
Everyone knows Raja Bhaiyya, the dreaded don from Uttar Pradesh who earned his first criminal case as a teenager and who has a symbiotic relationship with the prisons either as an inmate or as the minister tasked with running them. But ever heard of Bhaiyya Raja?
A two-term former MLA from the Kama Sutra town of Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh, 66-year-old Ashok Veer Vikram Singh aka Bhaiyya Raja has been an unchallenged don for decades. Arrested for murder in the 1990s, Bhaiyya Raja decided to fight his first election from prison. He won on a not-so-subtle slogan of Mohar lagegi haathi pe, varna goli chhaati pe (Stamp the elephant or take a bullet on your chest), the elephant being his election symbol. On winning, he rode an elephant to the Assembly. The Indian Mafia, a 1991 book, alleged that he used pythons to terrorise women into sexual acts. It was rumoured that he bred crocodiles that grew fat on the flesh of his dead rivals. On 31 May, he was sentenced to life imprisonment for the 2009 murder of a grandniece who he sexually exploited and forced to undergo an abortion. Is his political career over? Yes and no. Bhaiyya Raja’s wife, Asha Rani, is still a BJP MLA, though she is accused of abetting a woman’s suicide at her home six years ago. She is currently free on bail.
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Will The House Be Called To Order?
Can criminals really be kept out of Indian politics

Everyone knows Raja Bhaiyya, the dreaded don from Uttar Pradesh who earned his first criminal case as a teenager and who has a symbiotic relationship with the prisons either as an inmate or as the minister tasked with running them. But ever heard of Bhaiyya Raja?
A two-term former MLA from the Kama Sutra town of Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh, 66-year-old Ashok Veer Vikram Singh aka Bhaiyya Raja has been an unchallenged don for decades. Arrested for murder in the 1990s, Bhaiyya Raja decided to fight his first election from prison. He won on a not-so-subtle slogan of Mohar lagegi haathi pe, varna goli chhaati pe (Stamp the elephant or take a bullet on your chest), the elephant being his election symbol. On winning, he rode an elephant to the Assembly. The Indian Mafia, a 1991 book, alleged that he used pythons to terrorise women into sexual acts. It was rumoured that he bred crocodiles that grew fat on the flesh of his dead rivals. On 31 May, he was sentenced to life imprisonment for the 2009 murder of a grandniece who he sexually exploited and forced to undergo an abortion. Is his political career over? Yes and no. Bhaiyya Raja’s wife, Asha Rani, is still a BJP MLA, though she is accused of abetting a woman’s suicide at her home six years ago. She is currently free on bail.
The pattern finds an echo. Jagmato Devi, a JD(U) MLA in Bihar, had entered politics in 2005 after the murder of her husband. She died suddenly in 2011. As her son, Ajay Singh, is charged in over two dozen cases of murder, kidnapping and extortion, he was denied a ticket. So he advertised for a wife. Only registered voters at least 25 years old and with voter ID cards were shortlisted. He married one of the two finalists a day before nominations began for the by-election to fill his mother’s seat. His wife Kavita, a political naïf, is now a JD(U) MLA. Singh answers her phone and runs her politics.
“The fundamental reason why criminals with money and muscle are able to dominate politics is because no political party has seriously pursued electoral reforms,” admits Congress leader and Information & Broadcasting Minister Manish Tewari. “In the absence of any checks and balances in the system, any and every petty criminal or mafia don finds it to be the most convenient route to the levers of power.” bjp leader and former minister Rajeev Pratap Rudy is more blunt: “After 60 years of experimenting, we have realised that the system is faulty and cannot deliver (clean politics).”
The decades-old scourge of the criminalisation of India’s politics surged to the top of nightly news last week after the Supreme Court (SC) ruled that an MP or members of the states’ Legislative Assemblies or Councils would be unseated immediately if convicted of a crime the Constitution lists as a ground for disqualification. The judges struck down a provision in the Representation of the People Act, 1951, which allowed MPs and MLAs/ MLCs to retain their seats if they appealed their convictions within three months. Ruling on public lawsuits, the judges said the law was inconsistent with two constitutional clauses that barred convicted citizens from contesting elections. If a conviction was good to bar a hopeful, they said, it was good to unseat an incumbent.
