Shilpa Shetty and Racism

I was in India recently (Jan, 07) and Shilpa Shetty was all over the news regarding an episode on Big Brother where Jade Goody made some racist remarks. A few days later, I saw an excellent article by Barkha Dutt on this topic in Hindustan Times. She makes some very good points. Here is the article by her.


NOW, SUDDENLY, even she says it’s not racism. So, where does that leave the spluttering rage of the Information and Broadcasting Ministry and the controlled indignation of the Foreign Ministry? Have you ever seen the Government of India respond with such speed before? Remember how many days the Maharashtra government took to work up even a modicum of anger over the murder of a poor Dalit girl in Khairlanji? So, what makes Shilpa Shetty so different from Priyanka Bhotmange? And why the alacrity to intervene in what Labour peer Lord Meghnad Desai describes as a “third-rate show watched by third-rate people”?As mass hysteria gets dressed up in layers of political correctness, the honesty of the debate seems to have got rather conveniently cloaked as well.

First, there’s the hypocrisy of the Indian response and the wonderfully deluded dimension to our outrage. Our temples have caste barriers; our homes have separate glasses for the men and women who mop our floors and clean our bathrooms; we think all men who grow beards and wear skull caps may be terrorists; we treat the North-east like a separate country comprising people we affectionately call ‘chinkis’; and when it comes to finding brides for our sons, we insist that fair is lovely. Outside India, put us brown folk into one room, and we will even set aside our differences to whisper in snide bewilderment about the ringlet-haired black people whom many of us still call Negroes.Okay, perhaps I exaggerate.

In many ways, India is fighting a battle with herself to move beyond an ugly past. But the truth is still inescapable — as we assert pride in the Indian identity abroad, let’s not forget the preju- dice right here at home. And let’s also gracefully accept that the West has done a much better job than us of creating institutional mechanisms to address complaints of discrimination.Now, to the television show itself. Industry insiders will concede (if you catch them drunk) that there is nothing quite as contrived as reality TV. Essentially it’s all about human conflict so masterfully manipulated that it looks spontaneous, instead of staged. But think about it — what is natural about locking up a disparate bunch of men and women (usually, has-been starlets or wannabe stars) in an enclosed space and allowing them no contact with the outside world? It’s a show designed for dysfunctional dynamics. And I have a sneaking suspicion even the participants are acutely aware of the need to perform. After all, the longer they get to stay on in the ‘house’, the more money they make. We, the television viewers, are the masters of their fate, and they can never forget that they are always on stage. It’s almost like a striptease artist on display for a voyeur she can’t see, but one who not just watches her all the time, but pays her bills as well.

Those of you who have caught glimpses of Bigg Boss (the Indian variant of the international show) may know what I mean. The shrill catfights, the charged flirtations in dimly-lit corners, the competitive male swaggers and the women who constantly cry — don’t you find it all just cloying and claustrophobic, and worse still, horribly, unequivocally fake?Feminist and writer Germaine Greer, who describes Shilpa Shetty’s television avatar as “infuriating”, goes so far as to argue that “everybody hates her because she wants them to”. A former commissioning editor of Channel Four (the channel that telecasts Big Brother in Britain), Farrukh Dhondy, says that the television ex- ecutives running the show are thrilled at the contro- versy and must feel as victorious as Napoleon himself. And the statistics bear out their cynicism: the show has gained two million additional viewers since allegations of racism surfaced and the buzz is that Shilpa Shetty has manufactured enough sympathy for herself to stay on in the ‘house’.So, does this mean I am comfortable with the abuse heaped on the actress? No, not in the least.

The dis- paraging suggestions on the show that Indians are dirty because they eat with their fingers, the snide references to the ‘slums’ Shilpa should go back to and the clear jibes at her for being the odd one out are all dis- tasteful and offensive (white trash meets B-grade Bolly- wood). But here’s my point: this is meant to be a show driven by petty antago- nisms and ego clash- es, and Shilpa Shetty should have known that. Or, did she walk onto the sets with her eyes wide shut?And here’s the fascinating bit — when one of the abuses was blipped out on television, everyone thought Shilpa had been called a ‘Paki’; actually she had been called a c***. But once that was re- vealed, no one made too much fuss about it. Why? If this is about ideology, is racism that much worse than sexism? Is being called a ‘dog’ (which she was) somehow more acceptable than being called an ‘Indian’? Whether we like it or not, this is the sort of grossness that apparently makes reality TV both re- pulsive and rivetting; but it’s a baseness innate to the very idea of the show.

Even if we don’t agree with Farrukh Dhondy when he says that someone who has lived in the badlands of Bollywood should have a “skin as thick as a rhinoceros”, the fact is Shilpa Shetty is no unsuspecting victim. She will walk away with crores of rupees and it should come as no surprise that she has hastily retracted her own allegations of racial bias. Musicians like Birmingham-born Apache Indian (otherwise known as Steven Kapoor) warn against the trivialisation of the racism debate. He writes about leaving England for India since he could not feel at home there. He talks about how “stani” is the latest slur in town, reserved for immigrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan and ‘Hindustan’. Nobody paid him extra money for his pains. Racism is serious business. Cheap television is simply good business. Let’s not forget that distinction. And instead of playing Peeping Toms on some banal television show, let’s turn an eye inward. Then, we may find a real reason to be angry.

