Kabita Mukhopadhyay, Political All the Way

She was born in West Bengal and groomed at Santhiniketan during vibrant and turbulent times in Indian politics and culture, but Kabita Mukhopadhyay has been in Kerala for the past 21 years, as artist, art researcher and the partner of Prabhakaran, the artist who connects her to what she calls ‘the land of rich, deep and creamy palette’.

“I love Kerala and had been to the state even before I joined Prabhakaran,” she says, adding that her visit was during her Santhiniketan days. “As part of a group of students from all over the country who came to Kerala to experience the monsoon. We travelled from Tamil Nadu to Palakkad in the month of June observing the see the clouds reflecting on the hills of Sahyadri just before it starts to rain. I was fascinated by the brighter colour palette of Kerala in comparison with Bengal. Here, the red is a little more red.”

The fierceness of red and the passion of artists from Kerala later went on to influence her. She was drawn into the political, cultural, cinema and poetic awareness of Malayalis. Kabita adds, “Malayalis enjoy great respect outside Kerala for their sensitive mind, educated stance, highly committed attitude and the proportion of their way of connecting with their job, be it a clerical job, bureaucratic roles or as an artist.”

At Santhiniketan, she was influenced by Malayali poets A. Ayyappan, Ayyappa Panicker and Kadammanitta Ramakrishnan. But her greatest inspiration came from sculptor K.P. Krishnakumar, who, along with Prabhakaran and others, was the founding member of the Indian Radical Painters and Sculptors Association, the first movement of avant-garde artists in the country. The movement, which was an extension of the anti-establishment movements of the 80s, believed in making art accessible to common man, taking art to markets, schools, dhobi ghats, fishing hamlets and streets. “I haven’t seen such a true and passionate artist like Krishnakumar who works so hard, day and night. He had a very different kind of say about art, that it has to be with the masses and not in galleries. He kept questioning the Bengal romantic school which never talked about life and reality. The movement influenced and inspired many art institutions, universities, colleges, including Santhiniketan, where stalwarts like K.G. Subramanyan, another Keralite, Somnath Hore and Nandalal Bose worked,” she says.

It was at Shantiniketan that Kabita met Prabhakaran who was there for two years as part of an exchange programme from M.S. University Baroda. “He was working at my studio when I got JRF for research on the Chola art of Mahabalipuram. I wanted guidance from an authentic poetic historian and I was suggested the name of Ayyappa Panicker as the best person in and around South India to talk about Chola history.” She soon packed her bags to Thiruvananthapuram to meet Panicker. “I was so engrossed with his personality and outlook, and was drawn towards his poetic conversations about the connection between Indian languages. I couldn’t even take notes while he talked; it was such spellbinding experience listening to him.”

And then she got to know Prabhakaran more. “The radical group was dying down and he became my research material. All the artists were joining the mainstream and academic elitism, wrong ideas and gossips got spread about the radical movement. Poor Krishnakumar committed suicide in 1989. Even while everyone left the disintegrating movement, only one man stood strong on the idealistic ground – Prabhakaran. I decided to engage with his creative process to know more about him.”

Kabita says she didn’t want to take his interviews or follow him to exhibitions. Instead, she chose to be in his studio and paint his way of working. “Ultimately, we coupled to make a family and now we have four children,” she says.

Kabita’s research over the years made her explore the radical movement and ‘become a martyr’. As she puts it, “Now, I am a little aware of their way of working – their life, cultural pressure, process, suffering and depression. I went through it all and became a martyr. I won’t die again.”

Her research is not intended for a doctoral degree, “I want this to be published. I want to distribute this understanding of mine about the radical movement in art, which is a lot more than what people had perceived.”

Kerala, for her is land of Krishnakumar and Prabhakaran, the jewels from the land who never wished to be on the stage. “Now, at 72, Prabhakaran is still strong, struggling and hanging on, staying true to his ideology and platform, with such kind of commitment the mainstream artists can’t dare to follow. A very truthful visualiser of the time, Prabhakaran’s works like Shabdikkunna Kalappa depicts the subjects which are not discussed in the mainstream,” observes Kabita, whose attachment to Kerala, therefore, is highly political too.

From time to time, she makes a visit to Bengal, to her ailing mother. As much as she adores Kerala, she feels that people have strangely become hypocrites too, “I want to understand the mystery of why people celebrate demolition of skyscrapers like an IPL match. People who ritualistically talk about Sree Narayana Guru refuse to question. My emotions are real and I know that these emotions cannot sell.” Art, for Kabita, is all about staying true and committed.

 Unedited version of the feature published in the March 2022 edition of Malayalam Literary Survery 

Future is Bright for Mohiniyattam: Pallavi Krishnan

 

It was in her early 20s, in 1992, that Pallavi Krishnan moved to Kerala with an aim – to join the Kerala Kalamandalam in Cheruthuruthi to get trained in Mohiniyattam, the art form which fascinated her during her graduation days at Shantiniketan in her hometown Kolkata. Kalamandalam Sankaranarayanan, her guru, who introduced her to Mohiniyattam, while she was being trained in Kathakali and Bharatanatyam alongside Rabindra Sangeet, persuaded her to follow her passion for the artform, which took her to Kerala.

“Kerala, for me, was a cultural shock. It was a conservative place, the language was new, I had no friends, I had zero social interaction, and me hailing from an urban environment, it all made it worse to adjust. Even two years later, I couldn’t pick up Malayalam. I was initially very uncomfortable here. Though Kerala now can boast of a multicultural population, back then, I was the only Bengali in Thrissur. Just to speak in Bengali, I had to drive down to Ernakulam,” recalls Pallavi, the artistic director of Lasya Akademi of Mohiniyattam which has schools in Thrissur and Kolkata.   

