Gender

On Funeral Rites and Getting Fucked Over

Although I’m extremely comfortable with ambiguity and open-endedness in film, I’m still wrestling with the women characters in Thithi, the recent Kannada film set in Nodekopplu village.

First let me say that the film is, as indicated by the number of national and international accolades, a “must watch!” (thanks Aamir). It belongs to a growing number of Indian films that are difficult to genre-ize and, as a result, often reduced to ‘art house’, which is actually a quite inaccurate description. Unlike the Western conceptualization of art house, Thithi transcends cultural and class in a way no Miramax film ever achieved. Its experimentalism comes from the slight tweaking of the everyday, a slowing down of the already slow village ecosystem to the point that humor organically emerges. Perhaps this is art house for those in the West with the attention span of a fly, but I think for the Indian audience, for whom most will have some connection, no matter how remote, to this setting, the humor is accessible and relatable. Similar to films like Sairat and Court, Thithi is composed of a cast of non-actors and unites a diverse cinema-going audience by offering the poignant wit that arises from place specific language and environment.

Thithi and Court share commonalities beyond the obviousness of a white haired elder for a central character. Mostly, the fluid intertwining of humor and tragedy which is, in fact, so well integrated that it is impossible to distinguish. But while Court is pointing to the absurdity of an arcane legal system, Thithi points to nothing. Or does it point to everything? I left the theater content with a four way intersection between humor, tragedy, nothing, and everything. But how does that intersection hold up in the context of the women of the film?

While we see that the woman of the village are sharp tongued, hardened, and no nonsense, they are given very little substance. Now, I’m not asking for any contrived portrayal of strong village women nor am I demanding some 30% reservation of plot given to women. Thithi is not about women, nor the relations between men and women in the village. But something happened for me after Abhi has sex with Cauvery, which is shortly after he has stolen sheep from her uncle.

Why has Abhi stolen sheep from the sheepherder? Because he drunkenly gambled away all the money his father, Thammana, gave him so that he could buy sheep for the Thithi celebration. None of Abhi’s actions are particularly good, quite the opposite in fact. But like every character in the film, we are endeared to him simply because of his human-ness. He’s not a bad kid, just a bored kid.

But by the time sex has occurred, even though it is assumed consensual,  it is clear to me that multiple violations are occurring. Or, to put it in colloquial terms, some people in this film are getting fucked over. Kamalakka, the money lender, Cauvery, and of course Thammana.

Because we know Thammana’s story so well we understand the various ways in which he is getting fucked over by the reappearance of Gadappa. But because we don’t know much about Cauvery’s story, nor Kamalakka’s, I think most film goers will not think much of it. Which is perhaps why some reviews are able to say the following:

“Abhi offers little commentary on the matter of the inherited land; instead, he’s consumed by more youthful activities, which Reddy treats with an appropriately affectionate eye by not forcing the youngest heir into the film’s greater conflicts.”

or

a gentle, playful comedy set in a small village in Karnataka…featuring a wonderful ensemble of non-professional actors that transports you to an Asterixian village in Karnataka.

I found the film deeply comical but I do not think the words affectionate nor gentle have a place. It is deeply comical but also darkly comical. I keep returning to this question of whether Raam Reddy, the film director (who is clearly a genius), is in some way making a statement on gender in the village, in which case it is achieved through a non-statement or subtleties that can make us think quite deeply. For example Gadappa’s story about his wife (which may also only be a dream), which perhaps affected his relationship with his father (Century Gowda) and his relationship with life. But while he has, essentially, renounced society, his wife renounced life. And what of his game of Tiger and sheep? At what point does this carefree spirit become the Tiger of the whole plot and village for that matter? How does Gadappa, though unconsciously, orchestrate the thieving to take place by buying the sheep herding men their alcohol, to which the women ask, “But who will watch over the sheep?” I can’t help but wonder if the film is, in one small way, projecting an attitude of boys will be boys and men will be men.

By the time everyone is sitting down to the fine meal of mutton it is evident that some men have come out on top, others not, but every female character have been fucked over in some form or another. Now, I’m not saying that I want to see some form of justice delivered, but if this is to be a new cinematic take on the village, it is still an old take on gender in the village.

I also wonder if a film like Thihi could be created in which all central characters were women. What I’m trying to say is that in Thihi the characters are substantial enough, there need not be a presence of women to enhance or give a fuller picture of the male characters or their place within society. Could the same be achieved if it was a cast of women characters? Could an entire 120 minute film carry the same level of humor, irony, and rich character development without reference to husbands, children, or cooking? Although Thithi in many ways revolves around the story of a family, family relations and duties, it is at the same time not at all about the family. We see each generation of men as autonomous characters so that the film is almost an anti-statement about familial relations. Could the same humor or essence be achieved if the cast were women and not men? I have no doubt it could, and that such a director exists somewhere, but the question is whether such a film would receive the same kind of attention and reception as Thithi.

