The entire Hindi movie that has been uploaded by someone else but without English subtitles to YouTube is available sequentially embedded within my customized playlist below and these clips are also available for widescreen viewing directly on YouTube. You can also watch entire movie with English subtitles for free in low bandwidth small screen format at the Rajshree Productions download site (high bandwidth download  costs $9.99).

Before even introducing these musings in the light of Abhinava's aesthetics of love, I would urge readers—particularly those who feel that their appreciation of Swades has been sufficiently enhanced by my labors—to take the resolve to purchase the 2-DVD set of the movie as a personal endorsement of Ashutosh Gowarikar's creative vision, and to encourage him to produce even more brilliant works of art that are as delightful as they are illuminating and inspiring. The arguments being made, often directly by Gîtâ herself, will be even more persuasive when you hover the mouse-cursor over her standalone still frames. As for the embedded YouTube clips (with English subtitles) below, I uploaded them under the sort of 'fair-use' policy that typically governs scholarly citations serving as illustrations to make a theoretical point: they also constitute in themselves an interpretative narrative of the (love-) gaze (nazar) at the aesthetic core of Swades. Each clip begins and ends with a meditative pause on a still frame (typically of Gâyatrî's eyes) that has been carefully extracted from the enclosed animated interaction. These parenthetical frames have been captioned with ambiguous and suggestive queries that serve to highlight the extent to which the movie itself, whether consciously or not, is making so many of the fundamental psychological and even 'metaphysical' claims that I am advancing in this philosophical review. Please feel free to post your well-considered comments (subject to approval) on (my interpretation here of) the corresponding video-clip directly at YouTube:

No-nonsense  (Bollywood?) types for whom "seeing is believing" may prefer to enjoy the visual feast of (seeing the world through) Gîtâ's eyes by first of all reviewing in sequence my close-captioned sequence of subtitled video-clips (playlist above), faithful to the movie timeline, of episodes that raise the various questions that this essay attempts to explore if not definitively answer. More philosophical  (neo-Vedantic?) types for whom "everything is illusion" may prefer to engage the theoretical issues before evaluating for themselves how she responds to them on behalf of not just director Gowarikar but also against the backdrop of Indian aesthetic sensibility. This extended multimedia review, with links to movie clips at YouTube from Ashutosh Gowarikar's Swades, was intended as a major contribution to an ongoing dialogue on the complex relationship between love (shrngâra), devotion (bhakti), and (community) service (sevâ), from the perspective of Abhinavagupta's aesthetics of rasa.  I have inserted introductory comments to contextualize some of the posts. The original message (of 8th November 2007) interpreting this narrative of the gaze has been greatly amplified and revised in the light of the subsequent posts below, the substance of which have been left largely intact (other than for subsequent copy-editing). Having decided to make this monologue available to the public, I would like to offer a concise summary—a conceptual grid as it were—of the underlying architecture of the various perspectives developed and woven together in this cascade of musings on apparently disparate topics:

Eros (shrngâra), the courtship of the eyes is so central to the development and enjoyment of romantic love because they are not simply objects of desire like so many other physical features, but windows into the likewise subjective desire of the other for oneself.

Devotion (bhakti), falling in love with My reflection:

Service (sevâ), becoming the Other:

Bollywood, Abhinava's aesthetics, and Swades:

• Related digests and essays at svAbhinava:
• "The waves surge, O Krishna!" - from Abhinavagupta to Bollywood: music, rasa, ecstasy (svAbhinava dialogue)
• Love (shrngâra), devotion (bhakti), and (community) service (sevâ) in Hindu aesthetics (svAbhinava dialogue)
• Hindu, Indian, or South Asian? religious, national, and cultural identity for NRIs and stay-behinds (desis)
• Râmâyana in South-East Asian traditions: culture, nationalism, and religion
• "The Politics of Iconophilia: Idolatry, Iconoclasm, and the problem of representing God" - svAbhinava dialogue
• Resonance and suggestion (dhvani) in Hinduism: the "jingling of the anklets" (Pâyal kî jhankâr)

The specific relevance of each of the items above is also pointed out in the comments (in red) introducing the subsequent posts below.

Index to posts below within “The Science of Love” digest:

• "The science of love: look into the eyes" of Gîtâ (Gâyatrî Joshi) in the 'homeland' (Swades) [08 Nov 07]
• Love (shrngâra), devotion (bhakti), and (community) service (sevâ) in Swades ('homeland') - my footnote to Abhinava's aesthetics [09 Nov 07]
• Between Gayatri's Bollywood persona and Sîtâ's devotion to Râm (-râjya): Gîtâ's lesson in the "science of love" in Swades  [10 Nov 07]
• "US loses wattage to China in Iraq" (Dmitry Shlapentokh) - are we witnessing a de-'Americanization' of global politics? [12 Nov 07]
•  Good taste, bad taste, 'Hindu' taste: caste segregation, transgressive modernity, and the healing power of Bollywood in Swades [21 Nov 07]
• "This land of yours is your motherland" (Yeh jo des hai tera - A. R. Rehman's devotion to Swades) [23 Nov 07]
• Swades: from the courtship of the eyes (shrngâra) to falling in love with My reflection (bhakti) [26 Nov 07]
• Languid women âlasya-kanyâ) exhibiting their natural self: is the Hindu God the ultimate Voyeur? [02 Dec 07]
• Enjoying the plight of helpless women: should Hindu gods be prosecuted for sexual harassment? [in-the-works]
• Foreign nostalgia for the Indian motherland and Freud's oceanic feeling: where is 'home' in Swades? [in-the-works]

[I have subsequently edited and amplified the first post below to further clarify the, otherwise easy-to-miss, internal correspondences and wider resonances of the artistic details of the movie; click the link to the Abhinava forum archive for the original post, which had links to YouTube instead of embedded video clips-  SV]

“Hesitating to act because the whole vision might not be achieved, or because others do not yet share it, is an attitude that only hinders progress.”

Citation from Mohandas K. Gandhi that opens the movie, Swades,, whose main protagonist is likewise named Mohan

 

Good raga, but why girls on the picture? If he says yar then it is not Girl but Allah. Know it before you do something please. All Raga and Ghazal is related to Allah (or Eshq majaz) and not this world stupid girls.

Since he can't put Allah on the video, why not God's beautiful creatures :)

Dude, we are talking about Awyal's poems. We cannot add half naked women with them... Oh, seeing God in them is also funny because what will be the next step? Seeing God in porn movies? Come on dega!!!

Loser. You dont even understand his comment. Try to understand, and respond after that!

Loser? why that? anything against Quraan is not accepted by Awliya (Hafiz saheb, Bedil Saheb)... And putting half naked female with those holy words is just [not? - SV] acceptable... no too much half naked women in this video, but what other video's... BTW, it is my opinion, please write your opinion and don't attack on a person by saying that he is a loser :) OK?

[Could someone translate the exchange of Arabic (?) citations in the subsequent dialogue left out here? - SV]

 Viewer comments on the (un-) veiled bright-eyed women boldly gazing out from
Ustad Naim Nazary, eminent Afghan classical singer of the Patiala Gharana, rendering Darbari Kanada (YouTube)

The last verse, also from Amaru, is cited by Abhinava in his Locana, as an example of the suggestion of the “cessation of a transitory emotion” (bhâva-prazama). An exceptional delight is offered by the skilful presentation of the fading away of a passing mood, and that is why it is privileged as a separate category. According to Abhinava, the verse under discussion captures the subsiding of pride having jealous resentment (sulking) as its essence. But the same verse is again analyzed by Abhinava in his Abhinavabhâratî to show how vipralambha [love-in-separation] and sambhoga [love-in-union] are not mutually exclusive but each necessarily includes the other. His remarks, if their implications are drawn out, will already permit the critically attentive reader to appreciate why hâsya [humor] is an inevitable ancillary of sambhoga-zRngâra. “Both these conditions (sambhoga and vipralambha) are pervaded by love (rati), in the form of the mutual bond of affection, which on being [<275-276>] relished becomes zRngâra…. This is why in sambhoga there is the fear of the possibility of separation (vipralambha) and vipralambha too is penetrated by the imaginative desire for union (sambhoga). Such is the nature of zRngâra. Where there is rati in the form of the bond of mutual affection, it includes within itself longing, jealousy, exile [as when the captive Sîtâ, confined under the Ashoka tree in Râvana's Lankâ, pines for Râma  - SV], and other conditions. Hence terms like ‘sambhoga-zRngâra’ are used figuratively, by extension even when there is no sexual union. That is why it is the blending of these two conditions that is indeed truly of supreme aesthetic appeal. As in:

Lying together in the bed
They kept a sullen silence grim,
Faces averted and suffocating with pride
Though hearts relented within,
And not a word to her he said
And she refused to speak to him.
But glances chance to interlace:
A moment’s pause, and both thereafter
Forget resentment and..........
             dissolving in a gale of laughter
                                  ...........embrace!

