Express News Service
It was nearly a year ago when director Selvaraghavan, during an interview, apologised for the song Kadhal en kadhal from his critically-acclaimed but much-debated-over Mayakkam Enna. By then, the song was already nine years old. While it did invite quite some rage during its release, and understandably so, from certain predictable sections of the audience, it took years of relentless commentary, more misogynistic work, some refreshingly authentic counter-narrative and a general dissipation of ‘woke’ness for the sentiment to result in the creator accepting the onus of responsibility and addressing past errors.
Such overt expressions of misogyny and sexism in Tamil movies and, particularly its songs, have been called out time and again — be it the deceptively fun Senthamizh naattu thamizhachiye or the problematic Intha ponnungale ippadi dhan. Yet, what we continue to miss is the subtle sexism that creeps into beautiful songs that we all hold dear. Brilliantly penned poetry that assigns all the worldly attributes of power, valour, strength and courage for the man but relegates the women to the tried and tested variables of beauty, softness and tenderness. At a time when the reality of gender and its expressions are far more diverse than this simplistic duality that we bind ourselves to, shouldn’t we hold a mirror up to this subliminal fallback?
Metaphors
Uma Devi, the poetess behind deep-seated favourites like Mayanadhi and Iravingu theevaai, certainly thinks so but is quick to point out that this is no recent phenomenon. “Even our early literature has the same things to say about men and women. All this comes down to a deliberate framework but it was sold as mere observations made from a woman’s body. These metaphors were designed as a way to downplay women’s strength, with the idea that she should not surpass the man. She was not meant to have authority over land, knowledge or philosophy. And we continue to hold on to it. It’s true of cinema too,” she remarks.
Perhaps, we have become all too sensitive to creative work, suggests lyricist Madhan Karky. “Speaking about gender as a man-woman binary itself has become problematic at a time when we have become open to a lot more genders. The concept of being politically correct is very hard on the creators,” he opines. Offering a simple example, he says that if he were to write ‘oomai megam’ as part of the lyrics, the censor board would not let him for the reason that it might hurt those who are speech-impaired. But changing it to ‘pesatha megam’ doesn’t work the same way, does it?
Range of reactions
Far from this hypothetical misfit, he’s had wide-ranging reactions to his real work too. When Thuppakki’s Google Google came out, he had a woman criticise him for comparing the heroine to chillies, basing it on the words ‘my hot and spicy girlfriend’. He had to explain that it was simply a way to say that her personality was interesting, the same way women sometimes refer to men (or anyone) as sweet. “Besides, sexy is something that is usually associated with the woman. In that song, we turned that association to the man,” he adds.
It’s also got to do with who writes for whom, suggests Uma. “The man is usually seen as the admirer and the woman as his object of admiration. It’s also men that the industry sees as its primary audience. To appease the section bringing in the money, it’s the industry’s way of showing what it thinks they like and pushing them to go watch it. In that way, it’s a control that the industry has over men without the latter even getting aware of it. But with more and more women becoming independent and financially so, there is room for questioning these practices and for change,” she explains. It took 2001 and a choice combination of artistes for lyricist Thamarai to voice out a woman’s lust for her very attractive partner in Minnale’s Vaseegara.
Bringing in balance
Perhaps more women in the industry are the key to bringing in balance? But not just any women but those equipped with the idea to further the development that’s in place, emphasises Uma. “There’s a proverb in Marathi that says only the one wearing the slippers knows where it bites. So there will be a change when women come into the industry as writers and in other roles. But not all women can contribute to this. It depends on the kind of work they do. If writers are able to truly understand women (and the characters), keeping in mind the history behind them, and write for/about them, it will turn outright. That way, men can be seen doing the same work too. After all, the movies about women that we celebrate were not all made by women,” she points out.
Changing narratives
Madhan, on his part, says he avoids working in films that unduly make the narrative all about the man. “It’s okay if the story naturally revolves around the man. But now it happens because the movie is made for the hero, keeping in mind that he has a huge fan base and there’s plenty of business there. I’d rather work in movies that give equal importance to its women and pay attention to good characterisation,” he explains. On the other hand, he also notes that he looks forward to a world that is less restrictive. The Sangam literature from 3,000 years ago wouldn’t be accepted the same if they were to be written now, he adds. Who can tell what the next 3,000 years would deem appropriate?
Source: The New Indian Express