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| Vol. 4, Issue 5 May 2012 |
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Perspectives |
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Culture |
Machaan Ado About Nothing
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| What explains India’s newfound love for South Indian pop culture? |
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Published : 1 January 2012 |
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DELHI PRESS IMAGES |
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| Rajinikanth in Bloodstone (1988). In the 1980s and 1990s, cosmopolites in the
south often mocked him for his pomp.
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S OF MID-DECEMBER 2011, the Tamil viral video hit ‘Why This Kolaveri Di’ (‘Why This Murderous Rage, Girl?’) has been watched more than 28 million times on YouTube; three weeks after its release on 16 November, it was the world’s seventh most popular YouTube clip, sandwiched between Justin Bieber’s ‘Mistletoe’ and Lady Gaga’s ‘Marry The |
Night’. More than 200,000 mobile phone users have now downloaded the song, which has already been remade by amateur artistes in just about every language that figures on the rupee note. The four-year-old son of a fading Bollywood playback singer even has his own suitable-for-children version of ‘Kolaveri’, which is supposed to be the launch pad for his own musical career.
The Economic Times—a dutiful chronicler of Indian triumphs in any field, business or otherwise—gleefully reported that several of the Indian Institutes of Management (IIMs) had begun to conduct academic research on the success of ‘Kolaveri’. IIM Ranchi’s marketing club led the way by organising a seminar to examine the ‘Kolaveri’ “strategy” and the lessons for making an idea successful overnight. When ‘Kolaveri’ hashtags started appearing on Twitter, I surmised it was a clever marketing gimmick from one of the cola manufacturers—and, indeed, when a young colleague of mine checked out drinkify.org, a website that provides dubious recommendations for music-cocktail pairings, someone had already determined the best quaff to accompany your ‘Kolaveri’—(One ounce ouzo on the rocks, garnished with sparklers, if you insist). Several friends in Delhi called me up seeking to know what the lyrics meant, and when I told them, essentially, “nothing”, a few hung up in disbelief and the rest suggested maybe I had just lost touch with my mother tongue after spending a decade in the capital.
In just a few weeks, one of the most execrable songs to come out of a Chennai recording studio had become the new gold standard of Indian popular culture. And you could see it coming.
The surge of interest in the type of southern kitsch that ‘Kolaveri’ represents has been building up for a while. Rajinikanth’s last two films, Sivaji (2007) and Endhiran (2010), may not have set the box office on fire up north, but his personal pan-India popularity is at an all time high—ironically, during the winter of his career. When Virender Sehwag recently hit 219 against West Indies in a One-Day International match to break his compatriot Sachin Tendulkar’s seemingly shatterproof record, The Times of India’s front-page ‘Contrapunto’ feature, which dispenses daily topical wisdom, felt compelled to quip, “If Sachin is God, Sehwag is Rajinikanth.” Even in the south, cosmopolites sniggered at Rajinikanth in his pomp in the 1980s and 1990s. In Tamil Nadu’s more intellectual circles, he’s still regarded as an unquarantined weed that’s destroying local biodiversity.
Charu Nivedita, the author of the bestselling postmodern Tamil novel Zero Degree (1998), has been one of the cultural icon’s harshest critics. Reviewing Rajinikanth’s last film, Endhiran, he wrote that such films were the cultural and social equivalent of the Bhopal gas tragedy. If Nivedita is right, then it would seem that all of India is keen on buying slickly packaged sachets of the cultural variant of methyl isocyanate. Now there are websites and SMS-based services that offer new Rajini-isms every day, some of them so good that the superstar no longer needs his team of writers to think up new ones.
While promoting his latest big-budget pseudo-sci-fi film, Ra.One, Shah Rukh Khan said that the movie was a tribute to Rajinikanth, “the country’s original superhero”. It may have been a clever ploy to expand the market for his films in the south, but it was also an acknowledgment of Rajinikanth as the god of camp, an actor who can spin pure gold from complete corn.