Now, Malayalam comes to her at ease, words flowing musically like the graceful moves of her onstage persona. The effort she took was earnest and tremendous. “I learned that to know an artform, knowing the root – the culture and language – is very important. And I changed myself, starting internally. I am glad that I got to know the culture and language by choosing my medium of expression, Mohiniyattam. I needed help at first, to understand the poetry of padams.” From learning to read and write, she went on to become an expert in padams, making it possible for her to explain anything and everything to her students from across the globe whom she trains under the traditional guru-shishya parampara, in discipline even while letting them explore their creative realms.

Mohiniyattam got her close to many great gurus and scholars and helped her enrich her knowledge in dance and literature. She could interact with many scholars and exponents like Kavalam Narayana Panicker, with whom she produced her very first choreography. It was in Kerala she found her love in K.K. Gopalakrishnan, an art critic and a banker. Marriage made her more motivated, and continued training under her gurus Bharati Shivaji and Kalamandalam Sugandhi, and became well-versed in adavu and abhinaya, the quality of which stands out in her amazing portrayals. Soon, Pallavi proved her versatility at international level as a leading Mohiniyattam exponent, choreographer and trainer, wooing the hearts of both critics and stalwarts.

She owes it all to the distinctive culture of Kerala and its classical dance tradition. “Compared to Bengal, Kerala is culturally very rich. Back home, we have Baul, Rabindra Sangeet and folk music, there’s no classical dance tradition. But Kerala has rich classical dance forms that date back to over 2000 years – Koodiyattam, Kathakali, Mohiniyattam, Theyyam, Mudiyettu, Sopanam… Here, the culture and society are amalgamized as most of those are temple art forms. There’s the edakka and sopanasangeetham, the only performance inside the temple, before the sanctum sanctorum…  I was awestruck,” says Pallavi, who’s fellowship subjects are choreographies based on Ashtapadis.  

As she recalled many socio-economic changes in Kerala over the decades, she also observes that the state is highly patriarchal. “Just have a look at the tradition. At Bengal, power is Durga. All the women are Durgas, women are very powerful there. But here, it’s Krishna, and women are not that powerful. As you can see, Kerala’s is a male-dominated society.”  

As someone who is uncompromising in her learning and tutoring, Pallavi has attracted a huge following of fans and disciplines globally. She shuttles between Kolkata and Thrissur training students, conducting workshops, holding classes, both directly and over Skype, and performing at times. “I train the traditional Kalamandalam way – first the adavus, then margam, and then the choreography. Only when the foundation is firm that a strong building can be built. I do my part to ensure that in Mohiniyattam. I can see that more people are taking up Mohiniyattam along with Bharatanatyam and Kuchippudi. It’s a positive trend. I can undoubtedly say that for Mohiniyattam, the future is bright,” she concludes.

Published in the March 2022 edition of Malayalam Literary Survey

സാറാസ്: കുട്ടികൾ വേണ്ട എന്ന് ഒരു സ്ത്രീ തീരുമാനിച്ചാൽ സംഭവിക്കുന്നത്

 ‘സാറാസ്’ ഒരു ഗംഭീര സിനിമയൊന്നുമല്ല, പൊരുത്തക്കേടുകളും വിശ്വാസയോഗ്യമല്ലാത്ത സന്ദർഭങ്ങളും ഏറെയുണ്ട്. എന്നിരുന്നാലും reproductive rights എന്ന ഗൗരവകരമായ വിഷയം ചർച്ച ചെയ്യുന്ന സിനിമ എന്ന നിലയ്ക്ക് ഒരു നല്ല തുടക്കമാണ്. ചർച്ചകളും ചിന്തകളും തിരുത്തലുകളും ഉണ്ടാക്കാൻ ആകുമെങ്കിൽ, പോരായ്മ പരിഹരിച്ച് ഇത്തരം സിനിമകൾ തന്നെയാണ് ഇനിയും ഉണ്ടാകേണ്ടത്.

ഒരു കറി പൗഡർ കമ്പനിയുടെ പേര് എന്തിനായിരിക്കും തന്റെ മൂന്നാമത്തെ ചിത്രത്തിന് ജൂഡ് ആന്തണി ജോസഫ് തിരഞ്ഞെടുത്തത് എന്നാണ് 'സാറാസ്' എന്നുകേട്ടപ്പോൾ ആദ്യം തോന്നിയത്. ഫസ്റ്റ്‌ലുക്ക് പോസ്റ്ററിൽ ഒരു മത്തങ്ങ കൈയ്യിലേന്തി നിൽക്കുന്ന അന്ന ബെന്നിനെ കണ്ടപ്പോൾ ഓർത്തതും What's cooking എന്നാണ്. പക്ഷെ സാറയുടേത് എന്നർത്ഥം വരുന്ന സാറാസ് സംസാരിച്ചത് മുഴുവൻ ഒരു സ്ത്രീയെക്കുറിച്ചാണ് - അവളുടെ അവകാശങ്ങൾ, സ്വപ്നങ്ങൾ, സന്തോഷം, അവളവളെക്കുറിച്ചുള്ള (പ്രയോഗത്തിന് കടപ്പാട് മറ്റൊരു സാറയോട്, സാറ ടീച്ചറോട്) തീരുമാനങ്ങൾ എന്നിവയെക്കുറിച്ചാണ്. ഒരു പ്രോ-ചോയ്‌സ് സിനിമയാണ് സാറാസ്; ഗർഭധാരണത്തിൽ ഒരു സ്ത്രീയുടെ ചോയ്‌സ് എന്ന വിഷയമാണ് സിനിമയെ വേറിട്ടതാക്കുന്നത്.

