Anirudh Harshavardhan

Representation of faith in film

Some of the earlier narrative films were faith-based stories, such as France’s La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc. Even in the era of silent films in India, it seemed a lucrative enterprise to produce films steeped in faith-based stories and storytelling, such as Raja Harishchandra, Keechaka Vadanam, Vigathakumaran, Sant Tukaram, etc. This of course saw more popular reincarnations upon the arrival of sound.

Films have been made which are representations of religious ideas, themes, concepts, saints and scholars, etc. These narratives provide rich source material for filmmakers of which there are many. Some films, which take the narrative directly from the religion on which they are based, are not necessarily ”faithful” representations, and possess some embellishment on grounds of artistic liberty.

There are also films which develop or explore religious tenets, and are based within the religious community, or explore ideas of these communities. However, owing to poetic or artistic license, the members of these faiths may not easily recognise the religions in the ways that they are portrayed. Other films rely on narrative coherence upon pre-existing concepts that originated within, and are given meaning by, religious communities, but in their portrayal may have little to do with those contexts. They may use religious allegories to bolster their protagonist’s actions and choices, or may tackle pre-existing notions of religious, ethical and moral values in an engaging and entertaining manner.

Representation of rape in film

Cinema is one of the many institutions that generates discourses on rape. But there is something to be said about the way in which the camera approaches the subject of pain and torment, and whether or not it transforms the deeply personal testimony into something of a showcase. Aside from making a spectacle of the event or experience, the testimony, when made, is contradicted. Even the possibility of the occurrence of pain is denied. Comments such as “She wanted it,” or “She is of loose morals,” is more prevalent than any sort of empathy or vicarious anguish.

The feminine subject of violation is more preferable as something visible: an object rather than as a speaking subject; a spectacle rather than speech; an ideological lever rather than material testimony. As a result, what we get is a subjective interpretation that has been hollowed of experience – a narrative that is devoid of the raped subject’s interiority and subjectivity. Rather than being given a privileged status, the woman’s critical narrative is mostly either absent or distorted or rejected. What takes its place is a set of discourses – on sexual ownership and propriety – that corroborate the logic that led to the rape in the first place.

Feminism, patriarchy and the male gaze

Feminism is a set of political and social ideologies which deals with graded inequalities and disparities in the treatment of women in society. It challenges the male dominated structures in the world’s many societies, from suffrage and representation, to equality in payment and salaries, to misogyny inherent in the household. The tenets of feminism campaign for equal human rights be conferred to both men and women.

Patriarchy is a system wherein the men of the society hold power and exert dominance in the fields of politics, authority, privilege and property. A patrilineal society is one where property and titles are passed down to the male members of the family. A patriarchal ideology attributes itself to inherent natural differences between men and women. Sociologists tend to see patriarchy not as an outcome of innate differences between the sexes but as a social product.

Historically, patriarchy has manifested itself in the economic, social, legal, political and religious structures of a great many cultures. Even if not explicit, most contemporary societies are, in practice, patriarchal.

The term ‘male gaze’ was first coined by feminist theorist and film critic, Laura Mulvey, to put forth the idea of the depiction of women in works of literature and visual art as sexual objects of consumption, for the purpose of the male viewer’s pleasure. There are three perspectives to this, namely that of the man behind the camera, the male characters within the representation of the film or literature or other visual art, and that of the spectator viewing the work of art. The term ‘scopophilia’ is also used, and is defined as the aesthetic and/or sexual pleasure derived from looking at someone or something.

As a response and debate to this term, the term ‘female gaze’ was coined, which represents the gaze of the female in such works of visual art and literature.

In many senses, Shekhar Kapur’s 1994 film Bandit Queen is considered a film about gaze and perception. Shekhar Kapur uses the camera complexly, ambiguously rich, sometimes clashing colours suffuse stark, minimalized scenes;  bare stretches of the Chambal ravines, unembellished village huts, shots of skeletal bridges towering over minuscule figures.

