Unnal Mudiyum Thambi
On representation of caste, language based discrimination in Tamil cinema
Recently during my first semester holidays I happened to watch a film called ‘Unnal Mudiyum Thambi’. Directed by K.Balachander and released in 1988, the film is about Udayamurthy, the son (played by Kamalhassan) of a Carnatic maestro Billahari Marthandam Pillai (played by Gemini Ganesan). Though being a reckless happy-go-lucky youth in the beginning, Udayamurthy transforms into a community leader who manages to reform his village to abolish liquor consumption and to inspire his people to adopt socially productive work.
Though the entire film is an endearing watch, what caught my attention was the tension that builds up between the father and their son due to their ideological differences. The father steeped in his old, traditional ways wants to keep up his perceived higher status in society whereas the rebellious son believes that a musician should be sensitive to the condition and needs of the people around him irrespective of their caste or creed.
In one of the scenes of the film as the father-son duo along with the rest are on their way to a music performance session, a blue collared worker is seen writhing in pain on the road after a fall from atop an electric pole. Udayamurthy, the son, wants to help the dying man by taking him to the hospital, while Marthandam Pillai, the father, doesn’t let him do that as he resists travelling with people of lower caste. Unable to overcome his father, Udaymurthy erupts and argues fiercely with his father after returning home. He learns that the man they forsake to help had died. The tension slowly builds to a point where Udayamurthy leaves the house promising to return only after he does something that makes his father proud.
To cut a long story short, Udayamurthy does manage to take on the perils in his village like liquor consumption and unproductive men whiling away their time and finally unites with his father. Though the director might have chosen to bring a ‘cinematic’ end to this story, the film, I believe is a reflection of some of the beliefs, attitudes and practices of people who believe in the supremacy of their own caste/community and the neo-liberal tendency to go beyond it.
The film begins in a kind of utopian world in which the village is shown as a place where there is neither alcohol consumption, nor is public littering allowed in the village. An MP who visits the village — who keeps saying ‘bloody’ in almost every other sentence and says that it’s his habit (Colonial consciousness?) — is surprised by the reformative ways in the village and seeks for the change maker who made this happen. The villagers then lead him to Udayamurthy (Kamalhassan). It is the same MP who later makes sure that Udayamurthy is rewarded by the central government for reforming his village and removing the perils of widespread alcoholism.
While watching the film and during later discussions I got present to the fact that the names of people in South India and more specifically the state from where I hail from — Tamilnadu — have dropped surnames which overtly denote the caste in the last few generations. In ‘Unnal Mudiyum Thambi (UMT), the association between Carnatic music and the high caste status of Brahminism is pretty evident.
I noticed that when Bilahari introduces the Trinity of Carnatic music — Sri Thagaraja Swamigal, Sri Shyama Sastrigal and Sri Muthuswamy Dikshitar, the names of the Carnatic music trinity has surnames which explicitly denote their caste. It is interesting to note that while the character of Marthandam Pillai has an overt caste association, the name of the son — Udayamoorthy — doesn’t have any caste affiliation which in turn reflect their actual attitude towards caste — one of proudly wearing it in his sleeve and other of ignoring and going beyond it. Infact Udayamoorthi is named after the Tamil author and social activist, M.S.Udayamoorthy, who was famous for writing numerous self improvement books in Tamil. It is the name of one of his books ‘Unnal Mudiyum Thambi’ that forms the name of this film.
Discussing about names, an iconic scene from ‘Vedam Pudidhu’ (directed by Bharthiraja, and released in 1987) Carrying an abandoned Brahmin kid, as ‘Balu Thevar’ questions him “Balungradhu unga paeru, pinnaala irukkura Thevarngradhu neenga padichu vaangina pattamaa?” (Balu is your name. Is the surname ‘Thevar’ a degree that you have earned?) I also reflected about the names in my family and observed that while my father’s name and my name have no caste based surnames, my grandfather’s name has a prominent surname which reflect the caste we belong to. Historians believe that it is after the Dravidian movement that happened in Tamilnadu during the 50s and 60s that caste surnames began to drop from the names of the people.
The female protagonist in the film UMT is also worth an analysis. In a film world which has rarely any strong female leads, the character of Lalithakamalam (played by Seetha) comes as a refreshing change. She is portrayed as a strong woman who is strongly opinionated against caste and religion. She goes to the extent of filling her religion as Nil in the application form for a job she applies. The frame in which she is shown has Gandhi in the background alluding to the Mahatma who was pioneer in going beyond caste portrayals reflects her overall stance in support to social reform. May be it takes a strong female lead to play foil to a protagonist who is oriented towards social reform. Though not directly related to the character, it is reminiscent of Sudhamurthy who was denied a job in Tata (and was later accepted) only because she was a woman.