പ്രത്യുത്പാദനവുമായി ബന്ധപ്പെട്ട തീരുമാനങ്ങളിൽ മലയാള സിനിമ സ്ത്രീകളെ പാട്രണൈസ് ചെയ്തു കണ്ട ശീലമില്ല നമുക്ക്. ഗർഭച്ഛിദ്രത്തെ കൊലപാതകമായും അമ്മ/അച്ഛൻ ആകാതിരിക്കൽ ക്രൈമും ആയാണ് സ്‌ക്രീനിലും പുറത്തും കണ്ടുപോരുന്നത്. എന്തിന്, പാരൻറിങ്​ എന്നതിന് തത്തുല്യമായ ഒരു വാക്ക് പോലുമില്ല ഭാഷയിൽ.

1985ലെ 'അവിടത്തെപ്പോലെ ഇവിടെയും' എന്ന സേതുമാധവൻ ചിത്രത്തിൽ പ്രസവിക്കേണ്ട എന്ന തീരുമാനത്തെത്തുടർന്ന്  ഗർഭനിരോധനഗുളിക ഉപയോഗിക്കുന്ന നീലിമ പ്രതിനായികയാണ്. 2009ലെ  അക്കു അക്ബറിൻറെ 'കാണാക്കണ്മണി' എന്ന ചിത്രത്തിൽ ഭ്രൂണം പ്രേതമായി വന്ന് തന്നെ നശിപ്പിച്ച മാതാപിതാക്കളെ വേട്ടയാടുകയാണ്. എന്നാൽ 2018ലെ അന്താരാഷ്‌ട്ര ചലച്ചിത്രമേളയിൽ പ്രദർശിപ്പിച്ച നദീൻ ലബാക്കിയുടെ ലെബനീസ് ചിത്രം 'കാപ്പർനോ'മിൽ തൻ്റെ മാതാപിതാക്കൾക്ക് ഇനിയും കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങൾ ഉണ്ടാകരുത് എന്ന് കോടതിയിൽ ആവശ്യപ്പെടുന്ന പന്ത്രണ്ടുകാരനായ സെയിനിനെ വലിയ കരഘോഷം കൊണ്ടാണ് മലയാളി സിനിമാ ആസ്വാദകർ എതിരേറ്റത്. കഴിഞ്ഞ ദിവസം ആമസോൺ പ്രൈമിൽ റിലീസ് ചെയ്ത സാറാസിലെത്തുമ്പോൾ ശരി-തെറ്റ് ചർച്ചകൾ തീരുന്നില്ല. തനിക്ക് കുട്ടികൾ വേണ്ട എന്ന തീരുമാനം ചെറുപ്പം മുതൽ തന്നെ കൈക്കൊണ്ടിട്ടുള്ള നായികയെ സെയിനിനെ ആശ്ലേഷിച്ചയത്ര സ്നേഹത്തോടെയല്ല കേരളം എതിരേറ്റത് എന്ന് കാണാം. കാരണം, സാറാസ് പ്രധാനമായി ചർച്ച ചെയ്യുന്നത് മലയാള സിനിമയുടെ ഇന്നേ വരെയുള്ള ചരിത്രത്തിൽ സ്റ്റിഗ്മറ്റയിസ് ചെയ്ത് അവതരിപ്പിക്കപ്പെട്ടിട്ടുള്ള രണ്ടു പ്രധാന വിഷയങ്ങളാണ് -- പ്രത്യുത്പാദനസ്വയംനിർണയാവകാശവും റെസ്പോൺസിബിൾ പാരന്റിംഗും. രണ്ടും കണ്ടും ശ്രമിച്ചും പരിചയമില്ലാത്ത മലയാളി ഞെട്ടൽ സ്വാഭാവികം!

മാതൃത്വത്തെ കാല്പനികവത്കരിച്ചും പ്രകീർത്തിച്ചും ശീലിച്ച, 'എല്ലാവർക്കും ഉണ്ടല്ലോ, അതുകൊണ്ട് ഞങ്ങൾക്കും' എന്ന കാരണം കൊണ്ട് മാത്രം procreate ചെയ്യുകയും ചെയ്യുന്ന ആളുകൾക്കിടയിലേക്കാണ് തിരക്കഥാകൃത്തായ അക്ഷയ് ഹരീഷ് സാറയുടെ കഥ പ്ളേസ് ചെയ്യുന്നത്. തൻ്റെ ആദ്യ സംവിധാന സംരംഭത്തിന്റെ ഒരുക്കവുമായി ബന്ധപ്പെട്ട ഗവേഷണവും ലൊക്കേഷൻ-നിർമാതാവ് അന്വേഷണവുമായി നടക്കുന്ന ഇരുപത്തിയഞ്ചുകാരിയായ സാറയുടെ ആദർശങ്ങളും വീക്ഷണങ്ങളും ചുറ്റുമുള്ളവരുമാണ് സിനിമയിൽ. തൻ്റെ ത്രില്ലർ മോഡിലുളള ചിത്രത്തിനായുള്ള ഗവേഷണത്തിനിടയിൽ കണ്ടുമുട്ടുന്ന ജീവൻ (സണ്ണി വെയിൻ) തന്നെപ്പോലെ കുട്ടികൾ വേണ്ടെന്ന തീരുമാനത്തിലാണ് എന്നറിഞ്ഞ ശേഷം അവർ പ്രണയത്തിലാകുന്നു. തൻ്റെ ആദ്യസിനിമാസ്വപ്നം പൂർത്തീകരിക്കും മുമ്പ് വിവാഹജീവിതത്തിലേക്ക് പ്രവേശിക്കുന്ന ഇരുവരും ആദ്യ ആഴ്ച തന്നെ നേരിടുന്നത് വലിയ സമ്മർദ്ദമാണ്. മതം, നാട്ടുനടപ്പ്, സന്തോഷം എന്നീ conditioned പൊതികൾ കൊണ്ടുമൂടി അവളുടെ cool dad (ബെന്നി പി നായരമ്പലം) ഉൾപ്പടെയുള്ള ബന്ധുക്കൾ സാറയെ പ്രസവത്തിന്റെ ആവശ്യകതെയെപ്പറ്റി  'ബോധവത്കരിക്കാൻ' ശ്രമിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്. അവളോടൊപ്പം നിൽക്കുന്ന ജീവൻ പിന്നീട് ഈ തീരുമാനത്തെച്ചൊല്ലി സഹപ്രവർത്തകർക്ക് മുന്നിലും അമ്മയുടെ (മല്ലികാ സുകുമാരൻ) മുമ്പിലും തൻ്റെ 'പൗരുഷം' ചോദ്യം ചെയ്യപ്പെടുമ്പോൾ പതറുന്നുണ്ട്. ഓർക്കാപ്പുറത്തുണ്ടാകുന്ന ഗർഭം സാറയെ തൻ്റെ തീരുമാനത്തിൽ ഉറച്ചു നിൽക്കാനും  ജീവനെ പുനർവിചിന്തനം നടത്താനും പ്രേരിപ്പിക്കുന്നു. 

