Mom (Hindi; 2017) Legend has it that a swan gives a melodious song before its demise. Even though this fact has been disproved scientifically, somehow the romantic imagery of a female swan, a pen, rendering her last vocalisation before her final breath sounds poetic enough.
Sridevi, in her swansong, gives a sterling performance here in the role of a scorned mother. She yearns for the approval of her late teenage stepdaughter to accept her as 'Mom' whilst struggling to find justice to punish her daughter's rapists. Even though the storyline is riddled with holes and is relatively predictable, it is compensated by the excellent acting shown by Sridevi. There are many non-verbal cues that are pivotal in any good filmmaking; here it is in abundance. The director manages to keep the audience glued to the edge of their seats with suspense.
DK, the interesting private investigator who provides some light comic relief.
Another character, DK (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), who assumes the role of a private eye, is an interesting one. Appearing weird in his 'soda glass' oversized spectacles, prominent frontal balding and a thick occipital lock of scalp hair, he gave the persona of a shady character. It turns out that he himself carries a heavy burden and genuinely wanted to help. Is it not funny? Over the years, I have viewed many of Sridevi's movies. In most of them, save some of the Tamil ones, I thought of her as a glamour actor who cashed in on her youth, external attraction and dancing prowess to bowl audience over. Only after her demise, in this film, do I see her in an entirely different light. Her depiction of a grieving mother is so surreal. I have seen enough in my lifetime to appreciate one.
Encountering Kali (In the margins, at the centre, in the west) Edited by Rachel F McDermott, & Jeffrey J. Kirpal To the uninitiated, like the Europeans who arrived on the Indian shores to encounter its natives paying homage to a gory angry looking dark imaged Goddess with weapons of destruction hanging from her multiple arms, wearing a necklace of human scalps, skirt of human limbs and protruding tongue, it must be the image of Devil itself. For the non-believers, it must have appeared like devil worship and a warped sense of divinity of the tribal people. To the natives, however, it is their expression of the embodiment of how the world is to them.
The world is a cruel place. Man's survival is paved with the daily struggle against the elements of Nature and is a constant combat against various atrocities. It is not easy, but life has to go on. Civilised people in India had apparently realised these long ago, even before the spread of Brahmanic and Vedic teachings. The forces of Nature are believed to be feminine in origin. The same mother with the maternal instincts to cuddle is the same one that shows wrath when she is not pleased. The same mother, despite her anger, would not bear to see a hungry child cry. Hence, her bosomy posture with an angry looking stance. The rage within Devi is also to combat negative forces in the world.
The Devi, Sakthi, the generic name for this female divinity, assumes many roles. In the form of a loving wife and kind mother, she is Parvathi, the consort of Lord Shiva. When the situation warrants, she would assume the role of Durga, the fearsome tiger-riding Goddess. Certain quarters insist that it is from the female energies indeed that the Trimurti, the union of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva (the creator, protector and destroyer respectively) arise. In fact, She is Brahman, the ultimate force that spins the Universe.
Kali is said to be the concept that resides in the female psyche. It is the dominant force which climaxes when a situation warrants for her to be to protect her loved ones. When a wounded animal is cornered for the last kill, it will garner all its last remaining strength to fight back, most voraciously and in an unstoppable manner. That is Kali. It is said in a Purana that this force was invoked when a demon (asura) obtained a boon from Brahma which promised indestructibility by any living man. Kali, with the help of Shiva, was so intoxicated with the victory over this demon and the gore of his blood that She went on a rampage. The carnage went on. She was on a killing spree that no one could stop. Shiva was called in to stop his 'wife'. Shiva laid amongst the corpse. Only when Kali realised that She was stepping on Shiva, she relented whilst biting her tongue. That is the persona of an embarrassed lady, extruding her tongue and gently biting it!
While some would look at Kali as the current state of the world, hostile and unforgiving, there is still some humanity in the form of comfort and security from this towering figure. Others would associate Her with the left-handed Tantric practices. These are habits considered deviant from the mainstream, the use of sexual energies of the unsanctioned kind, intoxicants and abnormal behaviours. In the realistic world, these negative forces still make up the equilibrium of the world that we live in.
Dakshineswar stance
The belief in the feminine forces of Nature predates Brahmanic and Vedantic teachings. It was a way then to appease the forces with blood sacrifice. Some quarters assert that it is a perverted practice. When the seemingly humane practices of avoiding animal sacrifices came forth, Kali worship became marginalised. It was taken to areas considered to be at the fringe of civilisation, Bengal, South India and the mountainous areas of India. When sea transportation became a trendy thing, Kali worship was re-introduced to the world, at least to the Western world through Calcutta and sea-ports of the South.
To the marginalised societies, Kali gives them hope and redemption. To the Tamils who were persecuted during the Sri Lanka's systemic genocide, She shone a light on them despite all the adversities. Like Her, behind the epitome of destruction, there was a glimmer of love and maternal cuddle to the hungry and the tortured ones. Oracles who invoked the spirit of Kali gave them closure to their missing or lost loved ones. Kali was not expected to change or be blamed for the situation they were caught in but rather remained a beacon of hope to the downtrodden.