For instance, soon after their first meeting, when Vikram Mallah comes to watch Phoolan bathing at the river, the shot-reverse-shot sequence reveals Vikram’s gaze as containing not just Phoolan but the mammoth pillars of the railway bridge, while Phoolan’s view of him is partially obscured by the rocks he is standing behind. One reason for this holding back could be to affect objectivity, to maintain the sense that the camera’s gaze is impartial, unwilling to distort the ‘truth’ even slightly by a full display of its “object.”

The narrative, discursive and cinematic devices that are routinely deployed in the representation of rape manifest the importance of making women be seen, but at the same time silence them and absent their subjectivities. Phoolan Devi is often spoken of as the reincarnation of bloodthirsty Kali, especially after Mallah institutes her as the goddess. On the one hand, she is feminine, vulnerable and prone to violation, and on the other, she is the indomitable Woman who cannot be destroyed – because the violence makes her a woman.

Masculine violence seems easier to explain: it is unproblematically self-evident. Men rape, brutalise, plunder, kill and plot as if born with the will and talent to do so.
Female violence needs not just explanation, but a sexualised one in order to make it both feminine and comprehensible.

Rape culture and goddess worship in India

According to the National Crime Records Bureau, rape is the fourth most common crime against women in India. Every year, tens of thousands of cases are reported, many of them unsolved, and even more unreported. Over the past decade (2010 -2020) the reportage of rapes in mainstream media has drawn to the public’s attention the seriousness and heinousness of these crimes, paving way to reforms in the penal code. Even so, the statistics of these crimes are too alarming to ignore.

The cases that particularly caused public uproar were the 2012 Nirbhaya case, the rape of a minor in Unnao in 2017, and in 2019 the rape and immolation of a Hyderabad-based veterinarian. The heinousness and manner of these rapes showcase a rape culture in India that is seemingly unfazed by any reformation in penal codes. This in a country where a majority of Hindus worship a mother goddess in her many local forms all over the country. The worship of a myriad forms of the goddess is meaningful to many across India, but is it a practice that is empowering to women? Not if you look at the crime statistics.

In September 2013, Indian advertising agency Taproot produced a campaign titled, ‘Abused Goddesses,’ recreating images of Hindu goddesses with black eyes and bruised faces. The posters highlighted the contrast between deity worship and the treatment of girls and women in modern-day India, a country with a high rate of female infanticide rate and a seemingly never ceasing culture of rape, abuse and misogyny.

Joyce Burkhalter Flueckiger, professor of religion and author of ‘When the World Becomes Female,’ explains: “Where do we get the idea that because there are goddesses, women will have higher status? It’s a big assumption about the relationship between human and divine worlds.”

An age-old tradition in India and Nepal enforces this relationship and carefully picks prepubescent girls as incarnations of a goddess. In India, the girl, or ‘Kumari,’ is usually worshipped for a day, whereas in Nepal, where goddess worship is also prevalent, she is isolated from society, taking her daily seat at the temple to be worshipped by locals as well as royalty. Once she reaches puberty, another chosen (prepubescent) girl replaces her. In yet another practice prevalent in Southern India since time immemorial, the devadasi practise, young girls are given as offerings to an incarnation of the goddess known as Yellamma. They are then unable to marry owing to their religious status and forced into prostitution. It is seen as a privilege by those who participate.

“Goddesses are worshipped merely as a ritual but in reality, women are generally never seen as their earthly representations,” says Usha Vishwakarma, who leads a teenage girls’ martial arts group in Lucknow, known as the Red Brigade. They patrol the streets at night, warding off men who are seen to be harassing women. “It is not inspiration or motivation that we look for. Sheer frustration from being ill-treated by men and unsympathetic responses from family drive us to rebel and make conditions better for ourselves.”

Such a singular approach cannot be applied in a context as diverse and layered as that of India. Therefore, many organisations resort to adopting secular methods. A myriad gods and goddesses are worshipped in India along with their regional variations and incarnations. The praise of deity worship can be empowering, but it can also be used to oppress. Ultimately, it comes down to engaging with communities that will discourage outdated, patriarchal and fundamentally unequal practices that fool girls into believing that they are not worthy of the same reverence bestowed on a goddess.