'അടുത്ത അഞ്ജലി മേനോൻ' എന്ന് വിശേഷിപ്പിക്കപ്പെടുന്ന സാറ അവളുടെ ശരീരത്തിന്റെ അവകാശികളും സംരക്ഷകരും അവളൊഴികെ മറ്റെല്ലാവരും ആണെന്ന് തിരിച്ചറിയുന്നു. ഒപ്പം, ഒരു accidental pregnancy അഥവാ contraceptive failure ദൈവഹിതമായും കുടുംബത്തിന്റെ സന്തോഷമായും കാണുന്നവർക്കിടയിൽ സാറ തന്റെ സന്തോഷം ആരുടേയും താല്പര്യമല്ല എന്നും. യഥാർത്ഥ പരിസരങ്ങളിൽ അപൂർവങ്ങളിൽ അപൂർവമായ ഒരു ഗൈനക്കോളജിസ്റ്റ്  (സിദ്ദിഖ്) സിനിമയിലുണ്ട്. തന്റെ ശരീരം തന്റെ മാത്രം അവകാശമാണ് എന്ന് സാറയോട് വ്യക്തമാക്കുന്ന , ഉത്തരവാദിത്വപ്പെട്ട ചുമതലയായ parenting വളരെ ആലോചനയും ചർച്ചകളും ഒരുക്കങ്ങളും വേണ്ടുന്ന ഒന്നാണ് എന്നും, അതിനുള്ള മനസ്സോ ടാലന്റോ ഇല്ലെന്ന് ബോധ്യമുള്ളവർ സമ്മർദ്ദത്തിന് വഴങ്ങി മോശം രക്ഷാകർത്താക്കളായി മാറരുത് എന്നും ഡോക്ടർ പറയുന്നുണ്ട്. 

വിവാഹം, പ്രസവം, ജോലി, കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളെ പരിപാലിക്കൽ, പ്രസവം നിർത്തൽ എന്നിവയിലെല്ലാം സമൂഹം നിഷ്കർഷിക്കുന്ന അലിഖിത നിയമങ്ങൾ കാലങ്ങളായി പാലിച്ചു പോരാൻ നിര്ബന്ധിക്കപ്പെടുന്ന സ്ത്രീകൾക്ക് തങ്ങളുടെ ബോധ്യങ്ങളെ നിലനിർത്താൻ ഉള്ള തടസ്സങ്ങൾ ധാരാളമാണ്. ഒരു സ്ത്രീ കുട്ടികൾ വേണ്ട എന്ന നിലപാട് സ്വീകരിക്കുമ്പോൾ അതവളുടെ സ്വാർത്ഥതയായും 'മറ്റേ ഫെമിനിസ'മായും വ്യാഖ്യാനിക്കുന്ന സമൂഹം അവളെ ഒരു social trapലാക്കുകയാണ്. അതിൽ വീഴാതിരിക്കാനുള്ള സാറയുടെ ശ്രമങ്ങളാണ് സിനിമയിൽ. Shared responsibilityകളിലൂടെ ജീവിതത്തിൽ തുല്യത പുലർത്തുന്നു എന്ന് കരുതുന്ന ജീവന് മുമ്പിൽ പ്രത്യുൽപാദന അവകാശം ഇല്ലാത്തയിടത്ത് തുല്യതയില്ല എന്നും തൻ്റെ സന്തോഷവും പ്രധാനമാണ് എന്ന് സാറ അടിവരയിടുന്നു. താൻ ജീവിച്ചു തീരുമ്പോൾ തൻ്റെ കാലം അടയാളപ്പെടുത്തേണ്ടത് തന്റെ കലയിലൂടെയാണ് എന്നും കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളിലൂടെയല്ല എന്നും സാറയ്ക്ക് വ്യക്തതയുണ്ട്. 