By Barkha Dutt in Hindustan Times

Nice Article on Sahir Ludhianvi

Published in
The Times of India Online timesofindia.indiatimes.com > Culture Curry


Har ek pal ka shayar[ 30 Oct, 2005 0252hrs IST TIMES NEWS NETWORK ]
Maana ki is zameen ko na gulzar kar sake Kuch khaar kam to kar gaye guzre jidhar se hum (Yes, I could not flower gardens on this earth/But I did lessen a few thorns on the paths I travelled) Sahir Ludhianvi, poet, humanist, rebel and incurable romantic, wrote those lines with characteristic self-deprecation. But of one thing there is no doubt: as far as the film world went, he flowered it in a way no lyricist before or after him did, changing the paradigm of the film song and elevating it to a standard that set a benchmark for generations. Much has been written about Sahir: the pain and rejection of his childhood and early youth that echoed in his poetry; the sublimation of that pain into a humanist vision that embraced the helpless and dispossessed of the world; his style, rich in thought, yet unburdened by complexity, so simple and direct that it went straight to the heart; his social conscience that gave the Hindi film world its most landmark lyrics in films like Pyaasa, Phir Subah Hogi, Sadhana and Dhool Ka Phool. And of course the beauty of his layered, mostly anguish-filled, romantic poetry in films from Girlfriend to Gumraah to Kabhi Kabhie.
But—and this is a personal take, no doubt—the magic of Sahir lay as much in his less celebrated songs. At a time when romantic lyrics didn't go too far beyond chaand, raat and judaai, his takes on love were more innovative: Tum agar mujhko na chaho to koi baat nahin/Tum kisi aur ko chahogi to mushkil hogi or Tum mujhe bhool bhi jaao to yeh haq hai tumko/Meri baat aur hai maine to mohabbat ki hai or indeed Chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jaayen hum dono. In Dhund, a little known B film, there is a gooseflesh-inducing song Sansar ki har shai ka itna hi fasana hai/Ek dhund se aana hai ek dhund mein jaana hai. A verse goes: Ek pal ki palak par hai thehri hui yeh duniya/Ek pal ke jhapakne tak har khel suhana hai. Innumerable Hindi film songs have been written on the life-death enigma but few as original as this one. Indeed, Sahir could suffuse the most ordinary film situation with meaning. Take Aage bhi jaane na tu, a mere 'club song' like Zindagi ittefaq hai years after it. In this lyric, on the ephemerality of the moment and the consequent need to live it fully, he spotlighted the elusive pal, garbing yesterday and tomorrow in an ominous darkness: Anjaane saayon ka raahon mein dera hai/Andekhi baahon ne hum sab ko ghera hai/Yeh pal ujala hai baki andhera hai/Yeh pal gawana na, yeh pal hi tera hai.
If you listen to it carefully, it is an amazing song, and possibly the inspiration for two lovely seize-the-moment lyrics that followed later: Gulzar's Aane waala pal and Javed Akhtar's Har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindagi. Whatever the context, few songs of Sahir were mundane. Not too many lyricists would have embedded philosophy in a rag-bone man's call: Khali dabba khali botal le le mere yaar/Khali se mat nafrat karna khali sab sansar. Or imbued a seemingly flip song revolving around a cigarette lighter (Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya/Har fikr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya) with such depth. Main zindagi ka saath... is no smoker's anthem, it is virtually a Vedantic paen to equanimity, and so simply and beautifully expressed at that. To try and bring out the genius of Sahir Ludhianvi in a few hundred words is a frustrating exercise in futility. Does one talk about the little surprises in his songs—a stray line or two that take your breath away when you least expect it—like Marne ka salika aate hi/Jeene ka shaoor aa jaata hai, a line in the essentially romantic song Chehre pe khushi chha jaati hai from Waqt? Does one focus on his uncanny gift of expression, the sheer beauty of his words? Suffice it to say that he was a class apart. Years ago, in one of his most famous songs, Main pal do pal ka shaayar hoon, he wrote 'Kal aur aayenge naghmon ki/Khilti kaliyan chunne waale/Mujhse behtar kehne waale/Tumse behtar sunne waale'. Sahir was wrong. Forget anyone better, there has never been anyone who even came close to him.

Likrat Shabbat

Recently had a tragedy occur with a friend. His 20 year old son committed suicide. I have been quite a fan of Rabbi Harold Kushner. I had read his book "When Bad Things Happen To Good People". Went and bought this book for my friend and read it again and re-read the poem by Rabbi Jack Riemer. Wanted to share it with you.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end war;
For we know that You have made the world in a way
That man must find his own path to peace
Within himself and his neighbor.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end starvation;
For you have already given us the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to root out prejudice,
For You have already given us eyes
With which to see the good in all men
If we would only use them rightly.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end despair,
For You have already given us the power
To clear away slums and to give hope
If we would only use our power justly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end disease,
For You have already given us great minds with which
To search out cures and healing,
If we would only use them constructively.

Therefore we pray to You instead, O God,
For strength, determination, and willpower,
To do instead of just to pray,
To become instead of merely to wish.

Rabbi Jack Riemer

Starting my first blog!

After contemplating for several months on starting a blog, I finally got past my inertia to create one. Let's see where this takes us.