[Amaru-shataka no. 21]

Here there is the supreme experience of rasa in the form of the blending of ‘separation-due-to-jealousy’ and union, produced by determinants, consequents and transitory emotions pertaining to both (âzrayas) but having a single essence…. Like the performance of bath, etc., (the representation of mere) sexual union (bhoga) is [<276-277>] devoid of any rasa." [direct citation from Abhinava]

Sunthar V., "The role of hâsya (humor) in zrngâra (the erotic sentiment)," Abhinavagupta's Conception of Humor (PhD thesis, 1983)

It may seem obvious to every starry-eyed lover but psychologists have now proved it to be true – if you want someone to find you attractive, look them in the face and smile. A strong jaw for men, high cheek-bones in women, a perfectly-shaped nose or unblemished skin may be the physical signs of sexual attractiveness, but it is the gaze of the eyes that really counts. Psychologists have shown for the first time that you are more likely to find a happy-looking face that looks directly at you sexually attractive than the equally smiling face of someone who is averting their eyes. The findings support the theory that both men and women use the direction of a person's gaze as a signal of whether that person finds you interesting enough to look you directly in the face – and that sign of interest is, in itself, seen as attractive to the observer. [...]  "They are assessing who is likely to like them. It's not so much about holding eye contact with a member of the opposite sex, it's about looking at someone who you are interested in," he said. "It is all part of an ancient need to concentrate one's limited courting resources on potential mates who are realistically interested in you. "It wouldn't pay me, for instance, to spend time and effort on chasing supermodels but it would pay me to concentrate on women who smile at me in the street," he explained. [...] This shows both men and women prefer faces of people who seem to like them and that attractiveness is not just about physical beauty. "It's the first demonstration to show people's preferences for being looked at depends on the emotional state of the person who is doing the looking, as well as their sex," Dr Jones said. "It makes common sense, but it's the first time it's been shown. What we've shown is that people seem to like someone who likes them – based on the direction of their gaze – and it's particularly true of the opposite sex," he said.

Steve Connor, "The science of love: look into the eyes" (07 Nov 2007), The Independent

Rasa is therefore not simply an emotional response to artistic stimuli but the inner organizing principle of a distinct mode of apperception (anuvyavasâya-vizeSa), their raison d’être, and very meaning. This ‘identification’ (tanmayî-bhavana) is so complete that we seem to be experiencing the same emotion without any distinction of self and other. This is precisely why our whole-hearted enjoyment of Sîtâ’s beauty through the eyes of Lord Râma is no stigma to Indian aesthetics. Considering the real-life infatuation that actors (Amitabh Bacchan, M.G. Ramachandran, now Shahrukh Khan) and actresses (Aishwarya Rai and, more recently, Gayatri Joshi in Swades) can evoke in their fans, it is worth noting that the shared enjoyment of the heroine (nâyikâ), even vicariously in theater, posed a dilemma to the Indian ethical consciousness. This ingenious concept of tanmayîbhavana removes the moral compunction even while sanctioning the unreserved sensuous delight. [ad note #12] [...] Abhinava’s esoteric treatment of eros (kâma) might best explain king Bhoja’s - he was himself a contemporary Tântrika - public elevation of shrngâra to the supreme rasa from which not only all the others but even the worldly passions emerge, and around which are centered all ego-centric human pursuits (of the life-goals). What Bhoja’s great literary synthesis, the Shrngâra-Prakâsha attempts might be understood as a sort of Hindu‘psychoanalysis’ - but from the perspective of a thoroughly aestheticized’ sexuality - that not only embraces morality and love (prema) but equates eros with the (self-aware and synthesizing) ego-function(aham-kâra),whereas Freud<’s materialism posits a polar opposition between libidinous instinct (id) and individual adaptation. [note #64]

Sunthar V., "Towards an Integral Appreciation of Abhinava’s aesthetics of Rasa" (Evam, 2006)

When Elizabeth and I saw Swades together in Paris, just after its release in December 2004 (and as I was working on the above essay on Abhinava's aesthetics), I was thrilled not only by the 'idealistic' theme of a successful NRI (Shâhrukh Khan as Mohan Bhargava), a valued project manager at NASA, returning to (village) India to serve (sevâ) his people for good, but also by the parallel representation of the neglected motherland by his doting (but since long abandoned) foster-mother (Kâveri-amma) and of her concealed charms by the latter's adopted school-teacher 'daughter' (Gîtâ played by Gâyatrî Joshi). Though I was thoroughly charmed by Gâyatrî's beautiful depiction of a self-liberating Indian womanhood, it's only just recently, upon reviewing, on YouTube, various sequences (and juxtaposing the clips of thematically and psychologically related scenes that are widely separated on the timeline) that I realized the extent to which I had been, perhaps unconsciously, hypnotized by her (often scornful) gaze. It's relevant to note, in this context, that director Ashutosh Gowarikar (of Lagaan fame) had been vainly auditioning many (would-be) actresses as prospects for Gîtâ's role, before he happened to recall having met Gâyatrî at a party. Apparently, he had retained something of that innocent encounter, the aesthetic possibilities of which did not occur to him immediately, in much the same way that we come to appreciate Swades for all that it is only after having repeatedly looked at, and through, Gîtâ's eyes. No doubt, the sentimental ruse intended by (Gowarikar's artistry) to impress upon us all his own 'patriotic' message: he had driven a stake through my heart without my even realizing it! Is this extended movie review no more than an attempt to dislodge the sweet poison?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swades

http://www.planetbollywood.com/Film/Swades/

Returning to India is above all to be (re-) immersed in an intangible sensibility that is almost impossible to define in abstract terms or to describe meaningfully. Though best expressed through interpersonal relations that may be captured on the screen, this aesthetic quality needs commentary to be properly appreciated both by foreigners, who cannot help remarking its strangeness without being able to comprehend it, and also by Indians, who take it so much for granted that they no longer even notice its uniqueness. The initial encounter of the opposite sexes—with Gîtâ—in the Delhi bookshop is in fact embedded within the 'joking relationship' of the owner Rahul and his NRI friend Mohan that captures the sort of 'bonhomie' that characterizes interactions among male Indian friends. On the face of it, they are communicating quite intelligibly about the most immediate, mundane, and pragmatic business: here's a map where you should be able to locate Caranpur, please mind the sales counter while I rush off to the bank to secure a loan for my business, no problem, how come you've left the counter unattended, of course I'll find you a caravan, etc. But if we listen to what they are actually saying in Hindi (not translated literally in the subtitles), they seem to be talking plain nonsense: "this (map) will cost (you) 150 rupees" [Rahul]; "That's OK, Don't pay me" [Mohan]; "Are you going to rob the bank?" [Mohan]; "No, please mind the counter" [Rahul]; "I'll just sit there" [Mohan];  "Fit" [Rahul]; "Fit" [Mohan] "Your first day, and you're already sick of the job?" [Rahul]; "You've made a profit (the 50 rupees change that Gîtâ didn't wait to collect) for the company on your very first day...you've got the job!" [Rahul]; OK OK Mr. NRI, you'll have your caravan, don't worry" [Rahul]. Obviously, something else is being communicated than information through the rather idiosyncratic Indian humor, which is that I enjoy your company enough to tease and be teased. Such silly good-natured bantering (Indian women have developed their own styles of such, sometimes merciless, teasing  as may be also seen in Bollywood movies), which is one of the first things that struck me about Indians (as opposed to Malaysians), especially while travelling in the company of complete strangers on trains, should alert us that the embedded initial encounter between Mohan and Gîtâ might herald an implicit treatise on what's so different about the romantic sensibility in Indian culture.

Gâyatrî's (intelligent and) riveting gaze is like a dagger as Mohan learns, to his great discomfiture, at the very first ('accidental') encounter in a Delhi bookshop with the childhood playmate whom he (unlike her) otherwise does not recognize:

Note that Gîtâ is an intimidating math wiz, who can crunch out the numbers before you can even punch them into the calculator.

Their entire interaction in the village may be summed up as a recurring tussle between Mohan's desire to take Kaveriamma back with him (from all this misery) to the US and Gîtâ's equally stubborn determination to ensure that this 'traitorous non-returning Indian' (NRI!) 'returns' empty-handed. Is it preferable to have an attractive and intelligent woman grace you with a scornful look or to watch her avert her gaze and reserve her affectionate attention for others...you decide:

He gets the cold-shoulder and is quickly shown the door when he intrudes into her classroom 'to be 'formally' introduced by her kid brother...). Trips her into dropping her book like the earlier 'oaf' did in the bookshop, all the more irritating as she has lost her bet with Kaveriamma that this NRI 'son' would never return...)