These tuft of faith was also given to the indentured labourers who crossed oceans for survival. Kali worship is still widespread in South East Asia, the Caribbean Islands and the spread of islands over the Indian Ocean.
As the world became 'civilised' and inhumane blood offerings became a taboo in the eyes of non-tribal people, there was an attempt to classify Kali worship as 'low-caste' or subversive. The practitioners of younger religions like Jain, Buddhism and Brahmanic brand of faith, viewed it as the devotion of the low-caste, natives and the dark-skinned South Indian coolies, especially so in places they were brought in as labourers.
It is interesting to note how the word 'thug' made it into the English Language. It was just about the time when Indian raised arms against their colonial masters just after the 1857 Sepoy Revolution. The wanted terrorists (freedom fighters) ran into the Vindhya mountains to escape persecution and found solace in Devi Thuggee (a manifestation of Kali) temples. Soon these troublemakers were labelled as thugs. Of course, for the hunted they just yearned for an abode of hope in their patron Goddess to focus on their next move.
From Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
Psychoanalysts do not want to be left out in the interpretation of what Kali means to the world. The female gender has always been said to passive and irrational, at least in the eyes of the West. The community expected the male counterpart to take charge of the situation to maintain order. Feminity has a wild, aggressive side which is kept under a calm demeanour that they seem to exhibit. When the situation demands or the time is ripe, the explosive magma of physical energies, sexual prowess and rage just spew out. Another critic suggested that perhaps the West is a male-dominated society with their phallic projections penetrating the weaker natives. To see a powerful feminine force with pent-up energies was unacceptable. Hence, the denigration of Goddess Kali in the mainstream media and by the celluloid industry. Take for example the depiction of Kali in 'Help!' (1966) and 'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom' (1984). For believers of Kali as their guardian, the whole persona of this Goddess is just Mimesis, imitation of real life in art form - a dialectical, double-edged, complex play of mimesis and imagery! Kali is Mother India against foreign oppressors (Ferringhi). I suppose, for the colonists, it is reverse mimesis. Many Indian Independence fighters like Bose and Aurobindo used this dark avenging ferocious icon to rise to the occasion, whereas Gandhi must have used the subtler subdued form of Kali when he opted for passive resistance.
This towering matriarchal role of Goddess Kali in our daily lives cannot be overstated. As the unifying force Nature is feminine, it has to assume different roles in combating different situations. The message here is that an angry mother, no matter how angry she is, would still feed her crying child. We have to understand that the narrations are that of people from vast areas with their own perception of the Divine. Therefore, the knowledge may have been lost in transit or in translation. The idea is that all our attributes are divine and our ability to converse, mobilise, protect and think is a blessing to cherish. These are remembered on certain days, like Navarathri.
In the modern era, after being oppressed for millenniums, the female gender is out with a bang. Their dormant powers have suddenly been unleashed. The fairer sex is out with a vengeance. They are now slowly but surely making their presence felt in all fields including some that were considered too physically or intellectually demanding for what used to be called the 'fairer' sex.
It always intrigues me to see how some people's mind work. They think just the opposite of what is considered conventional wisdom but they still make lots of sense! You think it is politically incorrect and hence, must be wrong as most people say so, but still...
Two things that I heard over the past week highlighted the above fact. The first is the Biblical saying that is also known as the 'Golden Rule'. The dictum says, 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you'. In other words, do to others what you expect them to do to you! Herein lies the dilemma. How do you know what others want? We do not possess telepathic powers. Living in a society with many personalities, cultures, social mores and even biorhythmic cycles, different people have different needs and expectations. Take the simple example of walking into a lift. The person who walks into the lift would think that it is only courteous to have, at least a cursory eye contact, with the lone occupant of the lift as he enters it. His upbringing taught him that to nod to the temporary sojourner of space is the civil thing to do. And he does just that. The other person, on the other hand, just wants to be left alone. He had enough of small talks that lead nowhere. He might have just had a tiff, a bad day or in trouble deep. He just wants to be left alone! We just cannot use our yardstick to gauge what others really want. In this world where people are super-sensitive, we will only create more troubles than there already are!
The other lesson in alternative thinking is in the Tamil language comedy skeet acted out by Kollywood comedian, Vadivelu. Readers who understand the nuances of the language will appreciate the light-hearted view of the over-rated over-commercialised celebration of all time, Mothers' Day. In the name of appreciation of maternal sacrifice which has no boundaries, jumping into an ice-cold lake or walking into burning buildings included, the over-glorification has reached ad-nauseam proportions.
In the snippet, Vadivelu, an overgrown pampered son of an oversized mother, finds joy sleeping past noon. He responds to his nagging mother who laments about her ageing body, her hopelessness and complaints about her son's laziness. She reminds him of her innumerable sacrifices that she, as a mother, carrying him as a fetus in her gravid womb for nine long months. In Vadivelu's typical jocular whining manner, he tells his mother that his experience in-utero was no pleasure cruise. He, the fetus, was crouched awkwardly like a monkey, trapped in the dark with no idea whether it is day or night, no freedom of movements and basically in a living hell. He accused his mother, on the pretext of carrying a baby, gorged herself fat on the baby's behalf, used the excuse of pregnancy to don colourful sarees, beautify herself with bangles and jewels. So, there was no suffering on the mother's part!
