Only to you I surrender

In a recent interview, Celine Song (director, The Materialists) said and I quote “Poverty is not the fault of the poor”. There is a lot to ponder over this short yet heavily articulated line. Especially when you’ve just watched a movie like Twameva Sharanam Mama. A short film set in Belthangady (inferring this from the reference to Sowthadka Temple), in which we see a delicate exploration of caste dynamics and the priorities of privilege. We’re introduced to this world with a man offering his prayers to the almighty and simultaneously we’re introduced to the house help who’s toiling herself in the estate. In this opening scene, we’re introduced two things - Worship and Work. And when I think of it, I’m taken straight back to school wherein Tagore in his poem, “Work is Worship” said and I’m paraphrasing, “God doesn’t lie behind closed doors, God exists where the tiller tills the land”. Need I say more?  The first instance of a conflict comes in the most subtle way possible wherein we have the help ask for her wages. It’s dismissed. Not just dismissed but the help is made to feel guilty for asking what she’s deserved and an excuse is thrown at her - where the man (Brahmin) refers to a recently completed puja which cost him a lot. Now I’ll get back to this but the more prominent conflict (or the inciting incident) comes when somebody steals a bag of areca nuts from the estate. It’s instantly revealed that the thief is none other than the help’s grandchild. At this juncture, we might question the act but here comes the rather funny or stupid way our society functions. That we fail to see the absurdity of our own actions. The old man is worried and calls his usual go-to man to find a solution to this. The solution: go meet a priest. Now this is where probably most of us as the privileged members of society fail. There’s a house help whom you’ve hired to make your life easy on a day-to-day basis, she’s toiling hard in your estate and ensuring you have an income through your farm. And then there’s God whom you offer puja and a lot more things, hoping for a great life ahead. We’re failing to see what’s in front of us, helping us and we fail to acknowledge that with a well-deserved compensation but we’re ready to spend as many times as possible on a hope that things would be great in the future while all we know is that even if God exists, don’t think he’d be waiting to be pleased with Pujas over his own creation suffering with poverty. And not just that, the old man is ready to spend further to catch a thief who’s born out of his doing. All things said, the way these scenes are handled with care are a treat to watch. A song plays while the kid and the grandmother walks to town to sell the bag of nuts and get the child’s uniform. The song is a gem. It so beautifully captures the act and puts things in perspective. This is followed with the god-fearing man trying to impart his fear to the thief with prayers and splashing of the holy water. Now this is witnessed by the child as he’s eating breakfast at the master’s house (why? Because all the money they earned with the loot was spent on the uniform). And this creates chaos in the mind of the little boy. He’s in turmoil. This is another aspect of the film I love is how it shows big ideas without saying a lot. We hear instances of CBFC asking makers to remove callouts to the caste system or cut instances where a certain upper caste is shown in a bad light. But here, we see something so deeply rooted in the system that it doesn’t even need to be spelt out. The kid runs, lives in fear of being caught, the man towers over him with his presence on his motorbike, he fears even the privileged kids in his class know of his actions and runs. How long can or will he run? The last stretch of the film shows that there is just no respite. Like Manu Joseph’s new title - Why the poor don’t kill us. The running never stops even if it looks like they’re quietly moving on. The privileged want to make an example out of it, to further highlight the difference of their superiority. Now I've even been surrounded by folks who talk in the most casual manner of the difference. Akul maddeler, oh shettr nakul maare - we’re all plagued by a form of short-term memory loss. We see the oppressed slowly become oppressors, even though the oppression might take different shapes and sizes. It’s not always caste, it comes in the form of power, money and clout. I’m not saying the world is bleak and is filled with evil. I just hope we as a collective humankind be better, try to look within, change over time like how at the end of True Detective he points at the night sky and says - Well, once there was only dark. You ask me, the light’s winning. I hope we’re getting better and we’ll reach a better version of what we’re today.