Though Gîtâ welcomes Mohan as a guest into her village home, she maintains a cool distance that is guarded especially by her reserved and averted gaze. She not only doesn't approve of cocky better-than-thou NRIs, but is also wary of this rival for the affection of Kaveriamma. Mohan retires to spend the first night in his caravan where he continues to work late on his NASA project. He inadvertently notices Gîtâ at her table engrossed in schoolwork unawares that he's peering at her curiously through the window: he catches her disengaging into a pensively languorous mood. A 'voyeuristic' scene that might be construed as a very restrained and sublimated psychological echo of the 'languid maiden' (âlasya-kanyâ) of Sanskrit erotics, who is all the more enchanting for relapsing into a natural unselfconscious state (the director's intention becomes even more apparent upon watching the discarded scene entitled "Mohan Falling in Love" when he wakes up indoors to the soft humming of Gîtâ watering the potted plants after her bath). The friendly acknowledgement from his courteous eyes, when she eventually catches him looking, is rebuffed with a blank indifferent stare before she switches off the light abruptly to spurn his intrusion into her privacy. However, the next morning she can't avoid the intricate eye-communication through which he forces her into unwilling complicity in his bad habit of smoking, as he silently urges her to hide the incriminating cigarette pack from being discovered by Kaveriamma. His thankful nod before being obliged to respond to the rustic amazement at his well-equipped house on wheels is, this time, greeted with a haughty upward turning away of the gaze that seems to be saying: "I'm not impressed, nor even really interested. So why don't you stop making eyes at me once and for all?" After all, even the God with the most 'captivating' (mohana) eyes ever seen still has to make such great efforts and endure much pain before the feminine soul willingly bares all to his relentless gaze!

After the meeting of the village assembly (pañcâyat), Kaveriamma introduces Mohan to the elders (sarpanch) before taking him to the stepped landings (ghâts) to the river where stands the temple to Lord Râma (his brother Lakshmana) and his consort Sîtâ. Mohan is overcome by the tranquil beauty of the setting, and learns that Charanpur is named after the footprints of the divinized couple. This brief scene is significant because of the haunting background flute-rendering of Pal pal hai bhârî ("every moment weighs so heavily...") that (Gîtâ later in her Râmlîlâ role as) Sîtâ will sing to beseech Râma (only to hear Mohan answer her call for the betterment of this rural community). While offering her prayers now with folded hands, the otherwise reserved Gîtâ is indeed intently scrutinizing Mohan's face to fathom his responses to the surroundings, as his new family takes him on an idyllic tour of the rest of the village scenery. This holy site of central significance for it provides the stage for not only their Râmlîla but their final reunion around a wrestling match where Mohan sportingly triumphs over the village Râvana.

Mohan realizes early on that Gîtâ needs to be safely married off, if Kaveriamma is ever to agree to accompany him back alone to the US. The foster mother's attempts to find a suitable match for the idealistic Gîtâ always run into the same hurdle: she's too independent and wants to continue teaching after marriage whereas her orthodox suitors insist that the woman's place is in the home (and, in fact, it would be disgraceful to give others the impression that the husband is unable to support his wife...). The particular episode to which Mohan unwittingly becomes the witness ends with the poor girl, who never loses her dignity, silently watching the backs of the disappointed boy and his parents as they head for the door, the way they came. The exchange of gazes occurs both at the beginning, when the bride-to-be emerges from her room to greet the visitors and sees Mohan dumbstruck by her beauty, and as they leave, when he is trying to discern her state of mind: concealed embarrassment, sympathy for her plight, inklings of other alternatives, who knows?....what matters is the mutual interest in the other's perception (and Mohan's inner exultation at the mismatched attempt):

The post-mortem that follows over lunch is a curious exercise in triangulation: Mohan's evaluation vacillates between endorsing Kaveriamma's sense of loss ("after all, you could have converted him after marriage," etc.) and Gîtâ's foresight ("you can change a man's habits but not his ingrained way of thinking...the next thing you know, he'll be asking for a dowry!"). However, when he latches on to her cue to criticize Indian 'backwardness' in all things as contrasted with innovators like himself ("designing mundane hardware that carries humble bits, bytes, sounds and images across the world sitting in satellites that orbit our little planet earth"), Gîtâ becomes not only defensive of her traditions (paramparâ) and native culture (samskâra) but goes on the offensive that while people like her are "working at the grass roots," NRIs like him "have given up on hope itself." And, of course, Kaveriamma is inclined (marriage or no marriage) to agree with her.

He even blurts out, in the spur of the argument, the us/them 'superiority-complex' (borrowed omnipotence?) implied, for example, in the ill-thought-out posts of some NRIs on this list, including those who might otherwise shudder at consciously thinking such thoughts: he chides Gîtâ for being a "typical Indian" and addresses them both as "you Indians who never admit their faults!" When Kaveriamma repeats his words with disbelief, he immediately corrects himself into "sorry, we Indians" (such a remark from me would have probably prompted a tongue-lashing from a surprised, though still very French, Elizabeth...though, happy to say, it looks like I've yet to provide the occasion...):

When all is said and the meal is done, Kaveriamma's predicament still remains and Mohan proposes the solution (while Gîtâ is temporarily out of earshot...?): you find her the right mate, while I find the pupils to ensure that her school survives.

The next (literally) starry-eyed episode is the rare screening of a romantic movie that the whole village, including the untouchable families and children, has gathered around to watch from their respective sides of the large screen that separates the high from the low. The movie ("The union of memories") is about (the songs and sentiments surrounding) a marriage celebration, and naturally the wider intrigue includes Mohan and Gîtâ exchanging furtive glances (while the heroine sings: "you've stolen my heart" in this very manner) during the sensitive sequences: Bollywood today, like the classical Sanskrit theater in its own time, draws upon a shared emotional sensibility even while reinforcing and generalizing the same through providing a common idiom and frame of reference that transcends barriers of language and caste:

When the electricity fails at the lyrical highpoint, Mohan saves the night by spontaneously improvising a public (including adult) education class in recognizing (and reaching up for) the constellations to the tune of A. R. Rehman's score ("this star, that star, each star"). As he begins to hop back and forth between the opposing sides of the screen to ensure maximum audience participation, the postmaster simply tears down this barrier while the everyone, including the village elders, look on with appreciative consternation at the illuminating antics of this goofy 'foreigner' (NRI). Instead of indulging in accusatory rhetoric, he 'simply' points them towards a common goal to which they could all put their shoulders.

While Gîtâ is grateful for all that he's doing for (her by way of) the village school, she's also alarmed at the ease with which he's ingratiating himself into everyone's (including her own) heart (though she doesn't yet recognize this herself). She gets up to leave, keeps looking back in grudging appreciation (#11), and finally lies in wait, when the show is over, at the back of his caravan to demand why he's come back to trouble her peace of mind by wanting to take Kaveriamma away:

She finally confesses to a surprised Mohan that she gave him false directions at the Delhi bookstore to her village, so that he'd never get here, followed by mutual accusations of wanting to take advantage of their (foster-) mother as an (unpaid) house-maid (whether in Charanpur or in America). This 'hitting below the belt' attempt at 'resolution' ends in a deadlock, with each determined to have his/her way over their shared object of affection.

The ongoing tussle begins (04:35) with her declaring loudly to Kaveriamma tp stop looking for a match for she's decided never to get married (and would hence remain dependent on her foster-mother for bringing up at least her kid brother), and his retorting who would want to marry any girl with such "great expectations" (despite 'conceding' that she's not lacking in beauty), while intimating that there just might be one person who might be willing to put up with her (Kaveriamma?).

The stage is thus all set for tug-of-war of egos - it's not for nothing that king Bhoja, the tântrika, associates and even equates shrngâra with ahamkâra ('egoism') - each bent on its own perception and anticipation of conquest.

Gîtâ accosts the bathing Mohan with charges of putting dreams of America into her kid brother's mind, and his primarily line of defense is to admit teasingly that he's actually taken a liking to her impressed from the very start by her merciless pounding of the unfortunate customer at the bookstore...attempts at "buttering" her into acquiescence that only infuriate her all the more against this "non-returning Indian" (NRI): only angry stares and cowering protest here.

She stomps off declaring that he's more in need of an education than her school kids. Desperate at finding a suitable match for this girl who stubbornly refuses to become an honorably domesticated maid, Kaveriamma begins to take increasing satisfaction overhearing their constant bickering and assaults on each other's vanity. For any self-respecting Hindu who's done their homework on the amours of Krishna and Râdhâ knows that quarrelling is the spicy catalyst of love (as that 'narcissistic' Kathak girl on the Benares rooftop muses: "I have to pretend like Râdhâ, and in that song there is love also and fighting together...[03:09] it never ends, never ends...he's going and dance going" [05:24]). Kaveriamma might perhaps not have the benefit of an astrologer to read the stars (and match horoscopes), but her unschooled eyes can see the stars twinkling in eyes that are still too blinded by transitory (vyabhicâri) emotions to recognize the undertow.