ജൂഡിന്റെയും അക്ഷയുടെയും ഈ ചിത്രത്തിൽ മറ്റു മേഖലകളിൽ പ്രശസ്തരായ ചിലരെ നടീനടന്മാരായി കാണാം -- പ്രശാന്ത് നായർ IAS, അവതാരക ധന്യാ വർമ്മ, ഒതളങ്ങാത്തുരുത്തിലൂടെ പ്രശസ്തനായ അബിൻ ബിനോ, തുടങ്ങിയവർ. ഓരോ സിനിമ കൊണ്ടും അതിശയിപ്പിക്കുന്ന അന്നയുടെയും മല്ലികയുടെയും സിദ്ധിഖിൻറെയും മികച്ച പ്രകടനങ്ങൾക്കിടയിൽ അല്പമെങ്കിലും പിടിച്ചു നിൽക്കുന്നത് സണ്ണി വെയിനാണ്. നിമിഷ് രവിയുടെ ദൃശ്യങ്ങൾ, ഷാൻ റഹ്മാൻറെ ഈണങ്ങൾ എന്നിവ കഥ പറച്ചിലിനെ സഹായിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്.  

പ്രത്യുത്പാദനസ്വയംനിർണയാവകാശത്തിനു പുറമെ സിനിമയിൽ പറഞ്ഞു പോകുന്ന വിഷയങ്ങളിൽ തൊഴിലിടത്തിലെ ലിംഗവിവേചനം, കുടുംബത്തിലെ സ്ത്രീകൾക്ക് പുരുഷന്മാർ 'അനുവദിച്ചു കൊടുക്കുന്ന സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യം' എന്നിവ പ്രത്യക്ഷമായി കാണാമെങ്കിലും പല രംഗങ്ങളും mansplainingലും വൈരുധ്യങ്ങളിലും ഉടക്കി നിൽക്കും. 'ഞാനില്ലെങ്കിൽ കാണാമായിരുന്നു' എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞും പറയാതെയും സാറയുടെ സ്വപ്നങ്ങളുടെ പങ്കു പറ്റുന്ന ആണുങ്ങൾ, വിവാഹം കഴിക്കാൻ മകൾക്ക് ആറു മാസത്തെ deadline കൊടുക്കുന്ന അച്ഛൻ...  

പല തരം ദമ്പതികളെ സിനിമയിൽ കാണാം -- എല്ലാവർക്കും അവരവരുടെ ശരികളും തീരുമാനങ്ങളും ജീവിതവുമുണ്ടെന്ന് കാണാം. കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളെ വളർത്താൻ തന്റെ വിലപ്പെട്ട വർഷങ്ങൾ ത്യജിക്കേണ്ടതില്ല എന്ന് കരുതുന്നവരും, 'കഴിവ്' തെളിയിക്കുന്നവരും, കർത്താവ് തരുന്നത് കൈനീട്ടി വാങ്ങുന്ന ഭർത്താവും, കുട്ടികളുടെ പരിചരണത്തിൽ ആനന്ദം കണ്ടെത്തുന്നവരും, ജോലിയും വീടും ഒരുമിച്ച് കൊണ്ടുപോകാൻ പാടുപെടുന്നവരും, ജോലിയ്ക്കു പകരം കുടുംബം മതിയെന്ന ചോയ്‌സ് മാത്രം ആയിപ്പോയവരുമെല്ലാം ഉണ്ട് സാറാസിൽ. സിനിമയുടെ പക്ഷം പക്ഷെ സാറയുടേതാണ്.      

അത്യന്തം സെൻസിറ്റിവ് ആയ ഒരു വിഷയം നാടകീയതയും വൈകാരികതയും ഇല്ലാതെ പറയാൻ ശ്രമിക്കുന്നുണ്ടെങ്കിലും ഒന്നാം പകുതിയിലെ ഒതുക്കം പതുക്കെ നഷ്ടപ്പെടുന്നതായും തോന്നി. മെട്രോ നഗരത്തിൽ സുഖലോലുപതയിൽ ജീവിക്കുന്ന സാറയുടെ കഥ ഒരു privileged classൻറെ പരിച്ഛേദം ആയിട്ടാണ് കാണാനാവുക. Tail end പാക്കേജിലെ കഥാപാത്രങ്ങളെ തമാശരൂപേണ അവതരിപ്പിച്ചതും വിഷയത്തിന്റെ ഗൗരവത്തിൽ വിള്ളൽ ഉണ്ടാക്കിയതായി തോന്നി. ഒറ്റവിഷയത്തിൽ ഊന്നിയുള്ള കഥപറച്ചിലിൽ വലിച്ചുനീട്ടൽ അനുഭവപ്പെട്ടു. പലയിടങ്ങളിലും നറേറ്റിവ് അത്ര convincing ആയിരുന്നില്ല. എത്ര സൗകര്യപൂർവമാണ് സാറയുടെ തീരുമാനങ്ങളെ ഒടുക്കം എല്ലാവരും ശരി വയ്ക്കുന്നത്. യഥാർത്ഥജീവിതത്തിൽ അത്രയും തിരിച്ചറിവുകളുള്ള നന്മ നിറഞ്ഞ മനുഷ്യരുണ്ടായിരുന്നെങ്കിൽ എത്ര നന്നായേനെ! 

സാറാസ് ഒരു ഗംഭീര സിനിമയൊന്നുമല്ല, പൊരുത്തക്കേടുകളും വിശ്വാസയോഗ്യമല്ലാത്ത സന്ദർഭങ്ങളും ഏറെയുണ്ട്. എന്നിരുന്നാലും reproductive rights എന്ന ഗൗരവകരമായ വിഷയം ചർച്ച ചെയ്യുന്ന സിനിമ എന്ന നിലയ്ക്ക് സാറാസ് ഒരു നല്ല തുടക്കമാണ്. ചർച്ചകളും ചിന്തകളും തിരുത്തലുകളും ഉണ്ടാക്കാൻ ആകുമെങ്കിൽ, പോരായ്മകളെ പരിഹരിച്ച് ഇത്തരം സിനിമകൾ തന്നെയാണ് ഇനിയും ഉണ്ടാകേണ്ടത്.    

