女生规则

Tu Khud ki Khoj mein Nikal

tu khud ki khoj mein nikal
tu kis liye hataash hai
tu chal tere vajood ki
samay ko bhi talaash hai

(go, find yourself,
why are you despondent?
go, even time is
looking for your existence.)

jo tujh se lipTi bediyaan
samajh na inko vastra tu
ye beRiyaan pighaal ke
bana le in ko shastra tu

(the chains that cuff you,
don't think of them as your clothes.
melt these chains,
and make them your weapon.)

tu khud ki khoj mein nikal
tu kis liye hataash hai
tu chal tere vajood ki
samay ko bhi talaash hai

charitra jab pavitra hai
to kyun hai ye dasha teri
ye paapiyon ko haq nahi
ke lein pareeksha teri

(when your character is pure,
why are you in such a state?
sinners don't have a right
to examine or check you.)

tu khud ki khoj mein nikal
tu kis liye hataash hai
tu chal tere vajood ki
samay ko bhi talaash hai

jalaa ke bhasm kar use
jo kroorta ka jaal hai
tu aarti ki lau nahi
tu krodh ki mashaal hai

(burn and incinerate
the web of atrocity around you.
you aren't the holy flame of worship,
but a fire of anger.)

[mashaal = torch]

tu khud ki khoj mein nikal
tu kis liye hataash hai
tu chal tere wajood ki
samay ko bhi talaash hai

chunar uRa ke dhwaj bana
gagan bhi kampkampaayega
agar teri chunar giri
to ek bhukamp aayega

(fly your scarf like a flag,
even the sky will shake.
and if your scarf falls,
an earthquake will come.)

tu khud ki khoj mein nikal
tu kis liye hataash hai
tu chal tere wajood ki
samay ko bhi talaash hai

Recently I have unfailingly surprised myself with the fact that I have so far watched 55 movies that has “India” as a tag. I know, though, that it is nothing to be surprised about when dwarfing this figure against either the sheer volume of Bollywood productivity, or the subsequent reminder that has already been seven years since the rabbit hole of this incredible country has cracked open for me.

This figure has nonetheless put me into a justifiable position to summarize my stereotypes on Indian movies. And it does not take long to come up with these words:
cheesy, “masala”, dramatic (and sometimes naively or even stupidly so), loudly, and- of course- sing and dance, sing and dance, sing and dance…

These stereotypes sometimes feel comforting to foreigners like me, because stereotypical movies are easy to follow even if you don’t understand the language. You can also start guessing the plots early on, and the movies would end up with no substantial difference from your guessing. Being easy and predictable, it also saves brainpower so that you don’t have to think much. In other words, it is a cheap and really effortless way of relaxation. An entertainment.

Insomuch as it is entertaining, it can be confusing and even frustrating. In all the Bollywood movies I’ve watched so far (perhaps with the sole exception of Slumdog Millionaire which is actually from Hollywood), India is always portrayed as spotlessly clean, without dust and no single trace of pollution. Metros or local trains are never packed. Traffic jam never a grueling pain to be confronted (fair enough: why waste the precious screen time on the seemingly endless jams?!) Suffocating crowdedness and the lack of space? All these can be whitewashed by an idyllic hue with some simple maneuvering of colors and lights made possible by advanced filming technologies…

If even the surface of life is fabricated and brushed into such a fancy and romantic fairy-tale never-land, what portion of reality would you expect the movies to touch upon in terms of real contents?

That is where Pink, the latest Indian movie I have watched, differs. It is a precious anomaly on the Indian screens after such a long while that was brave enough to pick up and challenge against a grave social reality. It embodies a rare and respectable effort to actually make people think. And think hard, as the message delivered are way less pinky than the title would suggest.

The movie did prove itself to be different since the very beginning. No typical elements mentioned above were present. What caught the eyes was instead an intenseness that flows through the swift volatility of scenes around the girls and the boys despite the normality of neighborhood. The high-pitched, playful and sexy female singing common to most Bollywood pieces was also replaced by a low-pitch gloomy voice that preys and haunts and lingers, to create and corroborate a feeling of tragic vulnerability.