When Mohan makes matters worse by taking Gîtâ's challenge at her word and an uninvited backseat in her elementary class, much to the jubilation of her pupils, the disconcerted teacher is gleeful at the chance to inflict a humiliating lesson:

Mohan miserably flunks each question (what are the five major rivers of India, the new state carved out of Uttar Pradesh, the number of lion faces on the Ashokan pillar, etc.) that the hand-waving kids are jumping to answer with ease. After drawing the lesson on "the need to learn about one's own country before going elsewhere," she dismisses the class, and contemptuously turns her back to dust the blackboard. Mohan then sheds his cocoon of mock ignorance to reveal his true grasp of Indian geography, politics, demography, history, etc., while walking up to her from behind to the blackboard. Her exultant moment of triumph suddenly deflated, she keeps wiping the already clean board unable to turn to face him.

Is her helpless gaze, when he suddenly swings her around by force, speaking confusion, remorse, trepidation, expectation, or something else? Especially, when he begins to confess...what? Does she know herself? Strike back in panic!

As the panic at being caught off-guard in a compromising situation subsides, she discovers that her fellow teacher had called out her name only to present a parent couple who wanted to commit their two kids to the school because Mohan had succeeded in convincing them of the value of a sound education. Gîtâ appreciatively requests them to enroll during the auspicious Dashera celebration at the school. She now has the choice of two conflicting readings of these developments: Mohan is ensuring that her independent career as a schoolteacher takes off so as to take Kaveriamma away to America and is mockingly indulging her own self-estimation as an intelligent woman (as his deception just now would seem to prove), or he has not only made her ambitions his own but has stooped to a level lower than that of her primary class, all for the sake of winning her love...

Am I just one of these star-struck fans who is reading into Gâyatrî's eyes sentiments that she, like Sîtâ spurning Râvanâ, in no way really shares? Here, (a vainglorious?) Mohan is teasing Miss Aloof not to miss his absence from the village:

When she mocks back rather indulgently, "whoever told you that I'd be even thinking of you?" he states the (even to all of us) obvious, "your eyes," of course, "they say everything!" (and, naturally, she's inwardly relieved that her game is up without having to openly compromise herself). In fact, Kaveriamma is sending Mohan off on this overnight trip to a distant village not only (in a vain attempt) to collect overdue rent from a destitute tenant farmer (and thereby discover, at first hand, just how much his motherland needs his experience, skills, and resources, here...), but also to make them both, especially Gîtâ, realize the nature and depth of their feelings for each other ("absence makes the heart grow fonder" as Abhinava says). There's no way to express this dynamic better than by interspersing picturesque scenes from his trek by land and sea with clips of her confessing her new found love to all of nature back in the village: "Now that we've met the whole world is transformed...all's changed, my love, since my eyes courted thine; I've lost my presence of mind, gone is my treasured selfhood. O beloved, I'm simply infatuated, now that you've enchanted my heart!"

Upon his return, he doesn't know how to tie his dhoti for the village assembly on the occasion of the Dasshera festival; watch how the now subdued (but still 'untamed') Gîtâ keeps looking dumbly at him while tersely doing the needful:

The Sanskrit term for (a maiden with) such a spellbound innocent look is mugdhâ ('infatuated'), which is why she curtly tells him to "shut up!" (when he tries to joke at the end).

We may now go on to enjoy (Gîtâ playing the role of) the ascetic Sîtâ, spurning the advances of a rustic Râvana (played by the postmaster), but through the eyes of her virtuous husband Râma (or of the love-stricken Mohan who interrupts the performance?):

An auspicious sight on this Diwali to bear witness, once again, to the redeeming of Sîtâ's honor and the (re-) establishment of dharma (note how real and present all this is to the villagers)!

But the "proof of the pudding" of the "science of love" is always in the eating. Here we finally get to see Gîtâ (come by his caravan only to) gaze longingly at Mohan. Bollywood, as an exponent of rasa, can take the same number-crunching of the original encounter that heralded their subsequent battle of wits, and transform this formula to the nth degree of romance (women in Abhinava's time were not so educated, let alone school-teachers!). After enduring unforgiving glances, gratuitous barbs, physical assault by the 'weaker' sex while trying to take a bath (to the 'teenage' tune of "I've been waiting for a girl like you"), and even a hard knock on the forehead with a soiled duster (simply for getting all his quiz answers more than correct :-), the erotic climax is the sight of her now breaking out, after playfully dumbing down her formidable IQ, into full-faced joyful laughter at his mock obeisance. Mohan's prize is indeed a trophy—the cool light of the full-moon that illumines the whole movie and the soothes our hearts— that Abhinava himself would have delighted in:

When her smiling eyes have already "let the cat out of the bag" what's there left to conceal but to come back, dressed again for the occasion (Passion has made her so bold that she comes straight to the point without bothering to consider that he is deeply engrossed, right now, in the more pressing challenge of solving the problem of bringing electricity to the village. How many of us are aware that this natural 'regression' of a haughtily self-sufficing (and intelligent) woman (mâninî) into the 'dumb' infatuation of a 'schoolgirl' (mugdhâ) only to 'unexpectedly' re-emerge as an 'impudently forward' lover (pragalbhâ) who insists on seizing the initiative, is but a contemporary reenactment of the categories described in profuse detail by the Hindu "science of love" (kâmâ-zâstra), and illustrated by Sanskrit poetics (alankâra-zâstra)?

The various stages that follow of his new collective project of restoring "full power" to the village are (psychologically) interlaced with vignettes of their courtship...to the stereotypical, but relatively restrained, accompaniment of Bollywood song amidst idyllic village scenes. When Mohan's (repeatedly extended "two week") vacation in Charanpur draws to a close under the pressing schedule of the NASA satellite launch, Gîtâ is prepared to marry him but still, most unhappily, refuses to give up her school and commitment to educate her community. Kaveriamma, who was never enthusiastic about adapting, at her age, to a new life in America, has even less reason now to accompany him back. Taking leave from his newfound 'extended family' assembled to bid him a grateful farewell, he looks around in vain for Gîtâ only to find her awaiting his parting caravan on the wooden bridge at the village boundary, as she couldn't bear to reveal her sorrow in public. Her reaffirmation of love is now rather a tragic appeal to return rather for the sake of his homeland that she presents to him as a wooden chest whose compartments are filled with an assortment of native herbs, cereals, flowers, and even pebbles, a tangible memento of his culture:

As he continues on his way looking back through the rearview mirror, Gîtâ is praying for him to turn back of his own accord only to see the caravan gone upon opening her eyes.  Mantra-repeating Sîtâ, who is born of and represents the fertile earth as the basis of community, is no longer a role assumed for the Râm Lîlâ festival but actually takes possession of her soul in an attitude of complete surrender and despair.

For all these never-ending exchanges of (love-) glances, Swades strikes me as a surprisingly 'unsentimental' (and very focused) movie (by Bollywood standards). Whereas their earlier separation, just for a day, had made him realize the depth of his feeling for her as a woman, returning to America to complete his business is suffered as an exile from his true calling of which Gîtâ has become but the emotional embodiment. Other than for Mohan's graphically depicted inner conflict even as (phase 2 of) his NASA project unfolds before our eyes as a roaring success of a satellite launch, nothing is shown of his returning to India, the resumption of their courtship, or even the hint of a marriage ceremony. Instead, we are shown Mohan wrestling with his 'champion' (pahelwan) friend, the postmaster (who had earlier played Râvana during Dashera), and quickly throwing his appreciative opponent to the ground before an admiring crowd that includes Gîtâ and Kaveriamma:

The primary significance of this scene is that it takes place on the stepped landings (ghâts) to the lake where stands the Râma temple of Charanpur, the village taking its name from the (imprints of the) feet of the steadfast Sîtâ and her loyal consort. The underlying symbolic strategy is, no doubt, the superposition of three (or four) unions: Mohan's with Gîtâ (and Kaveriamma), the 'now-returning Indian' (NRI) with his motherland, and of Râma with Sîtâ (played earlier also by Gâyatrî playing Gîtâ). The Light of Diwali shines forth with all its splendor in Swades only when (electric) power is fully restored to all through their own independent collective efforts and Râvana (who these days even dares to usurp the immortal prestige of Râma...) is uprooted from the heart to make way for the fulfillment of the Mahâtmâ's vision.