Backing the ruling as a step in the right direction, a few jurists, in fact, suggest that MPs and MLAs should be unseated earlier than conviction. “Parliament should be freed of criminals and we know that our criminal justice system is slow,” says former Attorney General Soli Sorabjee. “The fact that they are facing criminal charges in serious offences, say, those carrying imprisonment of three years or more, should be enough to unseat them.”
Agrees former Solicitor General Gopal Subramaniam: “If a court has taken cognisance of charges against a member of the House, he should be unseated.” Adds Gurudas Dasgupta, an MP from the CPI: “The government should make decriminalisation a national priority. There is a nexus of money and power in politics and the government and judiciary have to build safeguards against these.”
But so deep are the tentacles of criminals in politics that few expect the ruling to significantly challenge the mafia might in Parliament and legislatures across the country. Last year, the Association for Democratic Rights (ADR), an NGO that campaigns for electoral reforms, found that 30 percent of about 4,800 MPs and MLAs it investigated faced criminal charges. Of the 403 MLAs who won the Uttar Pradesh Assembly polls last year, as many as 189 — or 47 percent — face criminal charges. A whopping 98 are accused of murder or rape or both. That is nearly one in four of all the UP MLAs. And they belong to the top parties in the state: the SP, the BSP, the Congress and the BJP.
Shockingly, or perhaps not, nearly four in every five of Jharkhand’s 82 MLAs face criminal cases. In Bihar, their percentage is 54, with Chief Minister Nitish Kumar’s JD(U) leading the way and his recently parted ally, the BJP, following a close second. Across the country, nearly one in three of the BJP’s MPs and MLAs have criminal cases against them. The Congress is marginally better at one in five.
How did this state of affairs come to be? Explains Jaskirat Singh, a campaigner with ADR: “For years, Indian politics survived on a code of unwritten ethics. Then, the parties started using organised criminals to capture voting booths to win polls. Later, the criminals decided to ask for the ticket themselves and politicians handed them out on a platter due to the ‘winnability factor’, which means money and power.” So, first the dog wagged the tail, then the tail the dog, and then the tail wanted to be the dog.
States such as Maharashtra, Bihar, Jharkhand and UP are prime examples of the degeneration. Mumbai-based veteran journalist Kumar Ketkar, who has watched elections since the 1960s, says the stranglehold of criminals on politics turned for the worse two decades ago. “The role of money increased in direct proportion to the decrease of huge mass rallies,” he says. Ironically, a key reform opened the floodgates. In 1990, TN Seshan, a retired IAS officer, became Chief Election Commissioner and began exercising his constitutional powers that his predecessors never asserted because they chose to be rubber stamps of the government of the day. In order to rein in runaway expenditure, Seshan began auditing costs such as of the mass rallies.
“The Seshan reforms made mass contact infrequent as every street corner meeting, padyatra and rally came under scrutiny,” says Ketkar. “Candidates began outsourcing their outreach as well as the distribution of propaganda material.” Volunteering disappeared. As candidates had neither enough money nor the network, the mafia came in bringing both for a quid pro quo if the candidate won.
And holier-than-thou pieties notwithstanding, none can avoid the criminal’s embrace. Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi, the BJP’s presumptive prime ministerial candidate for next year’s Lok Sabha election, has yet not sacked his Water Resources Minister Babu Bokhiria who was last month sentenced to three years in prison for illegally mining limestone causing a loss of Rs 54 crore to the original leaseholder. (He won’t be unseated as the SC ruled that those convicted prior to its judgment would be spared.) Cutting across party lines, a co-accused also given three years is a former Congress MP. A father-son gangster duo was also sentenced. In last year’s Assembly polls, the BJP’s Jethabhai Bharwad’s nomination papers showed that he is facing charges of rape, extortion and kidnapping. He won. He was later arrested for firing a gun during the election.