Rajinikanth is hardly the only example. In 1994, MTV popularised Quick Gun Murugan, a fictional character said to have been based on Tamil curry western ripoffs, which were themselves described as a wildly popular phenomenon in the south. (Not many Tamils would even remember watching one, but why let facts spoil a convenient stereotype?) And for some reason known only to his creators, Murugan spoke with a Malayali accent.
Last month, The Dirty Picture, a biopic about the southern siren Silk Smitha, shot to the top of the box-office charts, surpassing even the huge popularity of Bollywood films like Wanted (2009) and the recent Singham (2011), which were themselves first or even second iterations of Telugu and Tamil masala flicks. It may be the case that the success of The Dirty Picture owes more to the universal appeal of smut than to a genuine interest in the tortured and tragic life and death of a southern softcore screen vamp, but Milan Luthria, the film’s director, seemed genuinely obsessed with the gaudy costumes and gym-class dance movements that held sway in the Tamil movies of the era.
It’s hard to situate a precise explanation of the sudden rage for all this kitsch: Does it represent a certain attitude of postmodern sophistication, which cherishes the ability to quote a ragbag of cultural tropes for an amused urban audience? Or the advent of a new need to demonstrate one’s sense of cool in a manner that’s simultaneously desi and metropolitan? Does the Indian middle class want to appear eclectic and knowing in a relaxed way?
R ‘Balki’ Balakrishnan, the creative ace at Lowe Lintas India and a filmmaker who directed Cheeni Kum (2007) and Paa (2009), suggested that the rise of southern kitsch is a sign of an evolving Indian sensibility. (Balki, a diehard fan of Ilaiyaraaja, insisted that the southern music maestro remix his iconic Tamil numbers of the 1980s for Cheeni Kum.) “As people become secure about their own identities, they are confident of engaging with the unfamiliar,” he said.
According to Sadanand Menon, a cultural critic based in Chennai, the phenomenon reflects a desire to engage with a certain side of culture that was hitherto hidden and has now become mockable in an innocuous way. “You don’t want to fully understand the culture, but want to make fun of the stereotypes—much like the sardarji jokes,” Menon said. Stereotypes evolve as well. Referring to Padosan (1968), Menon said, “Earlier, a Mehmood-like character [dark-skinned, sporting a Brahminical tuft, with generous quantities of ash smeared on the forehead], a loud and bumbling man, represented the southern male species. In the 2000s came Quick Gun Murugan, who paved the way for the unacknowledged admiration stemming from an unstated fear of southern superiority—be it economic, technology-related, or even in filmmaking.”
But is it also a sign that Bollywood’s creative reserves are drying up? “These phases do occur. A lot of Bollywood films are borrowing the grammar and language of Tamil and Telugu films, because Bollywood doesn’t have the experience or expertise in bending reality in a spectacular manner. Even when it comes to violence, people don’t want it to be realistic, but funny and spectacular—a bit like animation films,” said Santosh Desai, MD and CEO of Futurebrands India, newspaper columnist and author of Mother Pious Lady: Making Sense of Everyday India. He argues that with the proliferation of the multiplex culture, over the past few years Bollywood could not go as far as southern films when it came to camp. Now, when Hindi filmmakers see a successful formula in the making, they can’t resist plagiarising. It’s a lamentable situation, and hopefully redemption will come soon enough, thanks to the ephemeral nature of passing fads in popular culture. But I can shed no tears.