But I also feel that the mood of the first half (before intermission) was a bit overdone that made it comparatively mediocre and even somewhat bizarre. For example, perhaps to showcase the character of a lawyer, Deepak Sehgal has worn a stern face ever since his first appearance- which, immersed in and intermingled with the creepy and nervous background music, disseminates an uneasy feeling as if Big B[rother] is watching you. This sternness was tendered only by his visits to his hospitalized wife.*

Then, when it comes to the second half, the lawyer had and charmingly held the whole stage. Yet what enriches the movie from a one-man show into the current version of depth and audacity is that other characters played their part with equal strength and excellence. Especially the lawyer from the opposite side Prashantji, who cunningly tries to underpin the three girls as sex workers by highlighting the monetary issues. Indicating the girls as such also adds another delicate yet thought-provoking dimension to the story, on which the current Indian society is perhaps yet to grow adapted so as to reflect frankly and open-mindedly. At the very least, concerns on this dimension may well be the reason why they did not resort to the police in the first place. (The police do not seem to be a trustworthy venue of justice whatsoever.)

I particularly like the last two rounds of questioning which, in my opinion, have been the climax of the entire movie. Till then, my initial boredom and cluelessness has evaporated entirely. And although I still wasn’t able to capture every detail because of the language barrier, the broader message got me completely (also thanks to the timely interpretation of my friend). Through the intense flurry of gestures, tears and expressions of the girl Falak under the increasingly overwhelming pressure from Prashantji, I had no problem sympathizing with her deep frustration and depression. Similarly, when the boy Rajveer was cornered by Deepakji’s turn, I cannot agree more with the final message: No means NO. Whether it comes from a girl, a girlfriend, a random person or a sex worker.

Such a simple message it is. Such a helpless situation that the country has been so ignorant about it, that a simple message like this needs to be delivered in as a serious and sophisticated manner as possible in order to be heard. And such a brilliant initiative the movie is taking, in conveying it in this well-elaborated and well-played story.

For those who question why the movie did not fix the character of Deepak Sehgal as a female lawyer, I was nevertheless unable to get the point. Pardon my limited knowledge about the Indian movie industry, but I failed to nominate in my mind a single actress who is as influential as the Bachchan and can thus deliver the message in an equally eloquent, cogent and powerful manner. More importantly, the charge is missing the point. It is too rigid an interpretation of feminism, women empowerment or whatever you call it. Compared with the gender of the messenger, the message itself matters much more. If anything, Big B’s playing such a decisive role in the movie is the best demonstration of “He for She” that I can think of. In the end, it is less about reversing the dominance of men with that of women. It is about creating a widespread and much-needed consensus, among men and women alike, that women are to be respected rather than abused, whose free wills are to be honored rather than violated.

If one is really picky about the movie, you can say that it is still somewhat ideal. Poor King’s College whose name was borrowed as a negative illustration that higher or more degrees does not necessarily prove one’s being educated at an expected level. However, at least in this movie, schooling abroad at prestigious universities does seem to indicate a minimum of civility, which is why the case was lucky enough to be rested in the court.

India’s harsh reality is by no means endowed with this luxurious luck. In the more common patterns frequency exposed in the media, sexual harassment, intimidation, molesting or other abusive cases were more likely to be succumbed to macabre male violence, sometimes with deadly consequences, before the court ever got the chance to be involved. Nor did the movie inquired deeper into the family background of the boys, or how their rich yet illiterate or poorly-educated mothers and “successful” yet similarly minded fathers have doted them into the irresponsive and misbehaving persons they have now become. Accordingly, it might be the case that the breadth and depth of the “mental bomb” detonated by this movie may be restricted by its very set-up.

Having said so, those minor limitations would not prevent the radiance of the movie from shining at all. Indeed, instead of routinely embracing the more revealing and tantalizingly sexual Bollywood music videos featured by excessive showoffs and consumptions of breasts and hips, it is movies like Pink, with brain and compassionate heart, which should be encouraged, warmly received and solemnly contemplated.

Finally, an outcry to Chinese filmmakers (or rather the regulators for that matter): In Korea, movies like So-won or Memories of Murder have been the brave bullets that bite directly the brutal scars of the society. Japanese movies and TV series also have the reputation of being closely connected to reality (接地气). Now even Indian screens are catching up with Pink- how or indeed when can we anticipate a change from your side?

(I later on learned from IMDB plot that Deepak Seghal suffers from bipolar disorder. If that is the case, then the big-brother-watching-you type of face does make sense. Still, background information in the first half could have been unfolded in a more succinct and elegant way.)