Road, Movie: Wanders Aimlessly

Split Wide Open (SWO) is one of my all time favourites. It is one of the best thematically diverse scripts that came out of India. Looking back, that’s probably the only way you can go about a movie set in Bombay -- where Bombay is not merely where-things-happen, but a forceful shade that colours all the characters in its canvas. It's the only movie of Dev Benegal’s I had seen until I watched Road, Movie. I followed Dev’s blog for quite some time to see if he’s up to something. But mostly to know if the DVDs of English, August and SWO are available (something, I’m sure, Dev is tired of answering). I’ll probably write about the latter in greater detail after watching it again.

Here’s a typical road movie: characters start at some point – geographically and metaphorically – with a particular set of characteristics that defines each character. As they travel, they chance upon few/several experiences that range from mildly funny to outright bizarre. At the end of the journey, all the characters would have had some kind of revelation and their life paths are altered forever. Road movies usually don’t have enough time to develop characters systematically. They are unraveled alongside what they experience on the road. So it’s mostly FYI. It’s silly to ask “what motivates this character to do that?”

For the most part Road, Movie stays true to the tradition. But even for a road movie, Road, Movie doesn’t seem to have the patience to construct a meaningful launch pad; for the events that set things in motion. The director seems to have been keener on getting some chuckles than to make sense of the protagonist’s characterization – his social class, education etc. Vishnu's (Abhay Deol) father is some kind of small business owner who makes hair oil whose smell isn’t all that flattering. He incessantly lectures about the virtues of his hair oil, point by point to his son – including its ability to make men virile – so that he becomes a good salesman (it happens once at the dinner table with all the family members present).

Vishnu plans a brief escape from this apparent torment by offering to help his uncle to deliver a 1940s Chevy truck to a distant town. Set entirely in Rajasthan, the truck and the narrative make pit stops at various plot points that are haphazardly developed. Like any road movie, Road, Movie keeps introducing characters as it progresses. Some are less fleeting than the others. The wisecracking boy from the tea shop (they are all wisecracking, aren’t they?), the older and wiser truck mechanic, and the wandering gypsy woman.

Many of the film’s initial scenes are quite sketchy and structured like an ordinary joke – “two priests and a stripper walk into a bar…” We don’t ask why the priests are with a stripper, we just wait for the punch line to be delivered. The director takes the same liberty throughout the movie. It tries to maintain a satirical tone while dealing with some edgy issues such as police brutality, water shortage and water mafias (a recurring theme from SWO) and the hostile landscape in general. It’s an effort that, perhaps, partly succeeds. Dev Benegal may have strong political views, but it comes across as contrived sermons in this movie (unlike SWO). The role of the moving cinema in all of this is mostly invisible until the end. It serves for a decent montage by then.

Leaving aside its politics and thematic depth, the biggest problem I had with this film was that it was slow. I kept staring at my watch. Maybe it was the damn truck. The jokes and some ‘interesting moments’ work best when viewed with a good theatre audience. In spite some amazing visuals and complementing background score, it failed to keep me engaged – it’s no Lawrence of Arabia. The scenery is simply too tiring for the movie’s pace. And as for acting and dialogues, it’s hit-and-miss. I also got the feeling that Abhay Deol’s ability as an actor is not too broad. He chooses relatively different scripts, but his characters exude the same demeanour – indifferent, uptight and fretful. Well, at least he seems to have a likeable personality.

Addendum: I went for the movie premiere at the TIFF. I’ve often felt that the term ‘creator’s indulgence’ is used loosely. But I think Dev Benegal was a bit self-indulgent with Road, Movie. His answers and body language, post screening during Q&A, suggested that, too. Maybe it’s the stupid ‘desis’ questions that elicited it. They pissed me so much that I’m thinking of doing a short podcast on it. I was eventually able to ask him about the recurring theme I’d mentioned earlier. I’ll try to post the video soon (it’s in really bad quality). Dev has said that he’ll post it too. I feel like saying a lot more about the evening, but I’ll stop here. I’ll say more under comments, perhaps.