Published in Truecopy Think on July 8, 2021

Reporter, Truth-Seeker, Family Man: The Siddique Kappan You Don’t Know

For 235 days, Malayalam journalist Siddique Kappan has been in a UP prison, charged with sedition and conspiracy to incite violence. The UP Police claim he is not a journalist, only posed as one while raising funds for terror. But over a decade of reporting, Kappan’s journalism tells a different story

Malappuram: It was 13 May 2021, Eid ul Fitr, the auspicious day after the sighting of the crescent moon that marks the culmination of a month of fasting during the holy Ramzan period.

As others in the lush, idyllic village of Poocholamadu, Vengara, in this northern Kerala district began their feasts and prayers, 37-year-old homemaker Raihanath and her three children, aged 17,13 and eight, sat quietly in their half-built, desolate home. Khadija, 90 years old and on her deathbed, waited for a glimpse of her son ‘Bava’, who the rest of the world knows as Siddique Kappan, 42, a Malayalam journalist in jail in Uttar Pradesh for 235 days now, eight months.

Kappan, a full-time reporter on retainer with the Malayalam news portal Azhimukham, was detained on 5 October 2020, by the Uttar Pradesh (UP) police while he was on his way to Hathras, in western UP, to report on the gangrape-murder of a Dalit girl.

Kappan is now accused under four sections of the Indian Penal Code, 1870, two sections of the Information Technology (IT) Act, 2008, and three sections of the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA), 1967, charges relating to terrorism, outraging religious feelings, conspiracy and sedition.

The bespectacled, bearded Kappan was incarcerated in the Mathura district jail. According to the UP police chargesheet, Kappan “posed” as a journalist from Thejas, a defunct Malayalam daily that served as a mouthpiece of the Popular Front of India (PFI), a radical Islamist outfit. The UP police suspect the PFI of stoking violence during the protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019 (CAA) across the state. The UP Police has demanded that the PFI be banned.

Over more than a decade as a journalist, Kappan reported on current affairs, crime and politics. He reported from Delhi, Kerala and the Middle East, and wrote features for many Malayalam media outlets, such as Thejas, Thalsamayam and Azhimukham, both as a staffer and a freelancer.

The subjects of the stories he wrote included: riots in Northeast Delhi in February 2020, an interview of lawyer-activist Prashant Bhushan, the NRC Act in Assam, a Pakistani octogenarian separated by Partition tracing her roots in India, Urdu Malayali poet Syed Mohammad Sarwar and jailed professor G N Saibaba.

A computer engineer who was a teacher in a school in his hometown Vengara and later spent nine years in Saudi Arabia looking for greener pastures, Kappan returned home in 2011 when his father passed away. He decided to stay back to take care of his family and pursue, for the first time as a professional, his passion for journalism. After working on the news desk of Thejas in Kerala for some time, he moved to the paper’s Delhi bureau as a reporter.

According to the Free Speech Collective’s research paper ‘Behind Bars: Arrest and Detention of Journalists in India 2010-20’, 154 Indian journalists have faced arrest, detention, interrogation and show-cause notices between 2010 and 2020 for doing their job, and three of them—Kappan and Aasif Sultan (The Kashmir Narrator), who are in custody, and Prashant Rahi, who is sentenced to life imprisonment—were charged under the UAPA. States ruled by the BJP account for a large percentage of criminal cases against journalists; over 40% of the instances in 2020 alone.

A Decade Of Reporting

According to Raihanath, even during the nine years that he lived in Saudi Arabia, Kappan would write interviews and features for Malayalam dailies and magazines, including Malayalam News and Prasadhakan.

Over the phone from Delhi in later years, the couple would speak about his day, his work, the people he interviewed, and Kappan would sometimes express concern about the people he met who were in distress.

“When news of the Hathras incident broke, he was very emotional,” said Raihanath. “That girl was only a couple of years older than our son, he would say.” Their oldest son is 17, the Hathras victim was 19.

Kappan told her during one of his calls from prison later that he was trying to visit Hathras to talk to her family and file a story from there. He told her that he had hitched a ride in a car with a few students who were on their way to Hathras.

Kappan had worked as the Delhi reporter of Thejas daily until they shut down in 2018. Subsequently, he worked for daily newspaper Thalsamayam till November 2019, after which they also closed down due to financial constraints. Since January 2020, he had been reporting for Azhimukham. A press identity card issued by Thejas was still in his laptop bag, and he also carried an identity card issued by the Delhi Press Club. Kappan is also an office-bearer of a journalists’ trade union, of which he is a former secretary.

Journalist KN Ashok, who was the editor of Thiruvananthapuram-based Azhimukham at the time of Kappan’s detention, recalled him as a seasoned journalist who knew his job.

He said Kappan was a regular contributor for them from Delhi, and “knows where he can find news”. Ashok said Kapppan had shown “genuine interest” in matters that affect people. He wrote about the Covid pandemic affecting migrant labourers, nurses, students, mediapersons and those engaged in sex trade, the anti-CAA protests, violence in Northeast Delhi, interviewed Tablighi Jamaat head Maulana Saad, lawyer-activist Prashant Bhushan, Delhi University professor G N Saibaba, political leaders K Muraleedharan and M K Raghavan and Malayalam writer Echmukutty, among others.

It would have been natural for Kappan to jump at an opportunity to go to Hathras, Ashok said. He texted Azhimukham desk around midnight of 4 October that he was headed to Hathras. The next evening, they tried to contact him to ask about the status of his report, but he couldn’t be reached. It was only later that they found out about the arrest.

On 6 October, Ashok, representing Azhimukham, filed an affidavit in the Supreme Court along with KUWJ to filed an affidavit in the Supreme Court to establish the credibility of Kappan’s journalistic career. In his affidavit, he said that Kappan is a retainer and a full-time contributor with Azhimukham and that he is a member of the Press Club and the Kerala Union of Working Journalists (KUWJ).