I must confess to having a rather personal stake here, which might be most simply explained by saying that attending small-town cantonment schools in North India in the 1980s was sometimes a rather traumatic experience for a Tamil kid. My own case had several further complications, beginning with my father’s insistence that I wear the caste mark, the namam—a large U-shaped, sandal-flavoured, quicklime paste on the forehead. It was a particularly visible advertisement for my ‘Madrasiness’, rendering futile the hours I had spent refining my ability to speak Hindi without any trace of a South Indian accent. Bullies had no problem picking me out. A tiffin box which, more often than not, contained mildly stinky curd rice and a strip of citron pickle, diminished any chances of lunchtime bonding with classmates. “Ayyaiyyo!” taunts were more than common. My lot was only marginally better than that of my Sikh classmates, who faced the usual gauntlet of sardarji jokes and the particular torment of being labelled terrorists during the hate-filled 1980s. Being the ‘Other’ was a way of life, and it wasn’t very pleasant. But if what my friends up north now crave is the very basest form of southern culture, I can hardly imagine a sweeter-tasting revenge.
TR Vivek is a Delhi-based journalist.
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Readers' Comments |
Total Comments
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saurabh
15 January 2012
01:27 AM
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I found few of the comments posted here quite disparaging, for one most of the educated North Indians have far clearer english accents than their southern counterparts.
As for mingling of culture it is my personal observation having lived abroad for a number of years that it is the predominantly south indian folks who do not mingle with the citizens there. Its only the 2nd and 3rd generation ABCDs who have now started mingling. Also the general consensus about Indians is that they are black, have heavily accentuated english and eat food with their hands. It is sad but true. I have been mistaken for a Pakistani a number of times because of my fair skin. The stereotypes exists but they exists cos of the way the different cultures of India have spread across the world. People from Andhra and Karanataka have targeted US while Malyalis are in Gulf, Tamils are spread across asia pacific, while Northies (Surds are in canada and UK) with the gujju bhai spread across the world. We are multi-cultural nation, lets appreciate that rather than focusing on the differences all the time.
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SlowGun
14 January 2012
09:16 PM
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This article tries to combine too many disparate phenomena that are not necessarily related to each other, except being connected to the southern film industry. In so doing, it does the very thing that it sets out to criticize.
Kolaveri, while not exactly ground-breaking in its scene-setting - except for the minor twist that the drunk man is now singing in broken Tanglish rather than broken Tamil, hello 21st century! - is at least innovative in its musical arrangement. However inane the non-lyrics are (and isn't that part of the point?), it is catchy and amusing (although the latter might itself depend on the level of inebriation of the listener).
And accepting "The Dirty Picture" as a faithful retelling of Silk Smitha's story is (probably?) a stretch that buys into the marketing of the movie without questioning - it *looks* more Sridevi than Silk, and seems more like a broad and fictionalized take on the sotuh-inflected Hindi films of the 80s (although the film itself makes a point of being about the Tamil film industry). It is of a kind with "filmi" films like Om Shanthi Om, and I suspect we will continue to see more films of this sort - some good, some bad, but you can't accuse these films of not trying to be different.
The films of Rajni, on the other hand, have shown little collective thought since the early 80s. In truth, they are all essentially the same (bad) movie released under different names (with ever-younger heroines). Quite an unflattering comparison for anything or anybody to be compared to Rajnikant's films, which have unfailingly marked the bottom of the barrel in Tamil films for over 25 years. So low is the expectation for a Rajni film that even a moronic film such as Annamalai is touted as being good ("for a Rajni film", they always add - a bit like giving thumbs up to a loud fart because it sounded somewhat musical). "Execrable" does not even begin to describe it. It is completely bizarre that the rest of India seems to be playing along (thankfully, as the article says, in the winter of his career, and may be the reason is that there is little danger of this going on for too much longer). But in the defense of the Tamil film industry, Rajni films have remained somewhat quarantined, and haven't managed to infect other films (too much).
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Shatrughan
12 January 2012
04:33 PM
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I don't know why people concentrating on Northie or Southis issues over and over. If some one is differentiating someone due to skin color or accent then its display weakness of his/her characters. Its true whole world is obsessed with skin color and you can't blame only northies for the same. Regarding Hindi movies and Southis movies, 95 % of Hindi's movies are crap so do southis movies.
