When Assurance Serves to Frighten

It is well known that most Indian families buy jewellery in anticipation of their daughter’s wedding. Most jewellery gifting in India is also connected to weddings. It is therefore not surprising that marriages and weddings feature prominently in jewellery advertisements.

It is no secret that parents of the bride are happy and apprehensive at the same time. They are in the middle of making perhaps the single biggest spend of their lives. In most cases the bride and groom are strangers, the families don’t know each other well, and parents are hoping their daughter will ‘adjust’ in her new home. Will the married couple get along? Will their daughter be able to pursue a career? There are many uncertainties. 

Enter Tanishq. The brand has, in the last quarter-century, always reassured parents.  In a situation fraught with risk, at least the jewellery is guaranteed. 

Given this background, the recent Ekatvam advertisement is puzzling. Interfaith marriages in India are Uncertainty on steroids. At best, families grudgingly accept the choice made by their offspring, and make the effort to get along. Often, an uneasy compromise entails the breaking off of relations, sometimes repaired with the passage of time and the birth of a grandchild. In a country where inter-caste or same-gotra marriages are, in many cases, seen as justification for honour killing, a Hindu-Muslim wedding may well be the trigger for wider-spread violence. It isn’t right. It isn’t legal. But this is how it is.

So, knowing India’s obsession with finding a suitable boy for their daughter, why should Tanishq lead parents to imagine their daughter marrying outside the religion?

Talking of a suitable boy, Vikram Seth’s magnum opus makes an important distinction. We are uplifted by the reconciliation of Maan Kapoor and Feroze, of Minister Kapoor and the Nawab. We hope for a similar rapprochement in the India of today. But Lata Mehra’s choice of husband is Haresh Khanna, not Kabir Durrani. Another heroine in another book may have made a different choice. But in a book titled ‘A Suitable Boy’, Seth couldn’t have. It was heartbreaking to read in 1993 and it is heartbreaking to watch in 2020. But that is how it is.

The Ekatvam ad set out to show interfaith harmony.  It actually showed interfaith matrimony. The two shouldn't be conflated. The first is our pride and joy and the hallmark of our culture, yes hopefully even today. But the second has always been a problematic exception, with questions about conversion and name change and societal acceptance. Do interfaith marriages happen in India? Yes. Do many of them thrive? Yes. Are they inspirational? Yes, for many like me. Are they aspirational? No. 

In the larger context, most Indians claim to be inspired by higher ideals. We claim to hope for a day when caste, community, religion or region won’t matter while seeking a matrimonial alliance. But that day isn’t here yet. And it is neither Tanishq’s responsibility, nor remotely within its ability, to march India into that brave new dawn. Tanishq has always been a progressive brand, not an activist one. Rightly so, given the space in which it exists.

An advertisement isn’t just a public service message about Mera Bharat Mahan. While inspiring the audience to higher values, it invites the customer to place herself in the centre of the advertising story and personally experience the emotional payoff. In today’s India, imagining their daughter in the Ekatvam situation is unfortunately a frightening prospect for many parents. With mobs having the run of social media platforms, and perhaps of the high street, a brand with stores having crores worth of inventory in every city becomes a sitting duck with one error of judgment. Tanishq was absolutely right to withdraw the ad, for more reasons than one.

A Happy Guru Dutt is Joy Forever

In this therapeutic piece, I press myself to remember that when Guru Dutt was happy, the screen lit up with joy.  

Guru Dutt in a still from Pyaasa

What does one say of Guru Dutt that hasn't already been said? Of that great prophet of pain, the auteur who foretold his own end in that memorable classic, Kaagaz ke Phool? Of the seeker whose thirst remained unquenched, the one who remained eternally wistful, eternally Pyaasa?  

Pyaasa- The Crucifixion of the Artist

Books and papers have been written on  the famous mise-en-scene  symbolising a society that crucifies its artists before deifying and worshipping them (Pyaasa), the crumbling of a decadent feudal structure seen through the ruins of a splendid haveli and a broken marriage (Sahab Bibi aur Ghulam), and that remarkable moment in cinema when two souls unite in a beam of pure sunlight, even as their physical selves walk away from each other (Kaagaz ke Phool).

Sahab Bibi aur Ghulam - A Story of Ruins

His ability to capture despair, longing, rejection, disillusionment and desolation through light and shadow, through song and brooding silence, through stillness and sublime movement is legendary. His camera, never a voyeur, moved closer into his characters’ faces than ever before, looking into their very soul. 

The Beam of Light in Kaagaz ke Phool

When Guru Dutt was sad, he could make the world go dim and dismal. Each repeated viewing of  Pyaasa or Kaagaz ke Phool casts sombre clouds and dark shadows.  In this therapeutic piece, I press myself to remember that when Guru Dutt was happy, the screen lit up with joy.  

With Geeta Bali in Baaz

Baaz released in the year that Guru Dutt married the singer Geeta Roy. He has never looked better than he did in this film, playing a rakish prince held captive on a pirate ship. In a brief exchange,  Guru Dutt, the captive prince, tells a pestering Portuguese woman to jump into the sea. “It will free us both,” he deadpans. Don’t miss the twinkle in his eye. This movie also has a qawwali – Jo dil ki baat hoti hai – see how Guru Dutt does very little by way of mannerism, but the rhythm is obviously inside him. Considering that this was his first starring role, his control over expression belies claims of his being a limited actor. Despite its shortcomings, Baaz is an underrated entertainer.

With Shyama in Aar Paar

In Aar-Paar, the sun-sun-sun-sun zalima song is one of the peppiest duets ever - the easy dancing, the catchy rhythm, and two people clearly having fun. While in Aar-Paar Guru Dutt had not yet found his signature imprint so evident in his later classics, this song is an early sign of great things to come.

With Madhubala in Mr and Mrs '55

In another close-up scene in Mr and Mrs ’55, the beautiful but batty heiress asks him his name. “Preetam,” he says. “Pree...” she blushes, and stops. “A strange name,” she says shyly. “Repeat it a few times, you will like it,” he offers helpfully. Not just Madhubala, all Guru Dutt bhakts fell in love with this delightful mix of innocence and cunning.

With Waheeda Rehman in Chaudhvin ka Chand

In Chaudhvin ka Chand, to provoke his new bride into lifting her veil and showing him her face, he claims to be one-eyed, pock-marked and buck-toothed. His subsequent wooing of his bride with the  ever-famous love ballad set benchmarks in romance on celluloid  that remain unsurpassed.

As Bhootnath in Sahab Bibi aur Ghulam

Another favourite is from Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, not least because this light-hearted scene was shot at a time in his life when darkness had started to envelope him. In this scene he makes Jaba jealous of Chhoti Bahu (partly deliberately, partly with naïvety), turning the tables on her (normally she is the one bossing him). All the while he is eating heartily, biting into a sharp green chilli when she’s cross, and enjoying a laddoo in the end, when he’s had his sweet revenge and annoyed her thoroughly.

That there is a lot of the real Guru Dutt in his cinema is well-established. The demons lurking in his mind finally claimed him, much too soon. The raw power of the pain he managed to evoke in his viewers can be hard to deal with. Remembering the few times when he smiled helps us heal a little, with a few happy memories to bear the heartbreak.