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I'm Filthy, You're Filthy, But It's Only Culture

The title I like best, and it's a hard choice from among several classics, is Andheri Raat Mein Diya Tere Haath Mein. If you're not chuckling, you don't know Hindi. But don't let that bother you, here's the explanation. The play is on the word diya which can mean both "lamp" and "gave it to you." That is, this film title can mean both "On a dark night there's a lamp in your hand" and "On a dark night I gave it to you in your hand."

Of course, the late Dada Kondke knew which of those two he wanted you to keep in mind. I have yet to see one of his films -- certainly an enduring sorrow of my mounting years. But even without my material contributions, Kondke was an immensely popular, successful film-maker. He is something of a legend: more so in Maharashtra, but certainly over much of the rest of the country too. Millions went to his films and laughed at the ribald jokes, the naughty word play.

Given that, who would venture to suggest that Dada Kondke was a menace to our culture? So far, nobody has. While I have an idea why, actually that is exactly as it should be. Far from threatening culture, Kondke's films were an expression, an exploration, a living facet of it.

I make this point because we are smack in the middle of one more in a periodic series of attempts to "protect culture." This time, the rash has lashed out in all kinds of different directions, ranging from fast-food outlets to young couples doing what young couples do to Bombay's popular sex comedy plays. With some strange synchronicity, all these are under simultaneous attack from people determined to protect our ancient culture.

OK, so I'm more interested in the sex than in the fast food. Whatever, I want to shout at these protectors: the greatest danger to our culture is from you.

Yes, in all these words about some holy culture that needs protection, we are assaulted, yet again, by people who have simply no idea what culture is. The Pramod Navalkars, who have suddenly found that rock music is positively bursting at the seams with lewd lyrics, that sex comedies are likewise, and both must be kept away from too-fragile Bombayite senses. The Alka Pandeys, who are thrilled with every move to harass couples looking for no more than a little privacy.

These people, who would not know culture if it rose up lasciviously and gave them a whopping sloppy wet kiss on the mouth. As perhaps it should. Then again, maybe not.

In another context that might well have been this one, Alexander Cockburn wrote some months ago: "What we're seeing here is one of the most disgusting of all spectacles: Puritans wringing their hands while clambering on one another's shoulders to peep in the bedroom window." Indeed. Our homegrown Puritans are at their most vocal, they register their loudest outrage, when wide-eyed and face-to-face with the most elemental, widespread, ordinary human behaviour of all: what happens between women and men.

Oddly enough, Navalkar, Maharashtra's minister for cultural affairs, began his campaign against rock music and sex plays about the time Dada Kondke died some weeks ago. He has a Marathi lyricist called Shantaram Nandgaonkar doing the dirty work -- ooh, how dirty! -- for him. Nandgaonkar heads something called the Stage Performances Scrutiny Board. This gang of 17 people has Scrutinised -- dirty work, did I say? Somebody had to do it -- all the sex plays and revoked their licenses to perform in the city.

Navalkar and Nandgaonkar were quizzed about Dada Kondke. Seeing that the state never once came down on Kondke's films, that it has even instituted a Rs 25,000 award in his name for the best rural film, why were they so suddenly outraged by these plays? After all, even their names could not hold a diya to Kondke's cleverly naughty titles. So why the double-entendre standards?

As I said, I have an idea why. But of that, more later. Nandgaonkar, for his part, produced a gem of an answer. "Kondke's issue is different. ... It's vulgar, but appeals to rural audiences."

Ah, so that's it. Vulgarity is fine if it appeals to those no-account rural masses. They can be exposed to our deteriorating culture and that's OK. It's only urbanites who need to be shielded. Though even there, there's the odd implication that Kondke's vulgarity does not appeal to urban audiences. Which is patently untrue, as Nandgaonkar and Navalkar might have learned from a glance at the packed houses his films always produced in theatres across Bombay.