English, Tamil: Ideology vs. Reality (3 of 3)

Bernstein states that the way 'a society selects, classifies, distributes, transmits and evaluates the educational knowledge it considers to be public, reflects both the distribution of power and the principles of social control.’ Habermas and Bernstein, among others, provide some crucial rubrics to understand the complex political processes that underpin the medium of instruction issue in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka -- and similar Indian states -- which carry strong political and ideological overtones. Habermas regards ideology as ‘systematically distorted communication’ and the ‘suppression of generalizable interests,’ where structural features in communities (including language communities) and societies operate to the advantage of the dominant and the disadvantage of subordinate groups. Ideology here is taken to be the values of dominant groups in society that permeate the social structure, with or without the consensus of all. Power, through ideology, is omnipresent in language. And language is a principal means for the operation of power. Going by Gramsci’s notion of hegemony – domination by consent of all parties, including the dominated – language is intimately involved in the manufacture of ideological consent and in turn where power resides.

Tamil Nadu provides for a very insightful case study in this regard. The MOI issue in Tamil Nadu is bound by issues of power, domination, legitimacy and social stratification. Historically, the Tamil region has had an uncomfortable relationship with the Indian union and it was one of the only states that problematized the notion of having a national language – to be used for all official communication and to be used as the MOI in all public schools – and was successful in undermining the idea altogether. But it also gave birth to a political discourse that was obsessed with a rigid Tamil identity. The Dravidian governments have insisted, since then, on the necessity to preserve 'Tamil heritage' and its purported uniqueness. They have expressed concerns over Tamil losing its stature among its own populace.

Even if one does not problematize essentialist notions such as 'Tamil heritage', it is untenable to assume that maintaining Tamil as the primary medium of instruction in public schools would achieve that goal. The government has not done any studies to establish if public schools have produced more ‘authentic Tamils’ than private schools. Both in terms of feasibility and ideological apprehension that Tamil will lose its foothold among its people, the governments’ concerns seem unfounded. The Dravidian parties (DMK and ADMK) have, over the decades, used Tamil to exploit a populist sentiment that is not necessarily reflected on people’s economic aspirations and the means to achieving them. However, this populist sentiment is not peculiar to Tamil politics alone. The mainstream media, especially films, exhibit a dichotomous behavior in which people who speak ‘pure’ Tamil considered to be true to their identity while indirectly maintaining that those who speak ‘good’ English are sophisticated. (This observation is all the more relevant for a state like Tamil Nadu.)

‘Symbolic violence’, Bourdieu says, is when structures of domination in a society are reproduced by imposing cultural values claimed to be universal. English, in this context, maybe argued as an elitist cultural value thrust on the poor and socially backward by creating an illusion of empowerment while simultaneously delegitimizing Tamil’s role in achieving the same. But it is in direct contradiction with macro, external realities such as the difficulties faced by Tamil medium students when they enter the university level and the labour market. The underlying problem is not whether or not English is desired by all sections of the society but whether the State should maintain its exclusivity.

Conclusion:

English linguistic capital continues to be linked to cultural and economic capital and to reproduce the existing stratification of society and schooling. This practice has only become stronger over the years; the recent economic growth driven by the IT industry has re-invented the elite status that English language has long held in India. Students’ performance in private, English medium schools has also legitimized the power exerted by English, further increasing its desirability. Therefore, it is unrealistic to hope that students from Tamil medium schools will be able to compete on a level playing field in the future.

The MOI issue in Tamil Nadu, as interpreted through the linguistic capital perspective, maybe interpreted with Giddens’ structuration theory: where agency (parental aspiration) combines with structure (parents’ cultural background and the school system) to produce and reify social structures and behavior. The successive governments lead by the Dravidian parties, by the way of restricting the MOI to Tamil in most of the public schools, has repressed the agency of those who need it the most – the poor and the backward classes. The political elites of Tamil Nadu – primarily from the Dravidian parties – have created a landscape that has normalized several false dichotomies.

The purported significance of a Tamil identity, it can be argued, is no more than a hegemonic thrust of a moralistic ideology that marginalized the fundamental aspirations of a people who were already politically and economically disenfranchised, especially the SC/ST. The DMK’s vision of empowering the masses by reclaiming the Tamil identity has been farcical at best. It laid a heuristic obstacle by creating dead ends to students who were indirectly forced to go through Tamil-medium schools. Tamil’s virtual absence in universities and colleges stand testament to this claim. The language policy is underpinned by the oversimplification of Tamil ethnic identity to medium of instruction in schools. A point that needs to be contrasted with the fact the much of the modern exposure of Tamil, as a language and a cultural entity, has been fuelled by social and technological development rooted in English.