Well, obviously this form of greeting card never made it to Hallmark! If not for the certificate for general screening, Vadivelu's scriptwriters would have gone a step further. He would have said that his mother's role was more of an after-effect of desires to satisfy carnal needs, societal pressures to fulfil the woman's role to procreate and his mother's adversity to be labelled barren!
My propensity for verbosity predates the time of preparation for the Part 2 of the MRCOG examinations. My mentor, VM, whom I revere for his invaluable support and guidance, is the guilty of unleashing this quality from me. He would make me talk on things totally unrelated to O&G just to train me to talk during the practical examinations, i.e. viva voce and clinical; of course talk sense not talk for the sake of talking (Malaysian colloquial slang: talk cock). He also conned me to croak to tune of ‘Let it Be’ in a Rotary Club dinner all in the name of building self confidence.
During my posting in Johor Bahru, I was fascinated listening to the BBC World Radio FM transmissions from Singapore, in particular its weekly editorials. A 15-minute rendition of some mundane topic like ‘The pros and cons of Daylight Saving Time’ was really intriguing. That got me thinking- that there are always two sides of the stories to everything in life, even something as pure as Mothers’ Day.
Mothers’ Day is joyously celebrated by mothers and people in the business community on the second Sunday in the month of May annually. Mothers naturally are overjoyed as they are glorified as the centre of attention, especially in she is a community where women are always considered a second class citizen, a burden whose opinion do not count and female infants born are considered curses. Of course it is heart warming to hear and see Rajnikanth singing praises and carrying his stroke-stricken mother to temple for cure in the movies (reel), but in real life?
Well and fine. Mothers become mothers because of nature’s unstoppable clock work of continuation of species and the society expects her to be a mother sometime in her life cycle. Of course some women are impregnated via unscrupulous man and divine intervention of Act of God through Man. I read somewhere of an immaculate conception without man as an accomplice a century ago (circa 3 AD).
True. Nature, through its progestogenic effect, has primed and prepared mothers into motherhood. While fathers sleep through the night like a log (or like a baby), mothers will be instinctively be awoken by a slight jolt or squeak of her infant even late in the night or wee slumbering hours of morning in spite of back breaking feats nurturing these brats (and possibly other brats too) in the daytime. Have we not heard of mothers running into burning houses in desperate attempts to save their offspring and instead perish in the fire themselves? Or the real live events of mothers who cannot swim drown to save their struggling toddlers? No mother would give a second thought to sacrificing their meal, appearance, entertainment, worldly pleasures or even partners to ensure their children are sufficiently prepared to sail through into adulthood. Or would they not? We generalize. (too cheesey).
Having done all these over the years and guiding them through the shark infested ocean of life, these same warm hands that rock the cradle, pulled us off the rocky roads, rock and roll to our antics may also rock families or wreck families altogether! This is especially so with domineering Indian mothers who think that their sons are still clinging on to breasts for milk and their sons have no mind of their own with just mud between the two ears and the world is out there just out pollute, manipulate and mystify their mind! Sometimes they blame it on black magic. Or are they just reminiscing their own devious mischievous earlier deeds? They expect pay back time for all the earlier sacrifices all these years. They expect royal treatment in the shadows of Cleopatra and Jhansi Rani and everyone should dance to their fancy tunes and pick their crumbs. They have no qualms about everybody else feeling miserable. They would continue doing all these without an iota of guilt but instead plead self pity through emotional blackmail. And they would seek solace, eternal peace from the Almighty after this long path of destruction by attending prayers and temple soul cleansing rituals. I think I have been watching way too many M.R. Radha and Manorama movies!
Girls are born daily, they become mothers and they die to complete the cycle of life on earth. Mothers should learn to live and let live. They should learn to let go of their sons and let him live his life. They should not stick to the dictum ‘My way or no way!’ Diplomacy is the essence of civilized living and above all common sense should prevail. Like what a not so famous guru once said, ‘Expectation only leads to disappointment but acceptance brings contentment.” He was not so famous hence nobody has heard his sayings and he was so insignificant that I cannot remember his name!
All of the above are just rumblings of a fool with artistic and writing licence. Of course, I love my mother for all her sacrifices and undying devotion. And I pray for her health and long happy life. I love you, Amma. Happy Mothers’ Day. Now, can you take the dagger off my jugular?
She broke the bread into two fragments and gave them to the children, who ate with avidity. "She hath kept none for herself," grumbled the sergeant. "Because she is not hungry," said a soldier. "Because she is a mother," said the sergeant. —Victor Hugo (1802-1885) The Hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.--William Ross Wallace (1819-1881), U.S. Poet and Songwriter *Another Day (1965)-written by Paul McCartney; **Live and let die (1974)-written by Paul & Linda McCartney, Soundtrack for James Bond movie.