The Languages of Rape: Gender Biases

Rape is considered ‘un-nameable.’ It is in fact the investment in rape and its converse — legal sex — that are unspoken. For example, rape as an issue cannot arise when “ownership” is legally established (as in marriage). It is a sign of ‘improper’ exchange while “marriage is the archetype of exchange.” The ingenious and perilous denial of semantic stability in language especially when it comes to women (‘no’ means ‘yes’) mystifies the violence of rape and implicates the woman in it.

Pleasure in the rape is generated not through an ideological approbation of rape (it remains bad) but through a patriarchal affirmation of masculine pleasure that is premised on women’s pain. The apparent contradiction (rape is wrong) is accompanied by the reason why it is wrong – because it constitutes improper exchange and not because it is a violation or because it is painful.

Monique Plaza in 1981 argued that men are raped as women. They are powerless, and therefore “rapeable”, and the men who have been raped are shown dealing with it in a non-feminine way. Instances of the rape of men in film is made to be desentisized through humor, or by the casual view and acceptance of the fact that men get raped in prisons.

It is necessary to note that while men may be ‘raped as women’ insofar as they are at that moment relatively powerless, they are also raped as men, because the acknowledgement of their sex and gender is a necessary part of the rapist’s assertion of power. Men are raped as men who must be feminised. The rape is often punitive, consolidating the suggestion that femininity is punishment.

Loss of manhood is not considered a loss of purity, the devolving shame in both cases are of different order. A man rediscovers his masculinity with an act like a killing spree but a female’s loss of purity cannot be recuperated or returned. The gender subjectivity that is institutionalized in film disallows women agency of recovery, whereby the importance of rape may be denied and forgotten. It remains and is retained as a fetish of a masculine imagination of it. When detached from subjectivity and selfhood, rape is no more about the personal anguish of a violated self, but is reinforced into a narrative prop in which the moving force is usually male desire.

Faith

In a religious context, one defines faith as trust or confidence in systems of religious belief. Among those who believe, faith tends to be an exercise in confidence based on a system of propositions and tenets that are held as truths. Among those who do not believe, faith tends to be an exercise steeped in skepticism, or belief without evidence of a higher power. Over the millennia of humankind’s inhabitation on earth, many faiths, beliefs and religions have been the basis of billions of people’s daily conduct. The varied religions today include Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Sikhism, Baha’i, Buddhism, Jainism, and the context used in this work – Hinduism.

Hinduism is itself a cornucopia of belief systems and a thorough understanding of it requires an open world view, or one at least devoid of skepticism. Some even contest that the term Hinduism as a faith is a western ideal imposed on an entire culture so that it might be easier to understand the subcontinent under a large umbrella term; stating that being Hindu is not merely worshipping a diverse pantheon, or a label one might attach to those east and south of  the river Indus (‘Sindhu’ gives rise to ‘Indus,’ which gives rise to ‘Indu’ or ‘Hindu’), but a set of animist beliefs and cultural practices that are deeply ingrained in the daily minutiae of many in the Indian Subcontinent.

In Hinduism, God, as an idea, can be nirguna (without form) or saguna (with form). Any representation of any form of God is bound to be imperfect, since it is nearly impossible to represent the idea of such an omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent entity in an image.

“If God is visualised as a plant, then it excludes animals and minerals. If God is visualised as human, it excludes plants and animals. If human, should it be man or woman or a combination of both? For Hindus, God, who is never limited to one form, is expressed through plants, animals, minerals, humans (male and female) and even forms that combine various beings.”

 For most Hindus, God is best embodied in the form of a trifecta of couples: Brahma, the creator, and his consort Saraswati; Vishnu, the sustainer, and his consort Lakshmi; and Shiva, the destroyer, and his consort, Shakti. Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu represent the male trinity in the Hindu pantheon. Brahma, with four heads and a set of scriptures, looks like a priest; Vishnu, with four arms brandishing a conch-shell, disc, mace and lotus in each hand, looks like a king; while Shiva, with his matted hair, marks of ash, animal skin for garb, and a trident, looks like a mendicant or vagrant.

