RIFLE RANGE BOY: Punjab's Breaking Bad?

CAT (Punjabi, 2022)

Miniseries, Netflix.

Starting off as a martial race, the Sikhs stood up against Aurangzeb and his brutal imposition of jizya. There was a dire need to replenish the national coffers after his father, the megalomaniac Shah Jahan, had depleted them, completing the magnificent Taj Mahal. Their prowess continued during the reign of Maharajah Ranjit Singh. The emperor remains the lone leader who managed to unite Punjab and conquer the region now referred to as Afghanistan. After Ranjit Singh's demise, it had been downhill all the way.

Maharajah Ranjit's heir Dalip Singh was placed under the care of the Crown after the second Anglo-Sikh War. He soon became a lost white man who signed off the Kohinoor to Queen Victoria, whom he looked up to as his mother.

From then on, the land of five rivers had only seen nothing but misery. First, it witnessed its land carved up to appease certain quarters. A heart-wrenching swapping of citizens illustrated by brutal slayings ensued. The nation had hardly recovered from that blow just 30 years later, and a major religious riot occurred between Hindus and Sikhs. Radical Sikh leaders had stockpiled weapons and explosives in the Golden Temple. When the authorities marched in to defuse increasing security concerns in the state, it was deemed as disrespecting the sanctity of the august place of worship. The only remedial solution, at that time, the terrorists felt, was to assassinate the Prime Minister who gave the marching orders.

The late 20th century spilling into the 21st saw Punjab fighting enemies from within and without. If the earlier stock of Punjabis had a roaring nationalistic (or the glory of the Sikh teachings) spirit, the newer generation had lost it. They had to deal with declining agricultural produce, traditionally their selling point. It is no longer the state that generates the most taxes for India. Alcoholism is a big problem; no matter how hard drugs are curtailed, they keep popping up. Young Punjabis all have one life ambition: to migrate and settle in Canada. Therein comes the trouble from outside. The radical Khalistani movement rooted in Canada is hell-bent on demanding separatism. The other external annoyance is, of course, Pakistan, whose raison d'etre is to derail India. Most, if not all, of Punjab's drugs are parachuted across the Pak-Punjab northern border.

How does one solve a problem like Punjab? This web series seems to suggest that it is impossible. Even if one is resolved to do it, the grit is often met with a corrupt web of politicians, police personnel, civil servants and a lethargic system that is quite content with the status quo. The lure to get some quick bucks and get the hell out of the badland is so compelling that people are willing, not batting an eyelid, to cheat their loved ones blind.

Gary, a teenager in the mid-1980s, became an orphan after his parents were killed by Sikh terrorists. He worked as an informant to the police to nab terrorists. He goes into a witness protection program, caring for his younger pre-teen siblings and working incognito as a car mechanic. He got his sister married, settled in Canada, and hoped his brother would do the same after passing his entrance exams.

His brother, however, has other plans. Hooked on the good life and recreational drugs, he gets into the wrong company. He is arrested. The devasted Gary, now Gurnam Singh is devastated. He meets the policeman who got him into the witness program by chance. That snowballs into Gary doing what he did before, as a police mole, to infiltrate a web of drugs nicely controlled by the police, local hoodlum and politicians. Gary realises that things are complicated now.

If one were to understand the psyche of the generation of Punjab, just listen to their latest trend in music videos. The videos of the 80s typically show greenery, tractors and village bungalows. Now, the theme is masculinity, booze, drugs, guns and about girls falling flat for gangster-like characters with flashy cars. Women are often portrayed as brainless sex toys waiting to be picked up.

There used to be a time when the general public felt secure in the presence of someone in a turban. A girl cat-whistled by a gang of boys will seek solace in the company of a Sadarji. The Standard Chartered Bank, a few years ago, used the image of a Sikh guard as an example of their impenetrable security. I wonder if people will still feel the same after watching this series.