Numerous film historians and critics have analyzed films about such nuances and have written about the same. In the book ‘Cinemas of South India — Culture, Resistance, Ideology’ edited by Sowmya Dechamma C.C. and Elavarthi Sathya Prakash, the representation of linguistic groups in regional cinema is deeply analysed. The book asks if Telugus, Tamils and Kannadigas and Malayalis living close to each other, are they adequately represented in each other’s cinema? Or are these films made in silos which necessarily don’t represent the socio, political and cultural realities. Are the ideas and idioms of people and culture portrayed in the film skewed towards the linguistic group they cater to. Representation of other linguistic groups can be too much of an ask when even films of other language industries are banned from being screened. I have observed that Tamil films are sometimes banned in Bangalore.
It is interesting if you pose yourself the question ‘How many other South Indian language films, other than my own mother tongue films, have I watched?’ Pondering over the question might open up something about cultural preferences. When I asked myself the question, I realized there is only one Kannada film I have watched in my entire film. That too recently — a film called Lucia. Lucia incidentally has created history by being the first film which is co-produced by a bunch of people i.e. the financial resources for the film was crowdsourced
How many Tamil films have characters which are from a Telugu/Kannada region? Or how many films from Tamil have positive/realistic portrayal of Malayalis and their culture? Off the top of my mind I could think of a few Tamil songs which are very Malayalam sounding. And in a few films there are even Malayalam songs as such. I believe that films represent mostly groups and ethnicity which are influential and which are economically successful.
Continuing on the linguistic differences based discrimination, Kattabomman celebrated as a Tamil patriotic hero (there is an eponymous film about Kattabomman acted out by Shivaji Ganesan, one of the legendary actors of Tamil cinema) is in fact a Telugu chieftain. Sometimes place names in Tamilnadu have origins which are rooted in the caste communities living in that region. If we look at the chief ministers of Tamilnadu from 1920 to 1952, eight were Telugus. It would not be surprising if all the caste suffixes disappeared after the 1967 elections when DMK won the elections by a landslide margin. The distinction between the public sphere and the private sphere is so contrasting among the Telugu politicians who are comfortable with Telugu in their homes while they project a fiercely Tamil identity in the outside public sphere. It directly implies that if you want to be successful as a Tamil politician there is no place for a Telugu/Kannada/Malayali ethos projecting politician though you can be one in your home.
I have also been pondering about the question — What is the nature of portrayal of caste in Tamil films? What is the nature of portrayal of linguistic groups in Tamil cinema? Is political representation connected to the linguistic representation in cinema? Political representation of a caste is connected to their presence/representation in Cinema? Have certain castes representation in cinema increased with their rise in political influence or vice versa?
Dravidian politics was founded on a strong anti brahminical spirit. Though it can be considered as an identity politics, it would interesting to look at the portrayal of the Brahminical caste in Tamil cinema. Films and politics are quite connected in the public sphere of South Indian’s life. Sometimes films have served as carriers of loaded political messages from Dravidian leaders like Karunanidhi and MG Ramachandran. The evolution of Tamil cinema is a pointer in this direction. Early Tamil films were majorly mythological but later films catered into social themes. During the 60s and 70s films with ‘family oriented themes’ held sway.
In 2004, before the launch of the film ‘Chandiyar’ by Kamalhaasan there were protests in Tamilnadu that it reflected badly on a particular caste. It is interesting to note that the same actor — Kamalhassan — made a film called ‘Devarmagan’ which has a caste’s name right in the title. The film is also an explicit portrayal of the Devars from the south of Tamilnadu. Though it might not be easy to get away with such a film name in the heavily censored film climate of today’s but Devar magan continues to be an authentic, salt of the Earth portrayal of the Devars without any extra deification/praise.