A State that envisions an egalitarian society – that makes policy reforms to accommodate lower castes by quotas and other such reservation systems – should also take into account the interests of the wider public in other critical issues. Regardless of what percentage of people choose English-medium schools – if given the choice – the state government’s role in forcing them one way or the other is questionable. In a state with such visible stratification based on caste structures, the State needs to democratize the educational system in a way that reflects the current priorities of the people.

English, Tamil: The 'modernization' agenda (2 of 3)

A significant problem in using languages such as Tamil as the medium of instruction is the acute paucity of academic reading material. In 1981 the Government of Tamil Nadu established the Tamil University in Thanjavur. One of the important objectives of this University was to produce ‘reliable’ reference works and textbooks in Tamil for such courses as medicine and engineering. But as the University website proudly proclaims only a “half-a-dozen Engineering books and a few medical books have been wirtten in Tamil and published by the Tamil University” since its inception (typo theirs). Neither the government bodies nor the academic institutions have been able to constitute scholarly, peer reviewed journals in Tamil. So translations and original works, especially on science and technology, tend to be non-standardized.

Even these translated volumes, invariably, rely on terminologies that are merely phonetically reproduced with little depth in their concepts vis-à-vis the ‘regional language’ (Tamil in this case). Consequently, the students undergoing instruction in the regional languages at the university level have to rely on textbooks of dubious quality. Besides the technical problems of translation, translations on a large scale can neither keep pace with the growth of knowledge nor are they financially viable.

The Report of the Education Commission (1964-66) discusses the MOI issue in great detail. It is well worth our time to go over a few parts of the report to appreciate how poorly the government(s) and the educational institutions have fallen behind from their recommendations:

11.58 The Medium of Education. The problem of teaching and evaluation in higher education is inextricably linked with the medium of education and examination. It was pointed out earlier *136 that, as a part of the development of education in our country, we have to move energetically in the direction of adopting the regional languages as media of education at the university stage, that careful preparation should be made for the purpose, that both the manner and the time of transition would have to be left for decision to the university system. We shall now deal with some other aspects of the problem from the point of view of practical implementation:

(1) We would like to emphasize that the medium of classroom communication and examination should generally be the same. The present arrangement under which a large proportion of students, at the first degree stage and even later, use the regional language for purposes of examinations although the classroom instruction is given through the medium of English, is educationally unsatisfactory. If the student can be expected to express himself in the regional language in his examination, it should not normally be difficult for a teacher to do the same in the classroom. In fact, the student's understanding of the fundamental problems and issues would be better and his performance in the examination would improve if, in all cases where the universities have taken a decision to adopt the regional languages as media of examinations, they also decide to adopt them as normal media of classroom communication. However, it must be remembered that the hold of English as a medium in the universities is linked with the use of the regional languages as the languages of administration in the States. So long as the prize posts in administration go to students who have good command over English, it will not be surprising if a substantial proportion of students continue to prefer education given through it.

(2) While the goal is to adopt the regional languages as media of education, we should like to stress again that this does not involve elimination of English. In fact, English, as an important 'library language' would play a vital role in higher education. No student should be considered as qualified for a degree, in particular, a Master's degree, unless he has acquired a reasonable proficiency in English (or in some other library language). The implications of this are twofold: all teachers in higher education should be essentially bilingual in the sense that they would be able to teach in the regional language and in English, and all students (and, particularly postgraduate students) should be able to follow lectures and use reading materials in the regional language, as well as in English.