Really, how are you supposed to react to inspired nonsense on this scale?

You wait for more, that's how. Navalkar recently announced that all "enclosed" bus stops will be dismantled. The few such stops in the city attracted couples in their constant search for privacy; which perversion cannot be allowed any longer. At Five Gardens in the Dadar area of Bombay, local municipal corporator Babubhai Bhawanji is busy replacing all the benches in the park with single-seating chairs. This is to discourage couples who snuggled up to each other on those benches. My corporator, one Oliver Andrade, is responsible for the park where I do my on-again, off-again evening jog. To a gathering of area residents once, he spoke proudly of his strict instructions to the park staff to crack down on couples found necking. (One of those residents had the cheek to pipe up with "Oliver, weren't you young once?" It's lucky for the couples he did pipe up, because in the park these days, they are generally left to their cuddling devices.)

"Our sanskar [loosely, values or culture] is being hit below the belt" -- yes, below the belt -- "by westernisation," says Pramod Navalkar. "[This] is something we cannot tolerate."

Looking on approvingly at this intolerance is Alka Pandey, a lady who belongs to something called the Akhil Bharatiya Agnishiksha Manch. The ABAM is usually described as an "anti-vulgarity outfit", having given itself the weighty task of defending the country's morals. Pandey was thrilled with measures like chairs-for-benches and the bus stop demolitions. "Do what you want in your bedrooms," she said. "Why force us to witness your filthy behaviour?"

Ah, so that's it. Filthy behaviour. Not only that, those who indulge in it are forcing poor Alka Pandey to witness it! They simply will not let her so much as turn her head away, look elsewhere, carry on with the rest of her life!

Besides, everything that goes on in bedrooms is, of course, filthy. Makes you wonder: has Alka Pandey ever given a thought to just how she came to be? Also, in a city where single rooms are often home to ten or more people, asking couples to retire to their bedrooms is rather like asking them to visit the moon. Except when you are diligently protecting Indian culture.

Really, and again, how ARE you supposed to react to this kind of nonsense?

Perhaps by remembering the real truth about culture. Over a year ago, I myself wrote in this corner of netspace: " ... culture is not some remote ideal that's set in stone, forever immutable, forever virtuous. Culture is what's happening all around us today. It's sublime, it's vulgar, it's ordinary. It's joyous, dismaying, uplifting. It defies every definition, every straitjacket."

Indian culture is not just the Vedas and temples to Ram. It is also those sex comedies. It is also Dada Kondke's films. It is also couples desperate for some public place to find privacy. A culture without these things would be dead, and deservedly so. Instead, it is these influences that make culture the powerful, alive, vibrant force it is, one that has resonance and relevance to millions.

I know I have missed an entire slice of our culture because I have not yet seen a Dada Kondke film. I will remedy that soon. There's no need to worry that his films will be banned, vulgar or not. You see, what I have not told you about Kondke is that he was a staunch Shiv Sena supporter, a valued campaigner at election time. He was close to Remote Controller Thackeray himself and the rest of the Remote Controlled party hierarchy.

That, finally, tells you the real truth about protecting culture: it's entirely political. If the producers of those sex comedies had only learned that lesson, if they had only danced to the Remote, they'd still be in business today.

And I could be drooling over one of their plays instead of banging at these filthy keys.

Tailpiece:

More quotes on the Srikrishna report, quotes that need no comment at all.

" 'If Mr Joshi has his way, he would make the report public even today', sources claimed, adding: 'But he is under tremendous pressure from a section of the Sena not to take that step.' "

The Afternoon, April 8, 1998

"There is speculation that the report contains adverse references to the Sena and its chief Bal Thackeray. Even though earlier, Chief Minister Manohar Joshi and Deputy Chief Minister Gopinath Munde had indicated their willingness to table the report, they are now apparently having second thoughts. The ruling alliance fears that there will be a public uproar if the report is made public."

Times of India, April 14 1998.

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