The waterside Charanpur temple is not the only anchor for the pervasive imprint of the Râmâyana and of Hindu mythology upon the narrative structure of Swades. Immediately after the first pañcâyat assembly, Mohan is taken on a tour of the temple ghâts, where he is shown the footprints of the model couple and learns the significance of the village name. Gîtâ pines fondly for her absent lover while sitting at the temple ghâts, which is where her Râmlîlâ is enacted, and silently urges him to follow her steps in dipping his feet in its cool waters. After her Râma defeats the village Râvana, his heroine urges the the soiled NRI to cleanse himself in its holy waters, and the rest of the (extended) family now throngs around to follow suite. Water and motherhood are indissociable in the Hindu imagination, which is why Gîtâ's first challenge to the conceited NRI is to name the five great rivers of the motherland, starting with the Gangâ (in the Rig-Vedic period, it would have been a different set of five rivers, starting with the Sarasvatî, as the most motherly of rivers). Most significantly, Kaveriamma is herself named after the next among the rivers, the Cauvery in South India (for non-Hindi audiences who might otherwise leave with the impression that this is a 'North Indian' movie). When the NRI arrives to be reunited with his spiritual mother, she is in the midst of massaging a new-born baby, symbolically assuming the role of midwife to this 'born-again' Indian (this 'connection' was immediately pointed out to me by Elizabeth, as she was watching the episode from the DVD over my shoulder). By drawing upon this symbolic repertory, Gowarikar has, perhaps unawares it seems to me, not only infused his contemporary epic with mythico-ritual overtones, but has resuscitated the sacrificial (yajña) ideology that (still) underlies the (subsequent bhakti elaborations of the) Râmâyana,

Does the camera repeatedly return to and linger on Gâyatrî's expressive eyes simply because they happen to be her most attractive physical feature? As windows to the soul, they reveal, of course, how Gîtâ perceives and emotionally responds to the world and those around her. Mohan naturally keeps scrutinizing her (often averted face and) gaze for tell-tale flickers that might betray the reciprocity, often unacknowledged, that constitutes the essence of love as an abiding bond (sthâyî-bhâva). But in peering, so tantalizingly, into the mirror of her 'soul' the lover also glimpses reflections of himself that distort his self-image for better or for worse. Much of (the pre-) 'court-ship' consists in attempts—by both parties in what amounts to a sort of romantic litigation—to bridge the gap between the (self-) image (of the ego) and its refraction in the soul of the other, first by staking and countering claims and then, gradually, by falling in love with the transformation reflection taking shape (like Narcissus drowning in self-admiration).  It is Gîtâ's newfound fascination with her reflection in the otherwise familiar mirror that calls forth the joyous abandonment of self in her first love song (Sâwariyân), for the loveliness she begins to recognize therein is her enhanced image in the (now temporarily) absent eyes of her beloved Mohan. As Gîtâ begins to idolize Mohan as the flesh-and-blood hero of her most cherished dreams, the latter willy-nilly transforms himself into the very idol he sees in the eyes of his worshipper. Having ridiculed her for 'high-flown' ideals that would scare off any 'realistic' suitor, he finds himself repeating her very words to persuade others to acquiesce in their own uplifting ("are a woman's hands good only for ornamenting with henna?" etc.). In this 'win-win' resolution, Mohan has fallen in love not just with Gîtâ but with his own pre-figuration in the heartfelt prayers of this abandoned Sîtâ, and Gîtâ not just with Mohan but with the (self-) fulfillment of her dreams of service (sevâ) through the agency of this long-exiled contemporary Râma. The lovers begin to realize that they never knew who they 'really' were (and could be) until mutual love compels them to recognize the self in the other. Bhoja's equation of the seeming opposites of irresistible Eros (shrngâra) and confining ego-centrism (ahamkâra) is not simply a 'metaphysical' abstraction, but the 'tantric' resolution of the fundamental formula that governs all human striving and finds aesthetic codification in Sanskrit poetics and now in Bollywood.

Those who weren't able to follow the Hindi dialogue in the above easily accessible clips (that can be also viewed full screen) can still watch the entire movie (strongly recommended) with English subtitles for free (high bandwidth for $9.99) at

http://www.rajshri.com/movies/nowplaying.asp?band=low&fileID=moviesDrama191

Rajshri productions seems to be offering Swades (along with Pâyal kî Jhankâr...) for free due to its lackluster performance at the box-office among the target audience: American NRIs. These 'enlightened' progressives have faulted the director Gowarikar on especially 'intellectual' grounds, for not making a movie other than the one we just enjoyed. The film keeps dragging on because it's too 'didactic' (like our epics themselves?); Mohan touches on so many social ills (caste, corruption, overpopulation, poverty, inefficiency, superstition, etc.) that he's unable to do justice to any; the villagers exude a naive optimism that would rapidly evaporate in any NRI who stays back more than a couple of months; and so this list could go on interminably. Shahrukh Khan, who anticipated its commercial flop even while rehearsing, still identified himself with its noble message, and goes so far as to affirm "I think like my character in Swades [but] unfortunately I'm not in a position to change the way our society functions."  For me, Swades is simply a love-story, between a man and a woman, between an Indian and his motherland, between a Hindu and his (not just Râmâyana) tradition: when the 'sentiment' (rasa) runs deep, the problems, though analyzed similarly, are perceived very differently; when it spreads wide, it finds enough hands to start getting the job done. Perhaps the 'failure' is really that of its (over-?) 'sophisticated' audiences having lost touch with themselves?

Why have I dwelt even more insistently on these ephemeral and 'repetitive' (exchange of) glances than Abhinava has on the impersonal (we don't even know the names of his lovers let alone anything else about their relationships...) 'trivialities' of Amaru's over-active amorous imagination, whose each verse is treasured as a 'pearl' (muktaka) that when pried open through the techniques of 'suggestion' (dhvani) becomes an entire drama (nâTyâyitam) all unto itself? Because they capture a 'sensibility' (sahrdayatva = 'having a heart') that is shared by South Asians irrespective of religion, caste, class, and gender. The 'sentimental' tale of the fortuitous and crooked paths taken by Gîtâ's haughty riveting stare and condescendingly aloof smile to reach their final destination of unselfconsciously adoring gaze and contagious heartfelt laughter, is also the narrative of rediscovering the lost childhood love for one's motherland as embodying a distinct cultural sensibility. Curiously, this 'failed' movie now draws appreciative comments on YouTube from Bangladeshis, Nepalis, etc., even Pakistanis and Afghans, living abroad, in whom it evokes longings of return from exile. The 'patriotism' of Swades is not rooted in chauvinism nor even (a narrow and un-Gandhian) 'nationalism' but in a way of feeling about the world, social relationships, and oneself. Great works of art, composed for the future, are often not appreciated by (or even known to) their immediate audiences (in much the same way that Abhinava, who embodies such sensibility, is not mentioned in the works of his less illustrious contemporaries).

But the gaze (Sanskrit: darzan) is central not just to the unruly passions of lovers but also to the Hindu conception and architecture of the divine: we go to the temple not just to see the Invisible but to be 'seen' in turn. The 'servant of God' (deva-dâsî) asks her (both human and transcendent) Lord (in the Tamil movie, Thillana Mohanambal), "what is the secret of hiding and looking at me?" before going on to proclaim, "other than for me, who can (really) see You?" She begins, in fact, by asking "what's so beautiful (to your eyes)? this temple, or is it this (my statuesque) form?"  But isn't what we actually see in the temple a mere 'idol', perhaps the fetishistic object of even more self-deluding than the spontaneous 'worship' that these film-stars evoke in their starry-eyed fans? And how could the formless Absolute possibly (deign to) 'look at' the finitude of his transitory creatures? Just as the authentic lover exhibits the self to the beloved only to become this transfigured image mirrored in the eyes of the other, so too does the transcendent divinity 'objectified' in the (the temple that houses) idol divine image reflect back the hidden nature of the ultimate Self. Though there are no longer any human eyes looking back at (much less desiring) and following the (inner) movements of the (soul of the) worshipper, the latter is nevertheless voluntarily entering into a 'personalized' relationship with God that is structured by a shared framework of myth, ritual, and aesthetic sensibility. Insofar as this environment is cast 'faithfully' in the direct image of an authentic experience of the divine, such worship amounts, paradoxically, to a process of Self-discovery through interiorizing the Other! The life of the emotions (rasa) surrounding ritual worship becomes a medium for (re-) constructing one's (ultimate sense of) identity by interiorizing the object of devotion (bhakti). Just as the worldly lover becomes his/her own reflection, Abhinavagupta's 'doctrine of recognition' (pratyabhijñâ) reconciles gnostic experience of the Absolute within and the worship of a personal God without, through the non-dualistic formula of "externalizing the Self onto an (objectivized) image (that is not really separate)" (âtmânam eva jñeyî-kuryât, prthak sthiti jñeyam na tu): : the notion of the 'reflected image' (prati-bimba) is at the core of the 'doctrine of recognition' (pratyabhijñâ is also called pratibimba-vâda). So important is the gaze (darzan) to Hindu bhakti that the (otherwise formless deity) is often represented iconographically simply (and even very crudely) by its eyes!