(3) Great care has to be taken to ensure that the progress of the student entering the university is hampered as little as possible by complexities relating to the media of education. In a student's life, the change from school to college is a crucial stage. On entering college, he finds that there is a greater demand on his powers of understanding and concentration than at school. When to this is added the difficulty inherent in a sudden change in the medium of education, it is not to be wondered at that many students feel bewildered and lost and lose zest in their studies. At the earlier stage of the undergraduate course, it will be an advantage if the bulk of the classwork is done through the regional language. As one goes higher up the educational ladder and as the student's command over English and his familiarity with its use as a medium of education increases, more and more of the class-work could be in English. At the postgraduate stage, at least for some time to come, the bulk of the class-work will have to be in English. (Emphasis mine.) page quoted from

It has been over 40 years since the report was published and the governments, state and central, have clearly failed to create a system in which non-English languages could retain their significance in higher education. This failure is pronounced in states like Tamil Nadu because one would expect to see a considerable amount of development of a language that underpins the mainstream political discourse in the state. But on the contrary, Tamil Nadu was one of the first states to virtually erase Tamil from the 'professional' courses. Even though the disproportionate rise of 'self-financing' colleges may appear to be the reason, it should be noted that government run engineering and medical colleges don't fare any better. Either way, it's squarely the governments' failing -- to adequately regulate private institutions and to develop the language proactively.

The status quo, given all the ironies and disconnects, is rather complex and one has to wonder if the current state of affairs is simply a result of historical trajectories, poor governance and post-colonial apathy. A closer look at mainstream, electoral politics may help us understand the case better.

(continued in next post)

Part 1: Linguistic Capital

English, Tamil: Linguistic Capital (1 of 3)

The notion of ‘linguistic capital’ is related to Bourdieu’s view of ‘cultural capital.’ In terms of education and schooling, the cultural capital thesis argues that some students possess the social class, family, cultural background and dispositions that enable them to utilize the school environment and its facilities more efficiently than those who do not. They are better acclimatized to the curricula and other benefits that branch from it. Those who are disadvantaged in this regard, on the other hand, tend to have a weaker grasp of the same knowledge as it is culturally alien to them, thereby affecting their learning and, in turn, their growth prospects. Thus social stratification and patterns of domination and subordination are reproduced, despite the school system’s apparent intention to provide equal opportunity to all.

The same holds true for linguistic capital: it can be defined as one’s fluency, expertise and comfort with a language which is used by groups that possess economic, social, cultural and political power and status in local and global society. The linguistic capital thesis, then, states that students who possess, or develop linguistic capital, thereby have access to better life chances. Schools that teach (in) a language associated with a higher socio-economic status, in effect, provide better opportunities for those who can take up that language. Even if it is offered democratically, there exist a number of barriers that promote selective inclusion. Schools, through their medium of instruction (MOI), are implicated in the production and reproduction of certain advantages in the society; linguistic capital is both the medium and outcome of the pursuit of enhanced life chances.

It is important, however, that we understand the dynamic nature of linguistic capital. It is something that can be acquired even by those who do not have ancestral precedents. So it is not impossible for a Tamil boy with Tamil speaking parents to acquire linguistic capital that is grounded in English or Hindi. It will be inaccurate to suggest otherwise, given how so many of us who went to English medium schools never once conversed in English with our parents.

English, in contemporary India, is essential for white-collar employment and is a key component of the ‘cultural capital’ of middle class Indians. As a significant cultural resource, English language proficiency is an imperative goal for the poor and middle class people to achieve social mobility beyond a point. Many of the jobs available in government and government-aided service sector stipulate knowledge of English as essential. The private sector, even before the economic liberalization since 1991, adopted a similar approach keeping in mind India’s multilingual markets. The outsourcing era has further substantiated proficiency of English as a necessary skill set in the urban employment sector. And the jobs that do not require the knowledge of English, both in organized and unorganized sectors are significantly low paying.

The language divide between those proficient in English and those who are not is also a mirror image of broader class and spatial divisions in India. Simply put, the elite and urban professional classes are well acquainted with English; the urban and rural poor, the farmers, and the local traders and merchants are not. In India, the ability to speak in English is not simply about jobs or economic growth, it's a significant marker of social status. As with many indicators of social mobility in India -- such as property ownership, annual income, employment rate etc. -- the upper castes also tend to be most proficient in English too; as they attend private, English medium schools the most. So a lower caste parent has multiple reasons to want his/her children to be educated in English. As many Dalit scholars have argued, it is a real means of empowerment.

This is a relatively unique situation in India in comparison to countries like France, Germany, or Japan. Although it needs to be mentioned that such 'admiration' for English is common in several other countries, especially in Southeast Asia. It is disingenuous to suggest that there’s a possible parallel between aforementioned countries and India. India is also different in its market structure and the technical modernization (or the lack thereof) that the ‘regional languages’ have gone through.

