The Golden Age - 2

A fair number of us straddle the often-conflicting worlds of personal ambitions and familial expectations. Distance, either emotional or physical, often provides us the opportunity to make our own manner of life, free from prying eyes and judgments. It gives us a safe haven to question our heritage not realizing that somewhere in those archaic rituals lies a portion of our history that will eventually be lost to homogeneity.  But what of those who do not have the luxury of distance? In the Indian social context, external institutions do not impose social mores upon us; they are inextricably intertwined with the relationships that constitute our everyday lives. To question these conventions is to test the strength of the very bonds that define our existence.

Thaniyaavarthanam chronicles the story of Balagopalan, who is pulled into a maelstrom of irrational beliefs purely on account of the value he accords the relationships that thrust these beliefs upon him. Marathempally the once prosperous ancestral home of Balan, an art teacher in small town Kerala, carries a curse. Local legend has it that that the vindictive Bhadrakali smites a male member of the family with insanity in retaliation for the misdeeds of a forefather. The current bearer of the curse, Balan’s uncle Sreedharan, lays locked away in chains in an antechamber of the decaying Naalukettu. The family’s fiscal fortunes are waning from years of Kolam thuLLal rituals in an effort to mollify the goddess. Gopinathan, Balan’s brother, is openly resentful of being burdened with the beliefs of the old guard. Balan, however, remembers Sreedharan’s salad days as a vibrant musician and his failed romance with a doe-eyed neighborhood beauty. So, despite his skepticism and poor fiscal health, Balan continues to indulge the irrational beliefs of Marathempally’s older denizens.

The brothers’ conflicting opinions are an obvious externalization of the internal dilemmas that we all face. Balan, like the wistful among us, continues to carry the cross hoping desperately that he doesn’t crumble under its weight. One night, overwhelmed by compassion, he loosens the chains that bind his uncle only to find him face-first in the house pond the next morning. With Sreedharan’s passing the community begins to search for the next victim of the curse. When Balan’s guilt at precipitating the death of his uncle manifests as a grotesque dream from which he wakes up screaming, he becomes the target for their innuendo. And thus begins his descent into seclusion that results in the loss of his sanity and eventually his life.

Of the films I’ve seen, only Thevar Magan deals with this existential crisis as effectively as Thaniyavarthanam does. Sakthivel Thevar, however, does not passively let the system impose its deficiencies on him. He struggles valiantly to alter them only to have his plans foiled by an accidental blow of the sickle. Here too, a god who is the embodiment of violent anger introduces the instrument of murder to Sakthi. With both films I often find that a grave sense of despair prevents me from watching them in entirety during repeat viewings. It isn’t the tragedy that befalls the protagonists that disturbs me but the implication that the cycle will continue with their progeny. Sakthivel Thevar leaves behind a pregnant wife as the train the bore him to a hero’s welcome carries him away to prison. What fate lies ahead for the as yet unborn child with his sole hope for redemption in a faraway prison? Analogously Thaniyavarthanam leaves us with the image of Balan’s son watching as the Kolam thuLLal artiste channeling the goddess dances around him ominously. It is an image that rankles in my heart to this day.

P.S: An edited version of this post appears in today's Express Buzz. Link