Pradeep Mahto, a goon who became an MLA in Bihar in 2005 as an independent candidate, joined Chief Minister Kumar’s JD(U) before the 2010 election. Among other crimes, Mahto was accused of organising a jailbreak in 2001 to facilitate the escape of an uncle of his. Mahto appeared with Kumar at rallies. Few remembered that a warrant for his arrest was pending. He won. Pawan Jaiswal, an independent MLA who voted in the Assembly for Kumar’s minority government last month after it split from the BJP, stands charged for armed robbery, extortion and beating up officials. Kumar is under pressure now to make him a minister to sustain his government until 2015.
Four months ago, Kshitij Thakur, an MLA from Mumbai, beat up a traffic policeman and then hauled him up at the state Assembly. To the horror of the elected representatives, Thakur and four other MLAs thrashed the policeman for daring to report them. As CCTV footage of their violence made national headlines, the House was forced to suspend the MLAs. In turn, they forced the government to suspend the cop. Thakur’s father, Hitendra is a former Congress MLA who founded his own party. Hitendra and his brother Jayendra aka Bhai Thakur have cases of extortion, criminal intimidation, attempt to murder, murder and land grab against them. Bhai Thakur has been convicted.
“Although the SC ruling is welcome, not much will change unless real electoral reforms to check the influence of money is brought,” says Prashant Bhushan, SC lawyer and transparency activist. He says cash donations, which are allowed up to Rs 20,000 per donor, should be banned. “Currently, parties collect crores of rupees and then claim that hundreds of donors each gave under Rs 20,000.”
To rescue politics from the grip of black money, Atal Bihari Vajpayee set up a multiparty parliamentary committee in 1998, shortly after he became prime minister, to explore State funding of candidates. Headed by the late CPI leader Indrajit Gupta, who was India’s home minister until Vajpayee took power, the committee lamented that its limited remit would only bring “cosmetic” changes. “An immediate overhauling of the electoral process whereby elections are freed from (the) evil influence of all vitiating factors, particularly, criminalisation of politics” was needed, it said, adding that money and muscle power were “sullying the purity” of electoral contests and affecting free and fair elections. Interestingly, the panel included Manmohan Singh.
A year later, the Law Commission, an advisory body of legal experts under the law ministry, recommended that an MP or an MLA charged with an offence punishable with imprisonment for five years or more should be unseated. It said anyone convicted for heinous crimes such as murder, rape, smuggling and dacoity be permanently debarred from contesting for political office. Nothing happened. On 31 May, the 20th Law Commission released a consultation paper on electoral reforms seeking to start a debate on whether a disqualification should trigger upon conviction, as it exists today, or upon framing of charges by the court well before the conviction.
Of course, the political will to bring such reforms has always been missing. As a result, some of India’s political heavyweights have successfully battled career- threatening situations in spite of being enmeshed in criminal and corruption cases. The list includes Tamil Nadu CM J Jayalalithaa, who had to quit in a previous term in 2001 after the SC ruled her appointment as CM illegal as she had been convicted. When the high court acquitted her, she promptly took back the job.
The top leadership of UP, including CM Akhilesh Yadav, his wife, Dimple, and his father, Mulayam Singh Yadav, face the biggest threat from the SC’s 10 July ruling. Cases against them for owning assets disproportionate to their known income are pending in the apex court. A similar case against former CM, BSP president Mayawati, is also underway in the court. Not surprisingly then, SP leader Ramgopal Yadav slammed the judgment for “discrepancies” and announced that he would push the Centre to amend the Constitution to overrule the court. Predictably, Mayawati joined the chorus. The new Jharkhand CM Hemant Soren need look no further than his father, Shibu, a former CM who faces five criminal cases.
Another example of a politician beating the system is that of former Karnataka Forest Minister CP Yogeshwar, who has won Assembly polls for 15 years. In 2010, the Serious Fraud Investigation Office of the Union corporate affairs ministry charged Yogeshwar with corporate fraud and criminal conspiracy for siphoning off funds, forgery and cheating in a 71 crore scam. An inveterate party hopper, Yogeshwar quit the BJP and fought the May election as an SP candidate. He won.