(continued in next post)

Medium of Instruction

My point exactly:

The Supreme Court on Tuesday frowned upon the imposition of mother-tongue as a compulsory medium of instruction in educational institutions and warned it could go against the interests of students struggling in the competitive world dominated by English language.

It's a point that has been argued several times over by many scholars before. I refrained from writing or talking about it in detail because it was my master's research paper and had plans of expanding it further for my Ph D. But since I've become disillusioned with the idea (of doing Ph D) I'll try to write shortened version of it here or do a podcast on it.

'Talented' Ms. Haasan

If you're not someone who follows all the 'special columns' in mainstream (Indian) newspapers and tabloid sites religiously, it's not that hard to be oblivious of Shruti Haasan's existence. But some of my friends aren't as fortunate. It’s aggravated further if they happen to be in the same 'batch' and went to a similar school as she -- one of those upscale vidhyalaya types located in that part of the city where it's easy to find a coffee shop than parking space.

While talking to one of them, she expressed disbelief and frustration over the kind of attention she's been getting from "all directions." She said how bad she was (at singing) at school and how nobody cared -- suggesting that she's not any better now but somehow the reception has reversed. I wasn't sure if that is the case. I checked couple of her 'performances' in YouTube and my friend was right: Shruti Haasan cannot sing. The good news, however, is that at least half of the people who commented didn't sound all that impressed.

If she sucks so bad why do the mainstream observers, especially men, seem to be entranced by her 'talent'? Well, because "she's hot." Let's suspend our subjectivities on both counts -- her musical prowess and her sex appeal -- and see exactly what that means and how those two things come together.

Sexual objectification and its consumption usually leans on some kind of perversion after a point. Here, perversion is not a debatable entity. No matter where one's moral compass stands, sexual fantasies are often predicated on some kind of perversion from that point. Where some kind of transgression takes place.

Even though there is plenty of free porn available in the internet -- with a lot of 'beautiful', 'hot' women -- why do people seem to be obsessed with "nipple slips" and cleavages of some celebrity? Because, they have already been mentally undressed by a part of their consumers. They're just curious whether their fantasy matches the reality. It's particularly misogynistic when the consumer is a man and the consumed is a woman. Because, a talented woman is superior to the man in question by virtue of their emplacement in the equation. So he brings her stature down by objectifying her sexually -- a common, uncomplicated tactic. The society has already sanctioned a prejudiced morality and status for sex for the genders. It's the reason why almost all curse words, transcending language barriers, invariably invoke a woman's sexual discipline. So when they say "she's hot" they ascribe other not so desirable characteristics too (that of a slut etc.).

Ms. Haasan's case is also a tad bit different. Someone who may very well be just another light-skinned, lanky lass has been credited with talent and aptitude barely discernible by most of us.Again, why?

Consumption is invariably hinged on the symbolic sign associated with what's consumed. Any object that is beyond the most basic human needs (such as hunger) is bound to become a sign in order to be consumed. Without these signs it's impossible to establish the difference between objects; to get/form a sense of uniqueness about anything (Baudrillard).

So Ms. Haasan may be light skinned and lean -- a conforming sign that fits a common sexual ideal -- but how is she unique? Besides, does she have to be unique? That's dependent on how particular you are about your sexual fantasies. For those who do, she has to be unique and 'different' from the rest of the pack. For this, her eyes, nose, hair, and, of course, cleavage may not suffice. Our dear male may have difficulty in putting them together as a unique sign. That's where 'talent' comes to the rescue. It's a safe refuge to preserve their sense of taste and nuance. They're not the shallow men whose penile reservoirs swell at the mere sight of cleavage, it takes serious talent to turn them on. It's only a coincidence that she's 'hot'.

For Indian television that is preoccupied by movies and movie personalities, Ms.Haasan makes for a nutritious fodder. Her relationship with the tabloids and their existence is almost as basic as food and hunger. And given how much our own lives are tabloidized, this bland soup will be 'hot' for a while.

Boyfriend Latte

It is one of the funniest short films I've seen in recent times. It has some mildly choppy moments but overall it keeps its satire relatable and has a profound metaphorical touch (not sure if that's intentional).


Watch it here.