What does Modi mean by ‘women led growth’?

Women are the latest target in Modi’s attempt to regain his political mojo. While Modi is not the first politician in or outside India to call attention to the societal benefits of women in leadership roles, his justification is seasoned with that distinctly Hindu right, BJP ideology:

“A country is always empowered by its women. It is she who is different roles—as a mother, a sister and a wife nurtures citizens and these empowered citizens then play a role in building up an empowered society and country.”

Let me pause while I vomit and come back to express how offensive this is, or should be.

First, it operates under the assumption that there are three, and only three, roles that constitute or define women and all are in relation to the family. By default, the modus operandi of women is to nurture, nurture the individual who, under this care of mother, sister and/or wife will become an empowered citizen. Under the guise of empowerment and gender, Modi is putting forth two very patriarchal ideologies.

  1. The transfer of nurture[ing] from woman to individual is not a closed circle for this conduit of nurturing is never circulated back to the woman. In fact, in many instances the only thing that is empowered is capitalism. Nurturing is passed from mother, sister, wife to individual and that individual, in turn, becomes a part of the productive labor force, which, in turn, produces the conditions needed to maintain a capitalist nation-state. This energy flow is of course one classic basis for the work of feminist economists who try to quantify the economic value of a society structured around unpaid nurturing.
  2. In Modi’s scenario, woman is not considered a citizen. Of course  Modi would dispute such a claim at face value but a nuanced reading of the statement suggests no direct relationship between nurturing a citizen and being a citizen. Nurturing an adorable puppy so that it can develop into a well domesticated dog does not, by default, make me a dog as well.

If political actions speak as loud as political rhetoric than we can assume that Modi’s parlance of “building an empowered country” translates into building a powerful nation-state, viz a viz strong military (just look at the new budget), robust private sector, and nurturing FDI. In other words, empowering a patriarchal, paternal model of capitalist democracy.

At present, most of Modi’s tangible execution of empowerment has not benefited any members of society beyond the business elites who, as desirable citizens, are fit to build an empowered nation-state, which essentially means the ability to shape global economics and geopolitics. For this to occur, the traditional capitalist-patriarchy structure needs to survive and again that structure begins with a household structure in which mothers, sisters and wives nurture. Increasingly, women are permitted to be part of that productive labor force, so long as it does not take away from their role as nurturer, nor their role as the upholding the modesty of the household and the nation.

While modesty has a very firm place in the constructed imaginary of ‘traditional’ Hinduism mythology where women like Sita and Draupidi are revered for maintaining their modesty in the direst of circumstances, because in today’s context a woman’s place might be both reproductive and productive (read: nurturing and income generating) it is paramount that modesty is upheld. Because if modesty is not upheld, it suggests that nurturing might be threatened.

Just look at so many of the legal discourses pertaining to women. Most have a basis in modesty. Laws around stalking, teasing, harassment originate from “outraging the modesty of woman” (see Section 354, 354D, 509 of the Nirbhaya Act). Not ‘a woman’, not women-as-individual-citizens but rather “modesty of woman.” I’d argue this is Mother India modesty or modesty of an imagined universal mother, sister, wife. This is further exemplified in workplace documents founded on protecting women workers (not dignity or rights of women in the workplace but perhaps the dignity of the company), accusations of rape (where in some instances, women undergo virginity testing to, essentially, determine if she was ‘modest’ before the attack), and even in rape prevention campaigns where men are encouraged to think of every woman they see as being someone’s mother or sister (but not a wife!).

Anti rape protest copy

Photo credit here.

My lamentation is not new, a refrain of many feminists, even non-feminists in India, but in this current global climate of frightening nationalism, religious, racial, caste intolerance, the sacrifice of social welfare for military growth, it is important to carefully read the nuances within the message of women led development (note in several instances of Modi’s speech, growth and development are used interchangeably), who is espousing it and why.

I am certainly for women led development, but not under such conditions. I believe Modi’s vision of women led development is one of carefully packaged patriarchy. His vision of an empowered country is one in which the nurturing of citizens by mothers, sisters, and wives will be reciprocated back to the that mother, sister, wife only in the form of laws and policies that protect the collective image of women as modest, women as nurturer, but do not empower her as an individual citizen. Perhaps my reading of Modi comes across as too Western a reading of what conditions should constitute women led development; I hope not. Modi is not the only political leader to have a double tongue when it comes to this subject, and thankfully India is ripe with activists, public intellectuals, and individual citizens who will challenge him on this.