Just what makes the mafia dons acceptable to the voters? “Criminals with community influence cultivate their environment by acquiring a Robin Hood persona,” says I&B Minister Tewari. “In other cases, their sheer ability to terrorise and intimidate while the State remains a helpless onlooker gives them their USP.” Maharashtra’s Industry Minister Narayan Rane is the best poster boy for the influence of muscle and money. Beginning as a gang leader, he quickly caught the eye of Shiv Sena supremo, the late Bal Thackeray. Quite like the gangster politicians of Bihar, Rane is revered among his constituents for distributing free medicines and paying hospital bills. It is said that he would round up bus chassis from scrapyards and send them to his village to build temporary bridges on gorges. He later joined the Congress, and wowed the real estate lobby as the revenue minister.
In Bihar, gangster politicians buy dozens of new motorcycles to gift to bridegrooms during the wedding season. Anant Singh, an MLA of his self-styled Bihar People’s Party, lives in Mokama district but provides for lunch and dinner for about 200 people daily at his official residence in the state capital Patna, 90 km to the west, for his constituents travelling to that city for various errands. Many politicians are quick to lean on hospitals and government offices to speedily meet up the requirements of the needy.
To be fair to the political parties though, the SC judgment runs the risk of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Shiv Sena MP Sanjay Raut says the judgment can result in a misuse by the government. “The Shiv Sena is a party of agitations,” he says. “Often we take to the streets and storm government offices. At such times, our workers are booked under the sections for dacoity, theft, etc.” Agrees NCP leader and Maharashtra’s PWD Minister Chhagan Bhujbal: “I agree that people with serious criminal charges against them should be kept out of politics. But if someone is convicted in a political case, they should not be disqualified.”
A common grouse against the SC ruling is that it doesn’t address the question of what happens if an unseated legislator is eventually found not guilty. “No thought is given to restoration (to the seat in the House) in case a conviction is reversed by way of acquittal,” says Abhishek Manu Singhvi, Congress leader and senior lawyer. Former Chief Justice of India VN Khare says the SC judges who gave the ruling should have instead referred the case to a five-judge constitutional bench. “Finally, it is Parliament that has to take a role in framing the laws with the guidance of the SC to decriminalise politics in the country,” says Khare.
Union Law Minister Kapil Sibal says the ruling leaves grey areas. “If you were to take a position that nobody charged with an offence should enter politics, the systems in place on the ground are such that you can charge people or have them charged through unfair means,” he says. “On the other hand, if you don’t do that then allegations are made that criminals have entered politics.” Sibal says ultimately, the political class needs to come together to evolve a framework so that a person formally charged by a court for a very serious offence is not be allowed to contest. “Now this requires a consensus.”
Some political parties claim they have already begun the process. “As a party from Assam, we have never given tickets to surrendered rebels as they have criminal cases against them,” says Animul Islam, a leader of the fringe party, AIUDF. “We took a policy decision not to give them tickets because that would legitimise a trend of picking up arms and later turning into politicians.”
For the moment, the final word, if there can be one on this subject, goes to the irrepressible former SC judge Markandey Katju. “We are passing through a very difficult, transitional period, from a feudal agricultural system to a modern industrial society,” he says. “The old society is uprooted and we are stuck in the middle. This difficult stage will remain for the next 15-20 years. History shows that only a long-drawn people’s struggle starts the process for reforms.”
With inputs from Ushinor Majumdar, Ashhar Khan, Shonali Ghosal, Nupur Sonar and G Vishnu in New Delhi, Imran Khan in Bengaluru, Nirala in Patna, Virendra Nath Bhatt in Lucknow and Ratnadip Choudhury in Guwahati
All the CM’s Men

Ever since Hindu rioters killed 69 Muslims, including former MP Ehsan Jafri, at his house in Ahmedabad on 28 February 2002, Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi has denied any complicity in that massacre. But Jafri’s widow, Zakia, has now furnished mobile phone records to claim that six of Modi’s close aides visited their neighbourhood, Meghaninagar, just a day before the murderous mob attacked their house.