Lets enjoy our diverse and colorful country and be grateful that we have lots of options in food, songs and Movies :)
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Dileep MP
12 January 2012
12:08 AM
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ok... the author is pissed off that north indians have a sense of superiority complex over the south..
common buddy, its not as if south indians view the northies with adoration...even though we love the fairer skin tone, south indians have a huge superiority complex over them..("unstated fear of southern superiority???" wht the heck??). . take for instance the north indian stereotype in southern movies... the bumbling sardarji...:P.... And i guess all cultures have this complex...i mean,, we all need to feel good about ourselves, don't we..??
and for the record...I simbly love kolaveri and im a proud south indian...:P
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Riya
6 January 2012
11:57 PM
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How dare you say Sonu's career is fading?!!!
Y is no one objecting this????
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Mos
6 January 2012
06:24 PM
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The only thing good about the Kolaveri video was Shruti Hassan. Nice Article.
I'm quite amazed at the popularity of the Kolaveri song , I'm from the North East (of India, a chinky as we're more commonly know) and I'd be hard pressed to find even five fellow North Easterners who have willingly listened to a Tamil song in its entirety yet this song was such a rage that it was used as the background track to a CHRISTMAS based skit during one of our Christmas celebrations!
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Sonal
6 January 2012
09:37 AM
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this is juvenile. both the derision of kolaveri which is just entertainment and nothing else, as well as the gloating at north indias fondness for it.
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Shan
4 January 2012
03:30 PM
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All north Indians have a feel of pseudo superiority over south Indians. A city boy/girl from Delhi or Luknow see an average black skinned boy/girl working in IT companies in Delhi and Mumbai. The very middle class people from villages of Tamil Nadu and Andhra achieve so easilly whats been called a north indian dream of getting into an IT major due to the superiority of educational system in these states... they speak better English than a metro northy. Northy's their vocabulary ends in naa and achaa… show very bad skills and dedication at work etc... these will give a black skinned southy village boy to overplay them and be their boss... what’s left with them to show their irritation is to just culturally abuse them pointing their colour and food culture... Oh you wanna be North Indians, you are making fool out of you... you are just making stereotypes... My friends from Delhi came to Cochin and almost fainted seeing more number of Audi s and BMWs there... when we made a trip to Munnar, they were searching for a remote village in Kerala and couldn’t find any !!! Go abroad and see how people from southern states are respected there… it wont workout for an average north indian because they are ust not fit to mingle with other cultures… What these wanna be’s are really interested in is some cricket, B grade shopping malls selling Indian Pizzas, Low quality Bollywood movies in all sense and a white skinned girl with an irritating character.
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Roshni
3 January 2012
06:39 PM
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i think its one of those "phases"
Like when the nation was obsessed with all things northie: mustard fields, Khuranas,
Remember the last time the protagonist of a B'wood film was south Indian and did NOT have a south Indian accent? Nope
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Guided By Voices
3 January 2012
03:22 PM
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Someone, somewhere is working on an article on the ubiquity of Santosh Desai quotes.
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daddy_san
2 January 2012
06:57 PM
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Interesting. But.
- Kolaveri and "execrable"? It's a catchy earworm that doesn't claim, or intend to be a loftier classical rendition. And why pick Kolaveri and not Bhag Bose DK? That qualified as a trending earworm with the release of Delhi Belly and had nothing to do with southern kitsch. People bought into Kolaveri because it was an earworm and not because it was South.
- "Bollywood's creative reserves are drying up." and your comment about Hindi filmmakers plagiarising successful trends lead me to believe you have discounted Mithun movies or the mind-bending antics of Kamaal Khan in his Bhojpuri endeavors. Or are they also examples of the rest of India adapting the South without credit or sensibility?
There was always need for an explanation of India's fascination with camp and though this article is a step in the right direction, it comes across as very defensive of the South to the extent of being divisive.
FYI Balki's explanation for the rest of India's fascination with Southern camp is the most plausible and least judgmental.
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