A history of the future
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/344802/a-history-future.html
Life’s most traumatic cemetery is surely the memory of pain,
for it is buried but not dead. Neither amnesia nor vengeance is a solution,
although the timid find solace in the first and the violent seek options in the
second.
Individuals, communities, nations have to find the spirit
that can liberate them from the bonds of past anguish, to discover a future in
a new perspective that is something far more than a distorted reflection of
fear.
It is not often that a Bollywood film can lay claim to that
cleansing experience called catharsis, but Bhaag Milkha Bhaag is a film made by
Indians inspired by a vision of the future from the countless narratives of
that terrible past called partition. They recognise the great dangers in single-tunnel
truth, for it can so easily turn a script into a game of vindictive flames. But
Milkha is not just another Friday release; its bleak landscape blossoms with
many shades of subtlety woven into events and characterisation.
The box office is always tempted by simplicity. Good and
evil must be caricatures. The formula is uncomplicated. Laugh in the beginning,
cry in the middle, find relief at the end, go home happy. But this is a film
about reality, not exaggerations. Nothing is overdrawn, nothing is underwritten.
Milkha’s childhood is destroyed by the slaughter of most of
his family in the Punjab that went to Pakistan. Out of this holocaust
emerge real people, not saints and sinners. Milkha runs, reaches a refugee camp
in Delhi and
finds his way through loneliness, despair and a lost first love, before
discovering that unfathomable elixir of indomitable spirit that turns a child
who might have become hardened criminal into an international athletic
superstar.
His best childhood friend, a Hindu boy who trudged to a
Maulvi’s school with him, finds survival through another process, and who can
say that this was less agony? The Hindu lives through 1947 by converting. The
point is made simply, without fuss, without accusation or praise, as a choice
human beings make when torn between life and death. One of the great tragedies
is that nearly seven decades later, the few Hindus left in Pakistan are
still sometimes forced into such an awful debate with their conscience.
There is no difference between Indians and Pakistanis; we
are the same people, with the same weaknesses and strengths. If the two
partitioned neighbours have evolved differently, it is because they are
influenced by their root ideology. The ideologues who inflict violence within Pakistan have
not understood a very simple truth: if your mission is to search for someone to
hate, you will continue to find them. Yesterday they were Sikhs and Hindus,
today they might be Shias or Barelvis or whoever interferes with some fantasy
of an artificial purity.
Myriad evil
Filmmaker Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s sensitivity and genius
is at its nuanced best when, almost surreptitiously, he depicts violence in all
its myriad evil, including the many forms which we compartmentalise into
“lesser” categories. The tight, ringing slap of a husband across the face of a
wife who did not respond to a demand for instant sex in a refugee camp is also
madness mixed with hatred.
Milkha’s girlfriend is dragged, screaming, into an arranged
marriage while he is away, trying to prove that he can succeed in something
more than petty crime. When he discovers his loss, his old friend from the
mohalla puts it plainly: you know how we Indians treat women. Sonam Kapur, in
the role of girlfriend, appears briefly, perhaps spanning fifteen minutes of a
film that exceeds 180. Any commercial movie which stars a missing heroine is
blessed with calm self-assurance. I will not mention the denouement, except to
indicate that it will surprise those who enter the theatre with pre-conceived
notions.
Those who believe are all, in a sense, convicts of their
conviction. The ideology of a humane spirit, soaring towards the unbelievable,
is also infectious, and it lifts every aspect of this film. Farhan Akhtar has
put in a performance that is beyond mere awards. The lyrics of Prasoon Joshi,
the music of Ehsan-Loy are transformative. Both might work better in the film
than outside, in cafes or radio, but that is an asset, not a liability.
Mahatma Gandhi is mentioned once, as a reason for a holiday.
Perhaps this is deliberate, because Gandhi has now become synonymous with
preachy, and no one has time for sermons. But Gandhi left us with a lesson that
saved India
in 1947 and the years beyond; and is now resonating through the world. Violence
destroys both perpetrator and victim. Violence sucks compassion out of our
heart, and turns it into a barren desert enveloped by the mirage of rage. Even
violence in the cause of justice, which is necessary for order and
civilisation, can devastate beyond its purpose, as the final metaphor of
Mahabharata tells us with unambiguous pain.
Gandhi wrote the history of the future, not a history of the
past.
Small acts of kindness for a richer world
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/345698/small-acts-kindness-richer-world.html
One afternoon years ago, reporters and fans gathered at a Chicago railroad station
to await the arrival of the Nobel Prize winner.
The huge, six-foot-four-inch man stepped out to meet the
cheering crowd. He thanked them and then looking over their heads, asked if he
might be excused for a moment.
He walked through the crowd with quick steps until he
reached an elderly woman who was having trouble trying to carry two large
suitcases. He helped her with the bags as he escorted the lady to a bus nearby
and helped her aboard. Then turning to the crowd that had by then tagged along
behind him said gaily, “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
A member of the reception committee was quick to remark,
“That is the first time I ever saw a sermon walking.” This kindly man was Dr Albert Schweitzer, the
famous missionary-doctor who had spent his life helping the poorest of the poor
in Africa.
Such small act of kindness is what the world stands in need
of today. Little kindly gestures speak
in loud voices. They say that we care; they show our respect to those around
and bring out our goodwill in wanting to share our joy in whatever little ways.
The possibilities to small acts of kindness are endless.
They include such ordinary acts as exchanging smiles, leaving behind a generous
tip for someone who has done a good job, verbally appreciating a colleague’s
work, sending a thank you card for someone who has provided an efficient
service, opening the door for a person with his arms full, surprising a family
member by doing his chores, calling someone who has not been feeling well and
the likes.
Whether it is in our sympathy or in our empathy, acts of kindness
leave both the doer and the person, to whom they are done, feeling good about
life. Both are richer for it, because such acts bind all men together in a
common spirit of bonhomie.
C Neil Strait, author of numerous articles in Christian
periodicals and several books, would say, “Kindness is more than a deed; it is
an attitude, an expression, a look, a touch; it is anything that lifts another
person.”
This is exactly what Dr. Karl Menninger, the famous
psychiatrist also advocated. After giving a lecture on mental health, Menninger
took questions from the audience. “What
would you advice a person to do,” asked one man, “if that person felt a nervous
breakdown coming on?”
Most people expected him to reply, “Consult a
psychiatrist.” To their surprise he
replied, “Lock up your house, go across the railway tracks, find someone in
need and do something kind that will up-lift that anguished person!”