Last week, Zakia Jafri told a metropolitan magistrate in Ahmedabad that she believed Modi himself visited the area with his aides on 27 February and, during that visit, conspired with Hindu zealots linked to his BJP to carry out the next day’s attack on her apartment in the housing complex named Gulberg Society. As such, she told the magistrate, Modi’s role in the conspiracy behind that attack needs to be investigated.
Anil Mukim, an IAS officer now posted in New Delhi, is the highest-ranking official among the six whose presence is shown in Meghaninagar. Phone records show Mukim (9825049391), who was then additional principal secretary in Modi’s office, visited the area twice on 27 February: first at 3.33 pm, and at 10.01 pm. JM Thakkar (9825037429), the PR officer in Modi’s office, too, was in Meghaninagar at 3.34 pm.
Around 4 pm, both officers had left with Modi for Godhra town, 160 km east of Ahmedabad, where earlier that day a train fire blamed on local Muslims had burnt 57 passengers to death. Most of the dead had been workers of BJP affiliates, the VHP and the Bajrang Dal. Jafri claims that Modi himself had told a Special Investigation Team (SIT), which the Supreme Court had set up in 2009 on Zakia’s petition to probe Modi’s role, that the two officials went with him to Godhra.
The log at Ahmedabad’s airport, quoted in the SIT report, confirms that Modi drove in there earlier from his office in the state capital, Gandhinagar, adjoining Ahmedabad, and flew to Vadodara city in an aircraft chartered from the Reliance Group. From Vadodara, he flew to Godhra in a helicopter of the State-owned Oil and Natural Gas Commission.
“Meghaninagar is not on the route from his office in Gandhinagar to the Ahmedabad airport,” says Teesta Setalvad, a civil rights activist who has worked closely on this case. “It needs to be investigated why Modi went there.”
The other four officials whose presence in Meghaninagar is indicated were Modi’s personal assistants. Records show three of them — OP Singh (9825000836), Sanjay Bhavsar (9825037432) and AP Patel (9825037439) — were at Meghaninagar at 3.48 pm. The fourth, Tanmay Mehta (9825000837), was there until later at 4.01 pm, by when Modi had likely left the location. What were they doing that day so far away from their offices in Gandhinagar?
On his way back, Modi left Godhra by car at 7.45 pm for Vadodara, from where he flew back to Ahmedabad. Mukim was on the plane with Modi. Mukim also joined a meeting Modi called of his ministers, bureaucrats and police officers, at 10.30 pm at his residence. But in between, phone records show Mukim at Meghaninagar at 10.01 pm. Did Modi go to Meghaninagar with Mukim after returning to Ahmedabad? If yes, why? Or did Mukim go to Meghaninagar alone from the airport? If yes, then to what business?
The presence of Modi’s closest aides in Meghaninagar that day is perplexing as the state government has consistently maintained it did not think the area would see any violence as it wasn’t traditionally communally sensitive. Jafri says the SIT erred in not investigating these phone records. “The SIT went out of its way to not probe Modi’s role in the killings,” says Setalvad. “Modi should be tried for the crime.”
ajit@tehelka.com
Fund Me, Maybe

When Kannada filmmaker Pawan Kumar decided to make a no-star, no-masala feature film, finding investors proved to be a herculean task. He had a brainwave. Why not turn to the audience? The 30-year-old protégé of Kannada cinema stalwart Yograj Bhat reached out on his blog, which, thanks to his debut Lifeu Ishtene, had a formidable following.
Project Lucia, as the campaign came to be called, raked in its target of Rs 50 lakh in 27 days. “But people still wanted to give money,” recalls Kumar. The amount pledged crossed a crore, but Kumar refused the excess. On 20 July, Lucia will be the first Kannada film to have a world premiere at the London Indian film Festival — Europe’s venue for Indian indie cinema.