After the UP police and the Enforcement Directorate claimed that Kappan and others in the vehicle had links with the PFI and its student wing Campus Front of India, and accused them of money laundering to the tune of Rs 100 crore and conspiracy to incite violence, the PFI denied any link with Kappan and those named in the chargesheet.

Raihanath said the claim by the UP Police and the ED that Kappan was raising funds for the PFI was false. “If so, would he carry ID cards?” she asked. “Had he been receiving funds, would we be living like this?” Their home is still under construction even after eight years; a brick-and cement-house that is not fully plastered.

One of Kappan’s last published features in Azhimukham was an interview of Jenny Rowena, PhD, wife of Delhi University professor Hany Babu, arrested by the National Investigation Agency in the Elgaar Parishad-Bhima Koregaon case. Hany Babu,imprisoned after being accused of Maoist links, like Siddique, is currently knocking on the doors of courts for fair medical treatment.

To ensure that Kappan gets a fair trial, the Delhi unit of the KUWJ, of which Kappan is secretary, filed a habeas corpus plea on 6 October. The petition, which was supposed to be disposed of on 9 March, 2021, has not been disposed of yet though it was listed seven times.

PK Manikandan, a close friend of Kappan and a member of KUWJ, called the accusation of a PFI link “ridiculous”. He said a journalist who works for a media house need not believe in its politics. “At Thejas, Kappan was an employee who got paid for his job. In fact, Kappan is someone who has written a critical piece on the PFI later.”

Kappan at a protest organised by the Kerala Union of Working Journalists.

In February, Kappan was granted a conditional five-day bail to meet his mother. Senior counsel Kapil Sibal, representing the KUWJ in the SC, argued that the case pertained to a ‘matter of personal liberty’, referring to the case of Republic TV editor-in-chief Arnab Goswami, who was granted bail within a week of his arrest on grounds of personal liberty in a case of abetment to suicide. The SC observed on 2 December, 2020 while granting bail to Goswami that ‘every case is different’.

Chained To Cot, Given A Bottle To Urinate

Kappan, a chronic diabetic for more than 15 years, must have insulin twice a day. The food in Mathura jail caused him to suffer digestive problems, leading him to survive on cucumber and curd, even during Ramzan, the month of fasting.

He was lodged in an overcrowded cell with almost 75 inmates and one bathroom. Jail authorities would let him call home once in a while. During one of his calls home in April, he told his wife that over 50 prisoners in the prison were Covid positive.

On 21 April, Kappan, who had been suffering from diarrhoea, body pain and fever for a few days, collapsed in the bathroom and suffered injuries to his chin and leg. Police then took him to the Medical College Hospital in Mathura, where he tested positive for Covid-19.

On 24 April, he managed to call Raihanath from the hospital, using somebody else’s phone. “Only then did I learn that he was chained to a cot and was given a bottle to relieve himself,” she said. “How low can people stoop? How can this be endured?” Raihanath recalled that Kappan simply wanted to return to the prison, which was better than being in hospital.

When this news emerged, Kerala Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan wrote to his UP counterpart Yogi Adityanath, seeking expert and humane care for Kappan.

As many as 11 MPs from Kerala, including K Muralidharan, K Sudhakaran, ET Mohammed Basheer, NK Premachandran and PV Abdul Wahab, wrote a joint letter to the Chief Justice of India seeking immediate intervention in the matter. The SC intervened, directing the UP Government to shift Kappan to AIIMS, Delhi, for adequate and effective medical assistance.

Barely a week after moving Kappan to AIIMS on 30 April, the UP police took him back to Mathura jail before recovering and without being allowed to meet his wife and son who waited outside the hospital for seven days.

Kappan with his eight-year-old daughter Mehnaz.

Advocate Wills Mathews, who represents KUWJ, called it “humiliating treatment”.

“Kappan’s wife and son travelled all the way from Kerala, leaving two children, aged 13 and eight, and an ailing mother, hoping to talk to him in person,” he told Article 14.

The mother and son waited for a week, seeking permission from Shailendra Kumar Maitrey, senior superintendent of Mathura district jail. It never came. They visited AIIMS every day, but the police did not even provide information on Kappan’s condition to Raihanath, nor information about his discharge.

In an affidavit in the SC filed on 28 April, the jail authorities said Kappan had tested negative. But on being tested in jail, he tested positive for Covid once again on 2 May.

Raihanath filed a contempt notice against the UP government for non-disclosure of Kappan’s condition in the court. “We fear that this non-disclosure was due to the fear arising out of your statement that Kappan is Covid negative in the affidavit,” it read. There was no response to the notice until the end of May.

Raihanath and her son went to Mathura, hoping to meet him in jail. But all requests were rejected; a representation given to the superintendent was refused citing that “there is no provision in the UP jail manual for the same”.

On 8 May, en route home, Raihanath posted on Facebook, ‘Returning from Delhi, without meeting him... The legal fight will continue, till truth triumphs.’

‘Is Hathras Not In India?’

Senior journalist NP Chekkutty, chief editor of Thejas when it shut down, knew Kappan for years as the latter struggled to keep a job, hit by the financial crisis.

“He was struggling hard for years to build a home and take care of his family. A journalist who has been shuttling between unpaid jobs, someone who had only Rs 200 when arrested, who was on his way sharing a car with three others on his way to work–does he sound like a terrorist?” Chekkutty, who is based in Kozhikode, Kerala, said citizens have the right to travel anywhere in the country.

“Is Hathras not in India?” he asked.

