Over the last
couple of weeks the Konkani film Gunaaji has
been screening in some theaters in Goa and not wanting to miss it, I decided to
watch it one evening. Two hours later, when I walked out of the theater I had
an uneasy feeling about the movie. This column would like to reflect deeply on the
feeling of unease that I experienced after viewing Gunaaji.
The film is
based on a novella of the same name written by Pundalik Naik, recipient of the
Sahitya Akademi award. Before it was published as a book in 1998, this novella
had appeared in Konkani Bhasha Mandal’s annual magazine Konknni and was also serialized in the Sunday supplement of Rashtramat, both in 1998 itself. Thus
one can conclude that this story has already enjoyed a fair share of
circulation, even before it was made into a film. Knowing that generally films
tend to depart from the plot of the book, I also decided to read Gunaaji before talking about my unease.
Gunaaji is
a story about a cowherd living in a remote village of Goa, who gets selected to
receive a national award for being the best raknno
or cowherd in the country and about the journey he undertakes from his
village to New Delhi to receive the award. The film is saturated with colour-rich
images of a bucolic landscape, like the ones that gladden the hearts of any
true-blooded Goan. The book as well as the movie has many funny and lovable
moments, and in most places the film has remained faithful to the plot of the
book.
But the places
in which the plot of the movie departs from the book are very interesting to
note. There are particularly two instances that need our attention. In the
beginning of the book/film Gunaaji recounts an incident where he had stopped a
cow from being taken for slaughter as it was not the right thing to do, and
towards the end of the book, after receiving the award he makes a speech
reiterating the same point. In both instances in the book there is nowhere a
hint that a Catholic character is involved in the progression of the plot.
However, in the film there are some obvious and not-so-obvious markers that
allow one to understand that these point towards Catholic characters. In the
first instance, the accent that is employed is enough to establish that it is a
Catholic person who has purchased the cow for slaughter. In the second instance,
after Gunaaji makes his point about stopping cow-slaughter, immediately the
camera zooms-in on a “Shri. Melvin Pereira” who is seated on the dais of the
awards ceremony in New Delhi and who seems visibly uneasy and embarrassed about
what Gunaaji has just said.
Given the fact
that Naik, the author of the book, was closely associated with the screenplay
of the film, one has to ask the question why Catholic characters or markers of
a Catholic person were incorporated in the film, whose original story had so
little to do with any Catholic subjectivity? To go back to the book, there is
only one place where the author consciously identifies a person as Catholic and
that is when Gunaaji has to go through the airport security check, where the
police officer is depicted as Catholic. But this instance is in no way related
to the larger plot.
So why have I
felt uneasy with the way the abovementioned two instances from the story by Naik
are portrayed in the film? The reason lies in the manner in which cow-slaughter
(thus beef-eating) and Catholics are juxtaposed in the film, whether wittingly
or not. It is common knowledge that beef is consumed by Catholics and Muslims
in Goa, and it is also common knowledge that of late the selling and
consumption of beef in public have been encountering opposition. Against this
background how do we understand a story that was published in 1998 and made
into a film in 2014? What one can immediately suggest is that the politics of
cow-slaughter, beef-eating, and hurt Hindu sensibilities is not a recent one
for either Goa or India. It was a process that was set in motion much before
right-wing groups started creating a fuss in Goa around beef-eating, western sanskriti, Portuguese colonialism,
Catholic dietary, dress and other cultural practices.
This column is
not suggesting that Naik is at the forefront of – or championing – anti-minority
politics and rhetoric. But his uncritical conformity (knowingly or not) to
certain given ideas and ideals within Indian national life that have become
normalized, such as (for instance) not seriously considering the minority
perspective, certainly allows us to question his Gunaaji. The film may seem innocent (and perhaps it is in many
places) but the subtle and not-so-subtle codes that are found in the movie
reminds the Catholic (and other minority groups) that their cultures and being
is not always allowed to co-exist with the dominant, majoritarian cultures.
Indeed, it has to remain subservient to it. Naik may have not created the
monster, but he has certainly fed it.
So is Gunaaji a good movie? This column would
not like to sit on judgment on this issue. Neither was this the intent of my
column. The point I would rather like to forward is that the book and the film
are not isolated incidents. There is something that operates on a deeper and
insidious level that can escape the best of us. The trend to de-legitimize
non-Hindu cultures in India has a long history of more than a hundred years. If
we are not aware of this history then we shall only further a brand of politics
that distances minority groups from mainstream discourses and politics.
(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 24 July, 2014)
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