Kumar’s is one of the best examples of a successful crowdfunding campaign in India. Though by no means a novel idea — Shyam Benegal’s Manthan was funded with Rs 2 each contributions from the 5,00,000 farmers of the Gujarat Cooperative Milk Federation in the wake of the White Revolution — getting money from anonymous cyber buddies is no mean feat. “We don’t have much venture capitalist backing in India. Campaigners — filmmakers, musicians, photographers — have to start with friends and family and constantly engage the audiences online,” explains Priyanka Agarwal, CEO of Wishberry, India’s premier crowdfunding website. Kumar reached out to a substantial audience that was disconnected from regular Kannada cinema. Nearly 110 people backed him even though he revealed no details of the script. Even now, the only thing known is that the film deals with an insomniac’s drug-fueled adventures.
Publicity, like money, is crowd sourced. Kumar attests to the utility of word-of-mouth: “Strangers worldwide circulated the trailer online, and the festival picked it up.”
However, cracking crowdfunding is no cakewalk. A depressing number of promising campaigns fall by the wayside. Filmmaker Abhay Kumar’s campaign for his undercover, experimental documentary Placebo, backed by Anurag Kashyap, “failed spectacularly” on Wishberry. This failure could be symptomatic of the strained relationship some campaigners share with such platforms. Though Wishberry, launched in 2009, provides much logistic support, it also charges 10 percent of the money earned from the campaign. “If your campaign fails, they take 20 percent,” says Abhay.
Pawan Srivastava, whose offbeat film on migrant identity in Bihar, Naya Pata, was made on a crowdfunded budget of Rs 8 lakh, says Wishberry would have made him work as much, used his own network and then taken a cut. “So, I reached out to my contacts online on my own.”
Another way to crowdfund is more conventional: equity-based capital. But, filmmaker Onir’s campaign for his film I Am ran into trouble because of the notorious tax component slapped on equity funding. Most campaigns, such as Naya Pata, go for reward-based crowd funding with no monetary returns, but tokens such as DVDs and invites to special screenings. “In India, you cannot legally reach out to more than 50 people at once to sell your product. There is tax on money received, on interest, on dividends,” says Agarwal. Onir ended up paying nearly 47 percent of the Rs 1 crore he raised through crowdfunding and equity funding in taxes.
Crowdfunding in India is complicated. Unpredictable crowd sentiment, taxes, a non-internet-literate market, pose problems aplenty. But, there is one uncontested advantage — creative freedom. Lucia and I Am would not be possible had their makers relied on industry investors. Audiences connect emotionally with uncompromised content, explains Sridhar Rangayan, director of Kashish, India’s largest LGBT film festival, which took to partial crowdfunding last year, gaining overwhelming audience response. Kumar repeatedly told his audience that “Lucia is your film”. That they are the co-producers. And producing is not where audience involvement ends. They have to watch the movie too. The very farmers who helped Benegal churn out his Manthan went in droves to theatres, making it a hit and setting a precedent.
aradhna@tehelka.com
Navigating India’s New Wave
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Among the glut of revenge potboilers, slapstick comedies and sweeping love stories that dominate our screens, an intelligent film that might hold its own at the box office against the big-moneyed kitsch is a prospect to savour. So it is with considerable anticipation that cinema goers await the release of Anand Gandhi’s Ship of Theseus in select cities on 19 July. The small-budget alternative film has been winning critical acclaim on the international film festival circuit since its premiere at the Toronto film festival in September last year. The critic Derek Malcolm, president of the British Federation of Films, picked it as the film that changed his life. Unsurprisingly, this is Gandhi’s favourite accolade, to have a critic of the stature of Malcolm pick Ship of Theseus alongside the films of such directors as François Truffaut, Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen. Shekhar Kapur tweeted “Finally a brilliant new filmmaker emerges”, Anurag Kashyap called it “the most brilliant film to have been made in India in decades” and Anand Patwardhan likened its exploration of causality and serendipity to Kieślowski. Most recently, Karan Johar said, “It makes you feel very inferior as a filmmaker, it’s that brilliant.”