What is the status of the ego-function (aham-kâra) within this understanding of bhakti? [to be complete]

So important is the gaze that the deity is often represented iconographically simply (and even crudely) by its eyes! For some 'pious' Muslims, to be 'seen' by a doe-eyed female, even if the rest of her face (and body) is wholly covered by the veil of the unknown, seems to be a terrifying experience (enough to provoke even more terrifying sanctions against the 'weaker' sex?). Many Hindu bhaktas would ask, however, how someone incapable of appreciating the light reflected in the eyes of a lover could possibly see the Light radiating from the Holy Book?

As this concoction (Abhinava's pânaka-rasa?) was still brewing before my mind's eye, it struck me, a couple of days back, that I owed it to my readers—and to myself—to find out who Gâyatrî really is (e.g., what other films she has acted in...) before posting:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gayatri_Joshi

Had I known, as I now discover, that this modern Sîtâ, making such a magnificent debut in her first and only film, was actually a glamorous fashion model, who had first met Shahrukh while modeling together for a publicity stunt, and had to work very hard, with the help of so many people, to molt into the inspiring role cast for her by the director's eye, before getting married in real-life to become a mother,

http://www.hindisong.com/Interview/Interview.asp?ContentID=680&cID=1296

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CUZl6qwhbw

http://www.freewebs.com/gayatrijoshi/index.htm [Gayatri-Joshi-Fan-Club website]

http://movies.groups.yahoo.com/group/Gayatri-Joshi-Fan-Club/ [Gayatri-Joshi-Fan-Club Yahoo! Group]

http://www.hamaraphotos.com/gayatri_joshi_827.html& (etc.)

I'm not sure that "looking into the eyes" of Gîtâ would have exuded so much rasa and (not just desh-) bhakti, as it has till now...

Enjoy!

[The French email (citations from my analysis were already in English) to Paul Paumier has been translated here into English. Click on the link to the original post at Abhinava forum for the French version]

Friends,

Diwali greetings to all!

Along with a follow-up to my review yesterday of (not just the 'aesthetics' of) Swades, which is now available at

http://www.svabhinava.org/abhinava/Dialogues/ShrngaraBhaktiSeva-frame.php

As you can see from the revised passages below, I've added a few details to further demonstrate just how much of this beautiful, and still relevant movie, we may miss even after multiple viewings...

All the best!

Sunthar

-----Original Message-----

Bonjour Paul,

Thanks for all these delicious treats for Diwali that you are sharing so generously with your readers!

I'd like to invite all of you to watch the village theatrical representation of Sîtâ's redemption in the film Swades (on the relation between NRIs and India)

--------------

We may now go on to enjoy (Gîtâ playing the role of) the ascetic SÎtâ, spurning the advances of a rustic Râvana (played by the postmaster), but through the eyes of her virtuous husband Râma (or of the love-stricken hero Mohan who interrupts the performance?):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2PH1a2fVew ((#16: starts at 05:28 continues into next clip)

An auspicious sight indeed on this Diwali to bear witness, once again, to the redeeming of Sîtâ's honor and the (re-) establishment of dharma (note how real and present all this is to the villagers)!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYGuU2nq4oE (#17)

For all these never-ending exchanges of often ambiguous (love-) glances, Swades strikes me as a surprisingly 'unsentimental' (and very focused) movie (by Bollywood standards). Other than for Mohan's graphically depicted inner conflict even as (phase 1 of) his NASA project unfolds before our eyes as a roaring success of a satellite launch, nothing at all is shown of his actually returning to India, the resumption of their courtship, or even the hint of a marriage ceremony. Instead, we are shown Mohan wrestling with his 'champion' (pahelwan) friend, the postmaster (who had earlier played Râvana during Dashera), and quickly throwing his appreciative opponent to the ground before an admiring crowd that includes Gîtâ and Kaveriamma:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNh4b4oV5M8 (#22: ends at 04:20)

The primary significance of the scene is that it takes place on the stepped landings (ghâts) to the lake where stands the Râma temple of Charanpur, the village taking its name from the (imprints of the) feet of the steadfast Sîtâ and her consort. The underlying symbolic strategy is, no doubt, the superposition of three (or four) unions: Mohan's with Gîtâ (and Kaveriamma), the 'now-returning Indian' NRI) with his motherland, and of Râma with Sîtâ (played earlier also by Gâyatrî playing Gîtâ). The Light of Diwali is restored in Swades only when electricity is fully restored for all through their own independent collective efforts and the Râvana (who these days even dares to usurp the immortal prestige of Râma...) is uprooted from the heart to make way for the fulfillment of the Mahâtmâ's vision.　

-------------

If you'd like to explore further 'intellectually' this taste (rasa) of shared joy, you may read my review of Swades from the perspective of Abhinavagupta's aesthetics.

http://www.svabhinava.org/abhinava/Dialogues/ShrngaraBhaktiSeva-frame.php

My apologies for not resorting to French but most of my readers are Anglophone :-(

Happy festivities!

!Sunthar

---

I am really proud of Swades. It is a fantastic product. It is touching so many people in so many ways. If people like it they speak of it very passionately and that gives me goose bumps. We worked hard and that it has touched people it was gratifying. When I saw the film I was concentrating more on myself because it was the first time that I have acted or danced or even delivered a dialogue. It was a shock and pleasure to see myself and there was a nostalgic feel because I kept recalling how and where each scene was shot, etc. It becomes a very nostalgic feeling. I must say I came out thrilled that the film had turned out so amazing. You can’t call it preachy. If you understand the message in the film you wont find it preachy. It’s the nature of the story. People have received this message very well.

Gayatri Joshi (movie interview)

After directing the epic-scaled, Academy Award nominated period drama “Lagaan”, Ashutosh Gowarikar settles for simplicity. Shahrukh Khan finally sheds off his star persona, enacting a refreshingly subtle, but powerful performance thanks to the director’s sensitive storytelling. Though he introduces his protagonist as a pragmatist, Gowarikar carefully imbibes Mohan Bhargava with the emotional capacity to act passionately within rational means. As was witnessed in “Lagaan”, Gowarikar extends that rationality and articulation to every supporting character, developing each one with the aim of influencing his protagonist’s goal. One such character, Gita inspires Mohan through her own example, to lead and create change. The serenely beautiful Gayatri Joshi makes a classy and confident debut in a strong, well-written role carrying herself with unassuming grace and poise. Humor is skillfully played with, extracted out of the village-folk’s innocence. [...] Gowarikar’s writing is strongly focused, characterization once again, proving to be his forte. Like “Lagaan”, “Swades” too tells the story of good triumphing over evil. This time however, evil has no face but is rather equated with regressive ideology. The enemy lies within in the form of passive acceptance of injustice by those who suffer it and ignorance by those who witness it. Mohan Bhargava helps Charanpur’s villagers identify this enemy, teaching them to fight it, while at the same time, learning from them, how to fight the enemy within himself. Javed Akhtar’s lyrics effectively ponder over these emotions through powerful musical interludes such as “Yeh Jo Des Hai Mera” and “Pal Pal Hai Bhaari.” [...] Despite the negligible technical flaws, Gowarikar succeeds as a storyteller because his script has its heart just at the right place. A simple but inspirational experience, “Swades” must be seen by every Indian, not to be educated about his or her country’s problems, but rather to be reminded about a responsibility to act and make a difference. Patriotism has a new face.

Vijay Venkataraman, Review of Swades (Planet Bollywood)

Friends,

Realizing that I had not sufficiently highlighted the core 'scientific' theme of Gâyatrîs "full-frontal smiling gaze" nor the continuing 'mythical' hold of Sîtâ over the movie, I have filled out the relevant passages so as to also bring out the contrast.

What if Mohan had attempted to persuade Gîtâ to accompany him back to America by insisting that Sîtâ would have rather followed Râma into exile? Is it simply an unseemly desire for 'independence' that makes his wife-to-be stay behind?

Here's where it's important to recall that Sîtâ is actually, already in the Râmâyana, the very embodiment of the prosperity of the community as rooted in the native land: had Gîtâ crossed the bridge in pursuit she'd no longer be Sîtâ...

Makes sense?

