As the Marathi movie 'Sairat' winds up, as
you see two little feet walking away from the screen leaving wet footprints, a
sense of tragedy hangs around you: A sense of tragedy and loss, and of
unbearable pain. If you examine the pain closely, you observe that it was a
pain you had ingested into your mental life way back- A pain so dense that you
cannot be a person until you learn to lock it away in the deep recesses of your
being. It is a sum total of many pains… A pain on beautiful things
getting spoilt; a pain of lost moments you cannot get back; a pain for love you
carve for; a pain for respect and dignity of human life getting denied,
and a pain of failing to understand why when everyone wants to be happy they
end up making each others' lives hell.
If I am to say it's a beautiful movie, it would be too lame a description of what 'Sairat' really is. It doesn't feature glamorous people doing 'cool' things, as most of the mainstream Indian movies today do. No partying, going on foreign tours with a gang of friends. But what it features is the very living experience of millions of ordinary Indians like me -A living experience presented with honesty by a director and his talented team of budding artists. And that's what, I believe, had made it capable of not just evoking strong emotions in the viewers, but also asking them to question the ways of the society they live in.
A Big Spoilers alert and my apologies. It is not possible to say what I want to say without giving away major plot elements. But, when I think of it, there is no part of the plot a sensible Indian cannot guess beforehand. We have unwritten rules ingrained in our personalities which we learned from verbal and non verbal communications from our family, peers and experience. When we see any of them broken, we are almost sure of negative repercussions. Some feel sorry for those rule-breakers; some feel responsible to teach them a lesson; some feel safe when they see them properly punished. Caste and class rules begin in the first page of that rule book, and they run several volumes. In fact, we know they are connected to everything we know of; Education, respect, money, beauty, smartness, honesty, business, politics, arts, literature. Everything is linked to class and caste, sometimes subtly, sometimes obviously; Invisible in some places, blatant in some others. Our morals, values, commitments, sense of fraternity and belongingness, and of course, our identities, are fostered in such a way that they are almost inseparable from caste without a major internal struggle, while consciously we might not even be aware of such a bond. When the protagonists Archi and Parshya forget the presence of that sacrosanct bond, overwhelmed by the flow of their youthful dreams, dark, wild clouds gather round in 'Sairat's skies. Should one reprimand their moment of weakness, or should one celebrate their daring? Should we lament the tragedy ensued, or should we feel for the parents whose lives were wrecked as an unintended consequence?
' First they should learn to control their women,' Archi's father, a powerfull man of the village, the local leader of a political party, publicly taunts his rivals.
'She is from higher caste. She belongs to a rich family.' Parshya's friend warns him, incredulous that Parshya would dare even to imagine being attracted to such a girl.
'All our farm. It runs acres and acres,' Archi says proudly as she walks her friends through her family's farm. Does she know of the cost her mother pays for being the wife of a man who owns acres and acres? Does she know that little would this acres mean if she decides to follow her heart...?
'Concentrate on your studies, get a degree and get a job. Don't hang around being a fisherman like me,' Parshya's father warns him when he overhears a conversation between friends. You hear the urgency and earnestness in his manner. And, a silent prayer to gods grant his son a better life.. A silent prayer of every parent from lower class...
'She is my uncle's daughter. I'll break your bones if you look at her again,' Archie's cousin studying in the same college confronts Parshya. Like the youths you find in every corner of our country, who feels duty-bound to protect 'their women' from attentions from outsider males, but may not bat an eye if those women are being beaten to death by their families. It is not that their hearts aren't in right place. They might be really good men. But sad truth is that their sense of right and wrong is so strongly colored, by the lenses of patriarchy and conformity gifted by their families, that they may not recognize their inhuman acts for what they are, when they were perpetrated for the sake of guarding the purity of their race/class/caste/creed.
And the cold-blooded murderers, who'd bring gifts from your mother, drink coffee at your table and leave your house after making an orphan of your kid... People who are your uncles, brothers and cousins; who took you in their arms when you were a child... What changed when you married someone from a different class?
That is Sairat's story. Well, there are other stories in and around here in contemporary India. Story of a father committing suicide and a whole village erupting in flames isn't any less violent compared to father getting his daughter killed. Stories of police encounters, rapes, murders, accidental deaths are all not any less saddening than that of a soldier getting killed in a cross border firing. Stories of a poor man's son remaining poor are so common that people cannot recognize them as sad stories. And violence, murders and ruined lives are everyday stories in the so called 'caste-less' societies too. 'Sairat' represents a class of stories that ought to be told, now and again, again and again, until somewhere they drive home a few apparent truths, somehow they smoothen the rigidity of traditions. Those lessons, I pray, someday will falter many a butcher's hands as they bring them down to strike a fatal blow on a fellow being.