Chekkutty heads the Siddique Kappan Solidarity Forum, an organisation formed by Kappan’s acquaintances to ensure that the issue doesn’t lose steam. Over six months, they have organised online and offline events across Kerala. Chekkutty said the case is a blatant violation of human rights, liberty and press freedom.

D Dhanasumod, a former journalist with Kochi-based channel TV New, who shared his office building in Delhi with Thejas, remembered Kappan as a soft-spoken person with a warm smile. “Kappan is a man who showers everyone with love and would never hurt a fly,” he said. He remembered occasions when they chatted for hours over tea on Jantar Mantar Road in Delhi, sometimes long after midnight.

Kappan was in a deep financial crisis and, apart from reporting, also undertook translation work and content writing to earn money, said Dhanasumod. “Despite the struggles, he always wears that beaming smile on his face,” he said.

Dhanasumod was an office-bearer of KUWJ and had participated in many protests along with Kappan for better working conditions for journalists and implementation of wage board recommendations.

Kappan’s friends said he had no political affiliation. “None of us ever saw him attending any political event. No organisation is backing him even in this fight,” said Manikandan.

According to Manikandan, proof that Kappan didn’t ‘pose’ as a journalist is that he has a Press Club of India membership and is a member of the Delhi Union of Journalists, a trade union.

Several from social, political and literary circles expressed support for Kappan too.

When the Editors’ Guild of India issued a statement saying it was deeply disturbed by the custodial torture of Kappan, Congress chief Rahul Gandhi and former SC judge Markandey Katju added their voices to the matter.

“Being a journalist and a Muslim is a deadly combination in India,” tweeted Katju, while Rahul promised “full protection and medical support” for Kappan.

Noted journalist P Sainath, in an interview to Madhyamam, a Malayalam daily, said, “The Siddique Kappan case is one of the most outrageous, shameful and unpardonable abuses and action against a journalist that I have seen in 40 years in the profession.”

The KUWJ sees Kappan’s arrest as an issue of democracy and free press. “This plight could fall upon any journalist, any day. Our fight is for the right to work freely,” Manikandan said.

The Fight Continues

On 3 April 2021, the UP Police filed an over 5,000-page-long chargesheet in the Mathura district court last, charging eight persons including Kappan under sections 153(A) (promoting enmity between different groups on ground of religion, race, place of birth, residence, language), 124(A) (sedition), 295(A) (deliberate and malicious acts, intended to outrage religious feelings) and 120 (B) (criminal conspiracy) of the Indian Penal Code, 1860 (IPC), along with Sections 17 (raising funds for terrorist act) and 18 (conspiracy) of the UAPA, and Sections 65 (tampering with computer source documents), 72 (breach of confidentiality and privacy) and 78 (power to investigate offences) of the IT Act.

“All the charges are false, Kappan is framed,” said advocate Mathews. He said the money transactions to which the charge sheet devotes 20 pages are sums of Rs 20,000 and Rs 25,000 received in his bank account in two months—his monthly salary.

Mathews spoke to Kappan in court on the day the charge sheet was filed. He was weak, but confident and fearless. “I am innocent, and hence fearless, Kappan told me,” Mathews told Article 14.

The SC intervention, public interest and the relentless fight by Raihanath have ensured Kappan better facilities in jail.

Kappan recently contacted Raihanath and told her he was better. He was in the isolation ward of the hospital. He needed a dental checkup and his blood sugar levels remained high, but he was reportedly getting better food and regular medicines, including insulin shots.

“They shouldn’t have shifted him from AIIMS without him getting better,” said Raihanath. “They told SC that he was out of Covid, but I can’t believe that a person with serious medical issues would turn negative in six days and again turn positive in another six days after he is lodged back in prison.”

A phone call to the Mathura district jail yielded little information. An official merely said Kappan was in better health. “He is in regular contact with his family and lawyer,” the official told Article 14.

Mathews said he had not been able to contact Kappan in jail, but added that the current focus was on ensuring he stayed alive and healthy. He said they had stalled UP police attempts to take him to Lucknow for scientific tests, insisting that voice sampling, brain mapping, narco analysis, polygraph or any other means of collecting evidence can be done at the CBI headquarters in New Delhi or in Chandigarh but not in UP’s forensic establishments.

Mathew said they feared it would be difficult to protect Kappan if he is taken anywhere other than Delhi for scientific tests. “If a UAPA accused is gunned down by the police saying he tried to escape, we can’t do anything,” he said.

On 25 May, a reminder to their contempt notice was filed as it had yielded no response. On 31 May, Raihanath filed a bail application in Mathura courts before the district judge, an additional district judge and a special judge, citing Kappan’s poor health, his mother’s deteriorating condition, and the lack of evidence against him.

Raihanath confirmed that Kappan tested negative for Covid-19. His mother remains critical. She has developed bedsores and talks little. While she used to ask for him earlier, now she just cries, said Raihanath.

“I can’t tell her about her son, or my husband about his mother’s health,” she said. “It’s painful; I can only pray.”

For Raihanath, the past eight months have been harrowing and testing. When she got married to Kappan, she had been a naïve 19-year-old with no exposure to the real world.

“I knew nothing,” she said. “My world was him and my family. It came crashing down one day.”

Dealing with the legal matters and grief, Raihanath said she could not properly take care of her children’s studies and her ailing mother-in-law. She had to fly to Delhi without knowing the language or the people.

“Long back, when he told me about the condition of (Delhi University professor) GN Saibaba when he interviewed his wife and daughter, he said it hurt to listen to them,” she said. The terror-accused paraplegic professor with 90% disability is serving a life term in a Maharashtra jail.

“I never thought I would experience their agony months later,” said Raihanath. “But I am determined to fight. Whatever happens, I have to free him.”

Published in Article 14 on June 2, 2021