The 32-year-old Gandhi is living the dream. He had always wanted to make films and everything in his life — everything he has done, seen and read — has gone into the making of his debut feature film. His grandmother told him fables as a boy, inculcating an early love for stories. As a teenager, he dropped out of college in Mumbai, losing faith in “archaic learning”. He went on to work with altindia.net, a website set up by the author Abhay Mehta, and also with Alok Ulfat’s theatre and education movement. He read deeply and widely, from 20th century philosophers to Jain and Buddhist thought. “I am not cleverer than any of these writers. But I have one advantage over them. I have read them,” he says, paraphrasing from Matt Ridley’s The Rational Optimist.
He was writing plays that caught the eye of playwright RM Joshi, who introduced him to Ekta Kapoor. This led to a stint in Gandhi’s career that baffles everyone who knows him now — writing dialogue for the Hindi soaps Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and Kahaani Ghar Ghar Ki. Back then, he was happy for the opportunity, the mainline credit, the money and “instant gratification”. “I was 19, I was sleeping four hours a day and working the rest. It was a great high,” he laughs. It was during this time that he also wrote Sugandhi, a critically acclaimed play that first brought his talent to wider attention.
Sugandhi, and his first short film Right Here Right Now (2003), are, according to Gandhi, the foundations of Ship of Theseus. The earlier work’s interest in discourse, causality and the ripple effect of one person’s actions achieve full, spectacular maturity in the full-length film.
Gandhi wants to fill Ship of Theseus — a film spanning three stories about three different characters — with everything he knows, happily combining microbiology and philosophy to ask questions about the very existence and essence of the individual. Our bodies have 10 times more bacterial cells than they do human cells. In terms of numbers we’re walking Petri dishes. Are we then individuals or are we colonies, made up of a million different life forms, which blur the lines between where we end and where our environment begins? This was one of the questions running through Gandhi’s head as he wrote the script. In the film, an ailing monk and a young lawyer debate the nature of non-violence towards all life forms, asking whether we can understand all life and how totally we can occupy our own bodies without doing harm to the organisms that occupy us.
This question, of what constitutes a being and how it does so, is central to the film, which takes as its starting point the philosophical paradox in Plutarch’s Life of Theseus. If Theseus’s ship was rebuilt plank by plank, would it remain the same ship, and if the older wood was used to build another ship, which then is truly the ship of Theseus? The director Q, who has known Gandhi for the past two years, calls his work a convergence of aesthetics and radical ideas.
Of course, Ship of Theseus’s central idea, non-violence, which has become a familiar one to Indians, has lost its initial radical edge. It’s an idea Gandhi admits to being obsessed with for the longest time. Given his name, it led to many inevitable jokes among the crew, says Pankaj Kumar, Gandhi’s cinematographer and best friend.
However, in the second and possibly strongest segment, the monk, an exponent of non-violence, deals with extreme self doubt. In the third story, a stockbroker with a kidney transplant learns about the nature of violence and pain that can be inflicted on the poor and on those without agency. His quest for justice is met with resistance from an unexpected quarter. And the first story isn’t about a blind photographer using her other senses, but more unexpectedly how she might lose her art if she regains her sight. This is the strength of Gandhi’s film, he teases every implication out of each premise, subjects it to tests, refuses to accept it as received wisdom.
In all these stories, Gandhi has been aided by Kumar, who he first met when the latter contacted Gandhi after watching Right Here Right Now. “We used to stay up all night for years, talking about the ideas that are in this film,” tells Kumar. The two men work seamlessly together, Kumar’s cinematography so beautiful a manifestation of Gandhi’s thoughts that the film has been hailed as a visual masterpiece. More than the sweeping shots, it is the small observations that stand out: the way light and sound can assault one’s senses, the interiors of a Mumbai jhuggi, or the transition of a mind from calm to turmoil.