It is interesting to look at portrayals of caste in Hindi cinema especially in films like Shyam Benegal’s Ankur and Nishant. Off late the Amitabh Bachchan starrer ‘Aarakshan’ which dealt with the themes of reservation quotas for lower caste in India’s educational institutes. The Tamil film ‘Kovilpatti Veeralakshmi’ is about a woman who fights against the unjust ‘untouchability’ prevalent in her village. The role of caste in politics is a well documented one. One of the largest Indian states — Uttar Pradesh — had as its chief minister once — Mayawati, a woman from the Dalit class of the society. She was lauded for being a role model for Indian SC women. On the other end of the spectrum is Phoolan Devi, a bandit from the same state whose life was captured in celluloid by Shekar Kapoor’s ‘Bandit Queen’
The portrayal of upper caste especially the Brahmins also makes for interesting analysis. Tamil Brahmins have been adequately represented in Tamil literary fiction as well as in its cinema. Tamil’s first few novels were ‘Prathapa Mudaliyar Charithram’, ‘Kamalambal charithram’, ‘Padmavathi Charithram’ These novels are about Brahmins living in Madras presidency. Recently Shankar’s film Gentleman and Anniyan, the protagonist roles are played by a Brahmin character who goes on to weed the system of its evils. Incidentally it’s corruption that both these protagonists are fighting again in both the films.
From as early as 1900s even before the seeds of the Dravidian movement were sown, there was fierce opposition to Brahmins who were seen as exploiting a caste hierarchy to their own benefits. During the 1930s these opposition crystallized with the rise of Periyar and the Dravidar Kalagam movement who sought to identify their political identity as strongly anti- Brahmin and anti-hindi.
Mocking Brahminical practices and customs has also been prevalent in the Tamil public sphere. Parasakthi by Shivaji Ganesan has an overt message against the priesthood and the religious god men who mostly hail from the Brahmin caste. Parasakthi which was released in 1952 was a bold and unapologetic ideologic vehicle of the Davidian movement. With screenplay and direction penned by the then DK leader and now DMK leader, M.Karunanidhi, the film caused quite a controversy after it’s release. Though the film didn’t have any pointed anti-Brahminical propaganda, there were scenes which criticized idol worship and of a priest raping a woman which created controversy. Throughout Tamil film history there have been films which have caused controversy in the way they have dealt with religious/caste identities. Da Vinci Code faced resistance before its release in Tamilnadu as Christians in TN believed that the content in the film was objectionable to their beliefs.
There is a common thread between ‘Bharathi Kanamma’, a tamil film released in the year 1997 and directed by Cheran, ‘Kaadhal’ directed by Balaji Shaktivel in 2004 and ‘Subramanyapuram’ directed by Sasikumar and released in 2008. Though these three films are set in different time periods and are about different characters derived from different social milieu, the common thread that prevails is that the protagonist who is a guy from a lower caste falls in love with a girl from a higher caste. The girl in Kaadhal is from the dominant Thevar community in Madurai; the female lead in Bharathi Kannamma belongs to the rich Zamindars also from a Thevar community. Though not explicitly stated, it doesn’t require too much of imagination to see that the male leads in these films are dalits. This is further emphasized by the stark contrast of their complexion. The male lead in ‘Bharathi Kannamma’ is played by Parthiban, while the female lead is played by Meena, an erstwhile Tamil actress.
And sadly the climax in all these films were tragic. In ‘Kaadhal’, the hero is beaten to pulp and later becomes mentally imbecile, to be taken care by her former love interest. In ‘Bharathi Kanamma’, the female lead commits suicide and the male protagonist flungs himself to the funeral pyre in a reference to the Sati practice of olden days.
All these films are nowhere in comparison to the real life violence unleashed after the real world marriage of Divya and Illavarasan also called as the ‘Dharampuri couple’. Divya, a Vanniyar girl and Ilavarasan, a Dalit youth, got married in Dharmapuri. Violence broke out in many villages of Dharmapuri after their marriage took an ugly turn with Divya’s father committing suicide. Under a huge political pressure (said to be from the Vanniyar dominated Pattali Makkal Katchi) the marriage crumbled soon and the pair broke up. Divya is said to have sacrificed the marriage because of a caste obsessed society.
This incident was widely reported in the news presses and bales of print sections were dedicated to the condemning of this atrocious act. The anti-social elements that burnt colonies in Naikkankottai village, the village of Illavarsan’s father, were widely criticized. Though widely condemned it is a stark pointer to the caste discriminations that have run deep in the socio-cultural landscape that is currently prevalent and in both the public and private spheres.
During our class discussions, one of the students proposed that we all take a pledge that we will not let caste be an impediment to our self expression or others, to what we want to do in our life be it choosing your partner or in any other areas of our life. Though many despised the caste discrimination that can be executed by the reservations, when it came to taking a pledge there wasn’t much of a positive response. Also since it was towards the end of the discussion, students were interested in getting out rather than put in some effort and commitment to take the pledge. I take that pledge now.
