everybody thinks that they are high and mighty, life tries to play the game of humility. When siblings do not see eye to eye or cannot stand the sight of each other, it would create an emergency where, like it or not, they have to come together and make it all right. I am thinking of the death of a family member or some kind of medical emergency. The events also bring out how weak our bonds are and how vulnerable human life is.

'Ugly' can be described as a crime thriller. It starts with Rahul losing his preteen daughter during his visitation outing. Rahul's estranged wife, Shalini, is a depressed lady who had big ambitions in life, like appearing on the silver screen, but nothing really materialised. Shalini is now remarried to her college sweetheart, Shoumik, who used to be bullied in school by Rahul, hoping for better times, but zilch.  

The problem is that Shoumik is the Police Chief in charge and has a bone to pick with his old foe. As time ticks and the lost child is nowhere to be found, Rahul and his best friend, Chaitanya, are accused of staging a kidnapping instead. Things get more twisted as everyone tries to outdo and outsmart each other to get the girl first. Then there is another party who is eyeing the ransom money.

It is a fast-paced thriller with real everyday people with all their good, bad and ugly qualities, warts and all. Viewers can really feel the hopelessness felt by the father as the police start looking at him as an aggressor rather than as a victim. 

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To dance to the tune of...

Dance Like a Man (1989)
Play by: Mahesh Dattani

Thanks to MEV for the introduction.

This play has been staged around the world so many times. Managed to pick up a youtube version of a play done in 2017 by the Asia Society in Hong Kong. It was the 580th show that the group had done around the world. It was made into a film in 2004.

Everyone laments that society is patriarchal in nature. Members of the female gender often complain that their desires are clipped, and the organisation is pro-male, making things easier for them to succeed in life. Ladies achieve greater heights not because of the community's push but despite their hurdles.  

Many cultures have stereotyped gender roles. Certain professions have been typecasted. Some jobs make a man less a man. Till recently, nurses were expected to be females, and male dancers were frowned upon. In this drama, we discover the difficulties a male member of an Indian family has to fulfil his lifelong ambition of becoming a successful Bharatnatyam dancer.

It is more than just that. It also explores the misperception of society that looks at Bharatnatyam dancers as glorified call-girls. It is alright to learn it as a passing phase to ensure continuity of tradition, but the buck stops there. Even for a lady, it is viewed as an inappropriate activity for married women. Society says that a married female body, a vessel for procreation, is too sacred to be ogled by everyone. In a closed knitted community where a married lady is only for the consumption of her husband, a female dancer has to find a husband who would still allow her to pursue her dance ambition after the wedding. In other words, she has to find a partner who would dance to her tune!

The title 'Dance Like a Man' got me thinking. How is it to dance like a man? Are we supposed to be less graceful? Then it struck me.

After being subjugated to all the rules and regulations meted to curb girls' activities in society, over generations, the fairer sex (may not be a 'woke' approved term) has acquired the art of survival. They have learnt how to dominate over another without the other feeling that they are overwhelmed. It is a subtle trickery they employ to get the upper hand in deciding certain things. In reality, their victims have lost their free will, without their realisation, but are remote-controlled by the master puppeteers who control the tug strings.

Indian mothers have perfected this craft. Even though they complain that Indian societies are patriarchal, in reality, they are frequently seen utilising emotional blackmails to achieve their set ambitions. Their elephantine memories of remote and obscure events can make their men 'Dance like a Man'.

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