Sunthar

----------------------

An auspicious sight on this Diwali to bear witness, once again, to the redeeming of Sîtâ's honor and the (re-) establishment of dharma (note how real and present all this is to the villagers)! [...see initial post for complete text...] Mantra-repeating Sîtâ, who is born of and represents the fertile earth as the basis of community, is no longer a role assumed for the Râm Lîlâ festival but actually takes possession of her soul in an attitude of complete surrender and despair. For all these never-ending exchanges of (love-) glances, Swades strikes me as a surprisingly 'unsentimental' (and very focused) movie (by Bollywood standards). Whereas their earlier separation, just for a day, had made him realize the depth of his feeling for her as a woman, returning to America to complete his business is suffered as an exile from his true calling of which Gîtâ has become but the emotional embodiment.

As this concoction (Abhinava's pânaka-rasa?) was still brewing before my mind's eye, it struck me, a couple of days back, that I owed it to my readers—and to myself—to find out who Gâyatrî really is (e.g., what other films she has acted in...) before posting: [...see initial post...] I'm not sure that "looking into the eyes" of Gîtâ would have exuded so much rasa and (not just desh-) bhakti, as it has till now...

--------------------

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Recently, the US media reported what seems to be a not very important event: China is among the countries that has received contracts for building electric power plants in Iraq. Still, close scrutiny of the event revealed a lot about the nature of not so much China's but the US's foreign policy and political system, and the real state of the US economy. The very fact that China was invited to build power stations in Iraq looks like a rather surprising development. The point is that this should be done by the Americans, who not only have the  expertise but - and this should be quite an important consideration - have allocated literally billions of dollars of taxpayer money for Iraqi "reconstruction", ie, providing the country with essential services, without which, as the George W Bush administration rightly asserts, a stable government is not possible. Still, after several years of work and all the billions spent, as one Iraqi official acknowledged, little has been done to provide even such essentials as electricity. [...]  Still, they decided to do so because the entire experience of the American occupation demonstrates to them the extreme inefficiency of not just the US military machine - the huge dinosaur of a superpower unable to deal with comparatively poorly armed insurgents - but also of the US's economic management. And this might have much more direct implications in the long run for the American imperial presence than a military defeat. [...]  In the Cold War world, American power and its imperial span rested not so much on its nuclear arsenal and its navy and air force but on the power of the American economy and the image of the US as the richest and most efficient economic machine in the world. It was assumed that friendship with the US would make a country's economic machine run smoothly, and that generous American largess would provide plenty of dollars - as good as gold. And this, indeed, was true. Not only did the dollar have direct gold backing, but also America was the leader of economic and managerial techniques. Indeed it is American management techniques and the generous Marshall Plan that were responsible for Europe's rising from the ashes with remarkable speed.  During the Cold War era, the nations of Eastern Europe publicly proclaimed their desire for liberty as the major reason for their attachment to the US. Still, liberty was not the major attraction: the desire was for the American way of life - as it was visualized - and it was the life of economic plenty, a life where everything ran smoothly and efficiently and the American dollar was the king of currencies. [...]  And this image of US management as wasteful, corrupt and inefficient, after years and billions of dollars spent, and unable not just to improve the life of ordinary people but even to return Iraq's basic services in many areas to a level existing even during Saddam Hussein's rule, has damaged the US's image much more than all the abuses of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo. [...] It is not only that the weakening dollar makes maintaining the US global presence more and more burdensome but also that the US has fewer and fewer resources for providing substantial amounts of largess for its friends and satellites. The US has started to lose its major weapon: the checkbook. And it is here that other nations who became "Americanized", ie, efficient and rich, have started to replace the US. And it is this that is indicated by what seems to be the trivial fact of replacing an American company by a Chinese one in building an electricity plant in Iraq.

Dmitry V. Shlapentokh, "US loses wattage to China in Iraq," Asia Times Online (Nov 13, 2007)

 

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[The post below is also a contribution, more from the 'psychological' (as opposed to 'political') angle to our svAbhinava digest on

"Caste, racism, assimilation, and multiculturalism: the politics of acculturation"]

Powerful emotions are engendered through the conflict of values and their resolution; the personal values of the spectator unavoidably color one’s perception, impeding or facilitating this identification with the protagonists so crucial to the evocation of the intended rasa. [...]  Classical Sanskrit theater thus reflects a convergence of aesthetics and ethics: a traditional Indian exposed to such cultural pedagogy from all sides would often act appropriately because this was not just morally right but also a matter of good taste. [...] The permanent tension and possible conflict between the socio-religious norms governing human behavior and the imaginative exploitation of the latter for procuring public delight is explicitly discussed by subsequent rhetoricians and the verdict is almost invariably in favor of curtailing artistic liberties. But is 'propriety' (aucitya) a moral ('social') or an aesthetic category or, rather, symptomatic of the 'confused' overlapping of the two domains? Though morality and art constitute distinct domains, - each with its own practices, rules, and rationality - they are also intertwined through their very nature, particularly in the context of normative theater. Over and above the inevitable conflicts over where (external) boundaries are to be drawn, the poetics of suggestion often revolves around the (at least imaginative) transgression of social norms, the connoisseur’s ability to appreciate their validity even while sympathetically entertaining the possibility (and even likelihood) of their circumvention (if not suspension). The uncertain and ambivalent status of rasâbhâsa with regard to 'good' and 'bad' taste is no doubt symptomatic of a larger cultural 'project' where the (rigid external) observance of (binding socio-religious) norms is gradually subsumed within a generalized aesthetic sensibility that is keenly attuned to (the 'irregularities' of) particular context and individual circumstance. Born of and appealing to a highly diverse society - where each (sub-) caste is (self-) regulated by its distinct and often conflicting norms - 'Hindu' taste is the product of constant (re-) 'negotiation'. [ad. notes #47-52]

Sunthar V., "Towards an Integral Appreciation of Abhinavagupta's Aesthetics of Rasa" (Evam 2006)

The next (literally) starry-eyed episode is the rare screening of a romantic movie that the whole village, including the untouchable families and children, has gathered around to watch from both sides of the large screen that separates the high from the low. The movie ("The union of memories") is about (the songs and sentiments surrounding) a marriage celebration, and naturally the wider intrigue includes Mohan and Gîtâ exchanging furtive glances (while the heroine sings: "you've stolen my heart" in this very manner) during the sensitive sequences: Bollywood today, like the classical Sanskrit theater in its own time, draws upon a shared emotional sensibility even while reinforcing and generalizing the same through providing a common idiom and frame of reference that transcends barriers of language and caste: [...] When the electricity fails at the lyrical highpoint, Mohan saves the night by spontaneously improvising a public (including adult) education class in recognizing (and reaching up for) the constellations to the tune of A. R. Rehman's score ("this star, that star, each star"). As he begins to hop back and forth between the opposing sides of the screen to ensure maximum audience participation, the postmaster simply takes down this barrier while everyone, including the village elders, look on with appreciative consternation at the illuminating antics of this 'foreigner' (NRI). Instead of indulging in accusatory rhetoric, he 'simply' points them towards a common goal to which they could all put their shoulders.

Swades: Gîtâ's side-glances at Mohan watching Bollywood movie (YouTube)

What's important to bear in mind while enjoying the above clip from Swades, is that the sentiments (rasa) are shared by all regardless of caste (age, gender, station, or religion) and serve to mitigate and even to dissolve (partly and temporarily) the less visible social barriers. Given the internal diversity of the community and the collective perception of organic unity, continual (re-) negotiation must have been central to the dynamic vitality of the traditional organization. This is readily apparent even from a ritual perspective, as in the community festivals around (the headman assuming the role of) the king, where the untouchable typically plays a crucial role (as in the Pachali Bhairab Jatra studied by Elizabeth).

[The post below is also a contribution, more from the 'psychological' (as opposed to 'political') angle to our svAbhinava digest on

"Hindu, Indian, or South Asian identity?"]