Yes, India has the best culture, best for of unity in diversity, best family values and a grand history. When we stop surrendering our sanity for the sake of some illusionary sanctity, we might yet have best humanity, too.
Well, that's my take on the movie. If you want to know more about 'Sairat', here's the IMDB link.
If I am to say it's a beautiful movie, it would be too lame a description of what 'Sairat' really is. It doesn't feature glamorous people doing 'cool' things, as most of the mainstream Indian movies today do. No partying, going on foreign tours with a gang of friends. But what it features is the very living experience of millions of ordinary Indians like me -A living experience presented with honesty by a director and his talented team of budding artists. And that's what, I believe, had made it capable of not just evoking strong emotions in the viewers, but also asking them to question the ways of the society they live in.
A Big Spoilers alert and my apologies. It is not possible to say what I want to say without giving away major plot elements. But, when I think of it, there is no part of the plot a sensible Indian cannot guess beforehand. We have unwritten rules ingrained in our personalities which we learned from verbal and non verbal communications from our family, peers and experience. When we see any of them broken, we are almost sure of negative repercussions. Some feel sorry for those rule-breakers; some feel responsible to teach them a lesson; some feel safe when they see them properly punished. Caste and class rules begin in the first page of that rule book, and they run several volumes. In fact, we know they are connected to everything we know of; Education, respect, money, beauty, smartness, honesty, business, politics, arts, literature. Everything is linked to class and caste, sometimes subtly, sometimes obviously; Invisible in some places, blatant in some others. Our morals, values, commitments, sense of fraternity and belongingness, and of course, our identities, are fostered in such a way that they are almost inseparable from caste without a major internal struggle, while consciously we might not even be aware of such a bond. When the protagonists Archi and Parshya forget the presence of that sacrosanct bond, overwhelmed by the flow of their youthful dreams, dark, wild clouds gather round in 'Sairat's skies. Should one reprimand their moment of weakness, or should one celebrate their daring? Should we lament the tragedy ensued, or should we feel for the parents whose lives were wrecked as an unintended consequence?
' First they should learn to control their women,' Archi's father, a powerfull man of the village, the local leader of a political party, publicly taunts his rivals.
'She is from higher caste. She belongs to a rich family.' Parshya's friend warns him, incredulous that Parshya would dare even to imagine being attracted to such a girl.
'All our farm. It runs acres and acres,' Archi says proudly as she walks her friends through her family's farm. Does she know of the cost her mother pays for being the wife of a man who owns acres and acres? Does she know that little would this acres mean if she decides to follow her heart...?
'Concentrate on your studies, get a degree and get a job. Don't hang around being a fisherman like me,' Parshya's father warns him when he overhears a conversation between friends. You hear the urgency and earnestness in his manner. And, a silent prayer to gods grant his son a better life.. A silent prayer of every parent from lower class...
'She is my uncle's daughter. I'll break your bones if you look at her again,' Archie's cousin studying in the same college confronts Parshya. Like the youths you find in every corner of our country, who feels duty-bound to protect 'their women' from attentions from outsider males, but may not bat an eye if those women are being beaten to death by their families. It is not that their hearts aren't in right place. They might be really good men. But sad truth is that their sense of right and wrong is so strongly colored, by the lenses of patriarchy and conformity gifted by their families, that they may not recognize their inhuman acts for what they are, when they were perpetrated for the sake of guarding the purity of their race/class/caste/creed.
And the cold-blooded murderers, who'd bring gifts from your mother, drink coffee at your table and leave your house after making an orphan of your kid... People who are your uncles, brothers and cousins; who took you in their arms when you were a child... What changed when you married someone from a different class?
That is Sairat's story. Well, there are other stories in and around here in contemporary India. Story of a father committing suicide and a whole village erupting in flames isn't any less violent compared to father getting his daughter killed. Stories of police encounters, rapes, murders, accidental deaths are all not any less saddening than that of a soldier getting killed in a cross border firing. Stories of a poor man's son remaining poor are so common that people cannot recognize them as sad stories. And violence, murders and ruined lives are everyday stories in the so called 'caste-less' societies too. 'Sairat' represents a class of stories that ought to be told, now and again, again and again, until somewhere they drive home a few apparent truths, somehow they smoothen the rigidity of traditions. Those lessons, I pray, someday will falter many a butcher's hands as they bring them down to strike a fatal blow on a fellow being.
Yes, India has the best culture, best for of unity in diversity, best family values and a grand history. When we stop surrendering our sanity for the sake of some illusionary sanctity, we might yet have best humanity, too.
Well, that's my take on the movie. If you want to know more about 'Sairat', here's the IMDB link.
Really awe inspiring read...the ability with which you have put those words in order and described thise emotions in a streamlined manner is a gift that you much cherish!!
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