God's great plan?

Freud's Last Session (2023)

Director: Mathew Brown

The day was September 3rd, 1939. Sigmund Freud was homebound in his house in London. He had fled Vienna to London and was nursing the constant nagging pain caused by his oral cancer and an ill-fitting oral prosthesis. Neville Chamberlain had declared war on Germany after Hitler failed to withdraw from Poland. Londoners stayed glued to their radios, bemoaning that the war had started again and were waiting for their leaders' latest instructions and progress.

Anxiety was high, and people were wondering how the next few days would be. Against this background, Sigmund Freud was spending the last few months of his life. He was in constant pain, needing morphine, but lucid enough to remember the life he had and to debate his favourite topic, the existence of God. 

It is said that on that fateful, it is believed that he had a visitor by a Professor from Oxford University. The visitor's identity was not found, but the screenwriter decided to place CS Lewis as the guest. 

Lewis grew up a Christian until his mother died when he was a young child. His depressed father lost all trust in Christianity and sent Lewis and his brother to a boarding school. CS Lewis was an atheist by the time he became a young adult. A short stint in WWI drew him to Christianity again, and he became an unapologetic Christian. In Oxford, he teamed up with JRR Tolkien through fiction work, and through their group Inlking, they emphasised the value of fantasy and narrative fiction. Lewis is famous for 'Narnia' and Tolkien for 'Lord of The Rings'.

Freud was born into an Orthodox family. In his childhood, he used to follow his nanny to Church. His father was not too happy about this, and he sacked his nanny for 'converting' Sigmund to Christianity. By adulthood, Sigmund Freud was a full-fledged atheist who thought that organised religion was a fraud. 

The fictional meeting of these two great minds is the crux of this film, which was initially a stage show. It was a sort of Freud's last psychoanalysis session. Both men open their hearts, talking about their childhood, their relationships with their fathers, and intense debate about the existence of God.  

Along the way, Anna's (Freud's daughter) pathological attachment to her father is discussed. Her sexuality takes centre stage, too. She was thought to be a lesbian. The question of God condemning his people for wrongdoings and criminalisation of pleasure, whether masturbation, casual sex or same-sex union, comes up. And where is God's place when Man is cruel towards each other?

After a long afternoon of discourse, both gentlemen take leave. Anna arrives home to introduce her partner, Dorothy, to her father. Anna goes to become the founder of child psychology. Freud died by assisted suicide, with the help of his doctor, a few weeks later.

Freud's meeting with the Oxford Don on September 3rd 1939, was Freud's last session. 

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The better man?

Gunga Din (1939)

Director: George Steven

This Hollywood movie is based on a poem written by Rudyard Kipling. Kipling, as we know, is quite proud of his European heritage. He and the colonial masters of his era vehemently believed that it was the burden of the white race to civilise the natives. They, the native with their odd-looking physiques, their equally funny-looking attires (or lack of), peculiar living habits and bizarre mode of worship by European standards and Judeo-Christian point of reference, are their subject of mockery.

It is a light comedy detailing three disciplinarily-challenged army sergeants sent off to the late 19th century Northwest Frontier of Northern Punjab to check out some disturbances. They find a band of Kaali-worshipping ruthless 'terrorists' @ thugees taking over their post. The story is about how they defeat the thugs with the help of a naive local man named Gunga Din.

Before jumping onto the bandwagon of the woke to blame all our current pathetic state of affairs on the colonial masters, we should remember that Kipling and this movie were off at a time when only the victors could dictate how history should be written. The colonists, because of their native languages, are considered irrelevant, persona-non-grata.

We see the British slave-drilling their subjects on their high horses and looking down on Indians. The Indian collies seem to be bending behind backwards to kill their fellow Indians to earn extra brownie points. Their life ambition was to serve as a soldier to the Queen and the Empire.

The story is based on Kipling's poem about a 'useful' idiot named Gunga Din, a run-around water boy at the beck and call to squeeze some water from his goatskin bag. Despite all the heckling and shoving, Gunga Din's life ambition is to serve his Master and earn his validation. He hopes to be, one day, to be drafted into the British Army. Din does that in style by gunning down his own people and even taking a bullet for his Boss. He is enlisted posthumously and is conferred the rank of corporal. At the film's end, his bosses reminisce about the character running around with a water bag. They look into the horizon calling Din 'a better man' than anyone in the British Army can be.

"... though I've belted you and flayed you,

        by the livin' Gawd that made you,

you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!"

At the outset, from the time of opening credit, the filmmakers made a declaration. They specified that their depiction of Kali worship was based on historical facts. Their idea of facts is what eventually turned out as an 'eyeball delicacy' scene that was seen in 1984's 'Indiana Jones'. They took mugshots at Kali and her worshippers, making them look like buffoons. In actuality, they were merely defending their land. Gunga Din was no 'better man' but a traitor to his own people. It was the people like him who facilitated the 250,000-strong British East India Company soldiers to have control domination over 170 million Indians in 1857.

Much like the Spanish conquistadors swept the Aztec and Mayan temples clean of gold, the British in India also thought it was the birthright to usurp all the gold displayed in the Hindu temples without respect to local ownership. This was daylight robbery. I reckon this must have been no different from what the Muslim invaders did to India before them.

Gunga Din

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

You may talk o’ gin and beer   

When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,   

An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;

But when it comes to slaughter   

You will do your work on water,

An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.   

Now in Injia’s sunny clime,   

Where I used to spend my time   

A-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen,   

Of all them blackfaced crew   

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din,   

      He was ‘Din! Din! Din!

   ‘You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!

      ‘Hi! Slippy hitherao

      ‘Water, get it! Panee lao,

   ‘You squidgy-nosed old idols, Gunga Din.’

The uniform ’e wore

Was nothin’ much before,

An’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,

For a piece o’ twisty rag   

An’ a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment ’e could find.

When the sweatin’ troop-train lay

In a sidin’ through the day,

Where the ’eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,

We shouted ‘Harry By!’

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped ’im ’cause ’e couldn’t serve us all.

      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!

   ‘You ’eathen, where the mischief ’ave you been?   

      ‘You put some juldee in it

      ‘Or I’ll marrow you this minute

   ‘If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!’

’E would dot an’ carry one

Till the longest day was done;

An’ ’e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin’ nut,

’E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.   

With ’is mussick on ’is back,

’E would skip with our attack,

An’ watch us till the bugles made 'Retire,’   

An’ for all ’is dirty ’ide

’E was white, clear white, inside

When ’e went to tend the wounded under fire!   

      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!’

   With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.   

      When the cartridges ran out,

      You could hear the front-ranks shout,   

   ‘Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!’

I shan’t forgit the night

When I dropped be’ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should ’a’ been.   

I was chokin’ mad with thirst,

An’ the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.   

’E lifted up my ’ead,

An’ he plugged me where I bled,

An’ ’e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water green.

It was crawlin’ and it stunk,

But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,

I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

      It was 'Din! Din! Din!

   ‘’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ’is spleen;   

   ‘’E's chawin’ up the ground,

      ‘An’ ’e’s kickin’ all around:

   ‘For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!’

’E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.   

’E put me safe inside,

An’ just before ’e died,

'I ’ope you liked your drink,’ sez Gunga Din.   

So I’ll meet ’im later on

At the place where ’e is gone—

Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.   

’E’ll be squattin’ on the coals

Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,

An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!   

      Yes, Din! Din! Din!

   You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!   

   Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,   

      By the livin’ Gawd that made you,

   You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

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