[some movies can change ur attitude] [that's so true. it really very damn touchy movie. i still cant believe what the hell i'm doing out here] [Simply close the light in the night and listen this song.... We will def miss our nation] [yes, i am moving back to Swades after seeing Swades] [wow i cant believ how our MUSIC LEGEND ARR compose and sing this song same as mini me also turned to speechless when i hear this song greaaat. can realise his real patriotism from his sound love u rahman you and ur music is our identity in the world of music // i love my INDIA miss soo much my country // friends be proud cz we are INDIANS the real democratic and cultural capital of the world. VANDEMATHARAM] [amazing song and sung greatly by ARR. It's really touching one and i always hear this when i remember my own Swades living in Pardesh.] [great song India ho ya Pakistan liken DIL IK]  [It's just so meaningful ...I want to make my uncle see this movie...he's just like srk in the muvi...India Rockss..He's also an aeronautical engineer in the us] [LOVE this song..It makes me wanna leave everything and RUNNN back to my India...only if things were so easy.] [it's all in your mind, be honest and introspect - you'll realize things are easy] [TO quote a song: Objects in the mirror, are closer than they appear. Obviously, we are a feeling culture.] [It makes me feel so lonely. It's so mechanical and insane life in a different nation. I wish I had never left India.] [I'm not Indian and I have a great respect for them, I love Indian people, I am in love with Indian movies, I love this song, I remember my country, and I cry like Mohan (SRK in this movie):( ] [nemutlu, thank you soo much for ur love and respect towards us..we too love and respect you and your country soo much..be with us .u know A.R. RAHMAN the legend in indian music history. he sing this song..the movie also one of the best movie in Bollywood..] [I will always be with Indian, you have not to worry about this and I like veryyyyyyyyy much this movie, it enables us to remember our country, the singer have a real good voice :-) ] [awesome song...makes me cry every single time i listen to it...SRK is superb in this movies..in fact his best performance so far if you ask me..charming, intelligent and witty individual...he is like himself in this movie...and I have no words to describe AAR...he is simply the best.] [Ta piosenka jest piekna dla emigrantow i polonii * This song is ideal for polish emigrants. greetings:) ] [ reminds me of India everytime i listen this song] [makes me cry] [ I CRY A LOT ANYTIME I WATCH THE SONG.] [A.R. Rahman...the god.] [Amazing song wake up call for all NRI's to contribute back to india in some or the other way and show the effort that we care.] [what a song!..i first saw this movie when i came back from Pakistan...what a muvi..srk rulez!] [Beautiful! While emotional, it's very sensitively (not sentimentally) depicted. Rahman is truly amazing. Mechos has a point tho. It's not easy to do what Mohan did. People are very emotional and irrational and can be quite "wacko" as he puts it. Still, makes me think very seriously about going back.] [I new here in the US, and I cried like a baby righ now...and I know it is not just homesickness. I miss my Country.] [Yeah, I love this song. It reminds me that no matter where I venture to, wherever I explore, I always, always have a beautiful country to call home, a place that will always embrace me for who I am. Jai Hind :)] [i listen to this song every night b4 i sleep, like some one commented prev, shut the lights in the night lie down and listen to this song..sweeeeet feeling..  when will i go home !!!!!!] [really one of the greatest movie i have ever seen. I'm living outside my country. I really miss India. I am surprised why this movie was FLOP. May be people in India didn't get what the movie tried to show since they are living there but ask those people who are living outside India how much they miss INDIA and what to say about this songs really makes me emotional every time and can hear this song for 100s of time. those who have not visited india I'll ask them to visit once & see OUR nation full of love.] [this was such a good movie it was so heartfelt it made me miss my country by the way I'm from Bangladesh] [Amazing song and an amazing movie. I guess it flopped in India because people there can't relate to the character as much as we can (Indians living abroad)] [It's not about the movie being flop or making money. I think India benefitted from the message. A lot of people have moved back and are contributing. They are invisible because they want to be. The people who could listen to the message, they did and are taking actions. I love my India and you should as well. Contribute, teach and respect.] [yes bcoz of piracy, hardly any movie is a hit on the list, but amongst Indians it is famous, I loved the movie but now i love the song much more then before coz now I'm abroad .....sniff....:(] [SRK's best performance till date........ And some idiot people say he cant act.....] [I am not Indian nor desi, but I am huge fan of Bollywood!!! I love this song, it really touch my heart!!!] [I was so surprised when it was not so popular.. its one of the best movies Bollywood has..] [True..one of the finest movies in recent times..very nicely directed!!]

Sampling of viewer comments on A.R. Rehman's song Yeh jo des hai tera (with Polish subtitles) from Swades on YouTube

[buen video, esa cancion es uno de mis favoritos... = "great video, this song is one of my favorites" - SV] [A truly amazing song. Every expatriate Indian, or for that matter any soul that has ever left their motherland and gone to a foreign land, will identify with the words and the emotion of this song. Truly meaningful and poetic. It's been more than a decade since I have left India and to this day its call hasn't lost its vigor.] [i just love this song, the smell of patriotism, philanthropy, simplicity are the key elements which i love and can emotionally relate to] [Awesome movie and an awesome song. as tharam said, every single time i listen to this song my eyes swell up with tears. I love my country, honking horn on the roads, the dust in my eyes, I MISS MY COUNTRY SO MUCH....] [This is the best movie I have ever watched.] [I'm not even Indian and I cry whenever I watch this video. It is sooooo good.] [That's true, it makes me cry when i watch this video, if you understand hindi i am sure it will make you cry even more! India is what is conveyed in this song more so the movie Swades.. Simply Superb!] [Every time I watch the video makes my heart heavy and make me more lonely, guess its high price to stay away from Home.] [I love my India, it make me emotional and think to change my plan to go back to India[absolutely fantastic....rahman rocks...really hope tis song inspires ppl 2 work here n do sumthing 4 our country's betterment...]

Viewer comments on A.R. Rehman's song Yeh jo des hai tera clip from Swades on YouTube

 [I luv this movie, nothing like that. am living in a diff country n I know how does it feel 2 differentiate between goods and bads of india. but i love it] [yeah, i myself love this film. i think this is the only film which has made me to interpret cinema in an influential way. Bollywood has never produced a better film than 'Swades' - not even the mighty 'mughal-e-azam'.] [I love this song. usually I don't like SRK's movies but he worked really well in this movie and I watched this more for many many times as living in abroad .... this is just hard reality, isn't it? But we need to change it. Thanks for the song.] [I'm not even Hindusthani, and yet this song moves me to no end...I agree that this film is indeed one of the best from the Bollywood studios. There is a new era dawning for Hindi cinema, as it embarks upon projects that deal boldly with real issues in a way that reaches domestic and international audiences.] [i am still not being able to accept the fact that this film was a flop ??????????????? Indian people should accept the truth that has been presented in the film, only Mumbai and Delhi are not in India,,, this film is just too good and it reflects not only the problem of India but of course of all the developing nations,,,,,,,,,,,,cheers] [you are right... Swades is too good of a film to be a flop... this shows the mentality and taste of people living in India as Swades was a superhit abroad...] [ yes it was a damn big hit in my place, Nepal, think i ve watched that film about 30 times and i can even remember the dialogues, Shahrukh, oh comn freaking he's made me cry, and the touch of Rehman,,, just too good,,,cheers]

Viewer comments on A.R. Rehman's song Yeh jo des hai tera clip from Swades on YouTube

Rajshri productions seems to be offering Swades (along with Pâyal kî Jhankâr...) for free due to its lackluster performance at the box-office among the target audience: American NRIs. These 'enlightened' progressives have faulted the director Gowarikar on especially 'intellectual' grounds, for not making a movie other than the one we just enjoyed. The film keeps dragging on because it's too 'didactic' (like our epics themselves?); Mohan touches on so many social ills (caste, corruption, overpopulation, poverty, inefficiency, superstition, etc.) that he's unable to do justice to any; the villagers exude a naive optimism that would rapidly evaporate in any NRI who stays back more than a couple of months; and so this list could go on interminably. Shahrukh Khan, who anticipated its commercial flop even while rehearsing, still identified himself with its noble message, and goes so far as to affirm "I think like my character in Swades [but] unfortunately I'm not in a position to change the way our society functions."  For me, Swades is simply a love-story, between a man and a woman, between an Indian and his motherland, between a Hindu and his (not just Râmâyana) tradition: when the 'sentiment' (rasa) runs deep, the problems, though analyzed similarly, are perceived very differently; when it spreads wide, it finds enough hands to start getting the job done. Perhaps the 'failure' is really that of its (over-?) 'sophisticated' audiences having lost touch with themselves?

Why have I dwelt even more insistently on these ephemeral and 'repetitive' (exchange of) glances than Abhinava has on the impersonal (we don't even know the names of his lovers let alone anything else about their relationships...) 'trivialities' of Amaru's over-active amorous imagination, whose each verse is treasured as a 'pearl' (muktaka) that when pried open through the techniques of 'suggestion' (dhvani) becomes an entire drama (nâTyâyitam) all unto itself? Because they capture a 'sensibility' (sahrdayatva = 'having a heart') that is shared by South Asians irrespective of religion, caste, class, and gender. This 'sentimental' tale of the fortuitous and crooked paths taken by Gîtâ's haughty riveting stare and condescendingly aloof smile to reach their final destination of unselfconsciously adoring gaze and contagious heartfelt laughter, is also the narrative of rediscovering the lost childhood love for and at-home-ness in one's motherland as embodying a distinct cultural sensibility. Curiously, this 'failed' movie now draws appreciative comments on YouTube from Bangladeshis, etc., even Pakistanis and Afghans, living abroad, in whom it evokes longings of return from exile. The 'patriotism' of Swades is not rooted in chauvinism nor even (a narrow and un-Gandhian) 'nationalism' but in a way of feeling about and 'negotiating' the world, social r