The female trinity in the Hindu pantheon comprise Lakshmi, Saraswati and Shakti, who embody wealth, knowledge and power, respectively. Lakshmi, usually dressed in red, holds a pot which signifies bounty; Saraswati, usually clad in white holds a lute and a set of scriptures; while a fierce-looking Shakti holds weapons and rides a lion.

If one observes these representations, it is seen that the male trinity is associated with verbs, i.e., creating, sustaining, and destroying. The female trinity, on the other hand, is associated with nouns, i.e., knowledge, wealth, power. The Gods are doing, that is to say they can create, sustain or destroy. The Goddesses are passive. Wealth, knowledge and power can be created, sustained or destroyed.

“ One has to ask the question at this point – is the gender of the image the ‘signifier’ or the ‘signified’? Must we focus on the form of the symbol (the gender) or the idea being symbolised through them? If we focus on the form and assume that the signifier (form) and the signified (idea) are the same, then it means that the image is a patriarchal one, telling us that men are active subjects – the ones who do things; while women are passive objects – the ones to whom things are done. But such interpretations satisfy only feminist, patriarchal and socialist ideology based on binaries – male/ female, powerful/powerless, victim/victimiser, master/servant. ”

An alternate way of seeing these images would be to focus on the idea behind these forms. We then realise that the male trinity represents the individual, the observer, the one who acts, senses and responds. We create, sustain and destroy, in spite of our sexes or assigned genders. The female trinity then represents the world created by mind and matter, a subjective world of thoughts, emotions and sensations. We can create, sustain or destroy wealth, knowledge and power. We can use, abuse or misuse wealth, knowledge and power.

Another question is raised – why is the male form used for a spiritual subject while the female form is used for a material object? Material reality has form and is hence measurable and containable, while spiritual reality is formless, immeasurable and uncontainable. The human male physiology, for example, creates life outside itself. On the other hand, life is created within the human female’s body. Thus the female form best represents the container, the source of all things material. The woman becomes the symbol of material reality, making man the symbol of spiritual reality.

Unfortunately, this understanding has long since become corrupted in modern societies, and representations have become reality. Rather than saying that women represent material reality, and that men represent spiritual reality, we say that women are material reality and men are spiritual reality. This creates political and ideological conflicts and – as is the nature of things today – controversy.

Gender bias in temples

Temples did not always exist in India. Before temples, people worshipped rocks, rivers, or the stars. So, what prompted the need for such grandiose places of worship?

The Kumbh Mela is an example of a Hindu ritual that does not involve any artificial structure. The temples of Kamakhya in Assam or Vaishnodevi in Jammu reveal temples which are essentially structures built around a set of very simple natural rock formations. The structure then is the boundary that defines the sacred space around something very organic and natural.

This creation of boundaries is the essence of patriarchy, for with boundaries come divisions and hierarchies that bolster the positions of the privileged. The physical boundaries represent psychological boundaries that emerged long ago, before structures, gods and goddesses – when humanity emerged from the animal kingdom and began to seek meaning.

Every village of India is associated with local deities – grama-devis and grama-devas, often classified as fertility goddesses and guardian gods. The female divine, devi, provides and the male divine, deva, protects. In ashrams of modern-day gurus, male sanyasis are called ‘swami’ or master, while female sanyasis are called ‘maa’ or mother, thus endorsing the traditional roles of man as protector and proprietor and woman as procreator and provider.

Wealth, knowledge and power do not discriminate between the rich and the poor, the beautiful and the ugly, the upper classes and the lower classes. The Goddess does not discriminate, but represents an absence of judgement. The capacity to judge is embodied in male forms. God creates, sustains and destroys society and is the fountainhead of values, morality and ethics. But the Goddess can be measured – the measuring scales are created, sustained and destroyed by God. The Goddess is matter and energy – her various forms are created, sustained and destroyed by those who observe her.

This writing has been compiled out of excerpts from a paper I had written in 2020. It is a companion piece to my short film, which was the final project in my undergraduate program at St Joseph’s College (Autonomous), Bengaluru.

If you wish to read the entire paper, please feel free to reach out to me!