KARNAN

 I've always wondered how Karnan would have looked like. And in my limited imagination I've tried too many futile attempts to manifest a tiny facet of the persona of this great character. It would have been my magnum opus if it had been a worthy failure, it wasn't even close. So, I left it to the great minds to perceive and portray. In the many conversations with the insta artists, I've had mentioned about Karna and my longing wish to see him in your figment of imagination. And I have been waiting patiently ever since.

Mari Selvaraj has proved from Pariyerum Perumal that he is the artist who calls out your inner hidden casteist "naughtiness" that lie pampered by privilege. Dormant as it may, but never dead in spirit. One rain of misfortune and it pops out like a generation old banyan tree with heads hanging down from its branches. I felt it in every moment in Pariyerum Perumal and it pricked me. But by the time Karnan came out, I had walked a distance I couldn't bridge the decades before. It is not just educating, it is eye opening to the person who you are and the society you are part of. Strange as it may, you find these things you never expect them to be. Casteism, Patriarchy or Misogyny.

And there is no sense of continuity or stability in how casteism works, it doesn't have a single formula. It differs from people to people, region to region and caste to caste. Some has issue with another caste, sometimes everyone has issue with a caste that lies down at the pecking order. The Varna system draws the picture differently across it's flawed canvas. And some colours don't find it's place on it all, outside the colour palette they lie untouched and without a due chance of being ever been used. Selvaraj talks about the stories of people who the society doesn't even recognise to be "people". Their stories of asking a fair chance to be treated as humans, forget being equals.

In a film that depicts a caste centric storyline, what stands out from the very second is its title and the names of the character. How beautiful it is! The total act of revolution against the status quo begins there. In another recent release by Madonne Ashwin, you can see a similar instance, how a barber who has no name but is often referred as Ilicha Vaayan(supposedly a curse) becomes Nelson Mandela. How defiant it is! But it does shows how we have been institutionalised to believe that even names has its place. Take your name away from you, you take the man/woman out of you.

When Khaleesi Daenerys Targaryen asks her army commander his name, you see a glimpse of that.

"What's your name?"

"Grey Worm"

The masters of Essos, while taking in the Unsullied as slaves they give them names like Grey Worm, Red Flea, Black Rat.

Selvaraj elevates that another level in a particular sequence and throws out burning coal into the minds of the people.

"What's your name?"

"Kannapiran"

"What's your father's name?"

"Kandaiah"

"When Kandaiah's son can be named Kannapiran, why can't Maadasamy's son be named Karnan?"

Your name, your attire, your posture everything has to be aligned with the caste you are born to, or else your very existence is seen as an act of resistance. Something which isn't forgivable.

Even in an intricate narrative, the story flows through a passive love story. The nuanced performances of both artists have brought about the romance and struggles with ease. And what pleased me the most in the parallel storyline Selvaraj has drawn for us, Draupadi is indeed Karna's. It is beyond beautiful that the characters find in each others arms. What Vyasa couldn't do in Mahabharata, Selvaraj does in his world where he breaks the barriers. And here in Karna's arms, she has no fear of humiliation or exile.

A simple plea for having a basic need of a bus stop is the main thread, and the story develops around its periphery. In a cultural, religious canvas the main thread grows into the minds of the viewers with ease. And in their plea which later became their fight they lost many lives, yet I don't feel that it was not their sacrifice that won them their freedom. A bus that never stopped for an injured kid on the road, a bus which never stopped for a pregnant lady on the road: stopped, at the first instance of revolution. How a broken rear glass was worth more than lives is the real question! Not even the sacrifice of Yaman was pleasing for the gods. It was the very act of dissent that became a revolution, the established regime couldn't just brush off led to their victory. The question should be, Should the people resort to civil mutiny to get their basic needs? Or will democracy and constitution be tied by the ropes of caste, religion, patriarchy, misogyny, misgovernance forever.

Who will untie the galloping mule?

Who will burn its ropes to ashes?

Who are thee?

Who stands in her way

Flee away, flee away.

For who are thee to tie her again!

Caste still rule our social life and quite visibly sometimes. And once what was in Hindu Varna system has now spread its branches to other religions too. People find it convenient to separate people based on different ideologies. Who has instilled in us this differentiation is quite baffling! Some people have raised their voice against this stigma and while some others are conditioned by it. The maid at our home, whom I fondly call aunty. She is not my aunt, but I've known her all my life and I haven't quite able to get her to use a same plate we are using. Every dining set has six plates, and we are just three, still she chose to eat from a steel plate. Why? I've asked her, she just smiles. Social conditioning has taught that it is okay. The road ahead is long and full of perils, but have we decided to walk that path?

I waited patiently for that image to be found. And I found my Karnan incarnated in a human form on my television screen, wearing a striped shirt and mundu, riding a horse with a sword in his hand. Gallop away my Karna, for I've found you.