The result is what Anand Patwardhan calls a “breath of fresh air in an environment that is generally suffocating with either gratuitous violence that passes for realism or humourless comedy.” Kiran Rao, who came on board as a presenter, roping in UTV Motion Pictures, said that the film put her in a daze. She’s cautious, though, about its commercial appeal to an audience fed on a diet of butter-popcorn-slick Bollywood productions. “Intelligence shouldn’t be an exception, but it is,” says Gandhi ruefully, talking about the state of alternative cinema in the country, or as he prefers to call it, auteur cinema. Audiences respond too easily to love, sex, revenge and Salman Khan.
“Primal urges”, Gandhi calls them, likening it to our bodies’ response to sugar and fat. “It’s like a Big Mac. There is no skill in cooking it, it’s the same everywhere.”
In this admittedly gloomy scenario, Gandhi remains hopeful, targeting the number of people who have been denied any sort of discourse in cinema. “They may be a small percentage of the population, but in India that is still a huge number,” he says. Q, too, believes that auteur cinema in India is on the verge of becoming a proper scene, an Indian nouvelle vague, and that Gandhi is the one closest to giving it a language of its own. It’s a lot to load onto a single film, a single director, but Gandhi seems prepared and eager to take on the responsibility. If nothing else, Ship of Theseus is a film of ideas, it forces the audience to think, to draw connections, to work. If the discussions at preview screenings are anything to go by, he has succeeded in opening a can of worms. With any luck no one will be able to force the worms back in.
aradhna@tehelka.com














The verdict hardly offers a realistic chance to clean up the system
Rarely do India’s black robes find for a petitioner who wants a law erased because it is inconsistent with the Constitution. Such a day was 10 July when two Supreme Court judges ruled that a member of Parliament or of a state legislature would automatically lose his seat as soon as he is convicted of any criminal offence the Constitution lists as a ground for disqualification. Until now, a law from 1951 said elected officials could not be unseated if they appealed their conviction at the higher courts within three months. The Supreme Court has now said that provision in the Representation of the People Act, which protects a convict’s membership of the House until an appeal is ruled upon, violates statutory provisions on disqualification.
The framers of the Constitution, the judges said, did not differentiate between those who want to contest elections to the Central and state legislatures and those who are their members. As a Constitutional provision expressly disqualifies convicts from contesting elections, they said the same principle should apply to mps and MLAs as well. The judges rejected the government’s plea that the law aimed not to protect legislators but to ensure they didn’t suffer unfairly as higher courts overturn a large number of convictions by trial courts.
Not unexpectedly, the chattering classes have hailed the ruling as a giant step to clean up India’s chronically criminalised political gentry. TV studios cited statistics to show that hundreds of mps and state legislators are embroiled in criminal cases. Certainly, India’s political system has over the decades degenerated so much that alleged criminals charged with corruption, rape, murder and gangsterism join politics, get elected to legislatures and then go on to subvert governance and administration. Like the judiciary, the political system, too, has struggled for years to curb the entry of criminals in politics and weed out the politicians who break the law.
But the 41-page judgment by Justices AK Patnaik and Sudhansu Jyoti Mukhopadhaya hardly offers a realistic chance to sanitise India’s political system. It is a pity that the judges decided not to lay down norms for action should an appeal court overturn a legislator’s conviction. Would the acquitted legislator get back his seat? What if a bypoll had filled the seat in the interim? The judges recorded this apprehension of the government’s lawyers but shed no light on such an eventuality.
Perplexingly, the judges allowed a sliver of redress for the affected legislator. Citing a provision in the Criminal Procedure Code that Parliament wrote in 1973 to oversee criminal trials, the judges said the legislator would not, however, be unseated if a higher court stayed his conviction, which, they added, would only be a rarity. But the judges also ruled that a legislator would be unseated immediately upon conviction as “… the Constitution provide(s) that if a member of the House becomes subject to any of the disqualification… his seat shall thereupon become vacant”. Thus, while the legislator would be unseated immediately upon conviction, he could be seated right back if the appeal court stayed that conviction. Would it not have been better then to provide for a limited waiting period within which the appeal court must rule either way on a legislator’s plea to stay the conviction, before deciding to unseat him?
Equally confusing is the judges’ decision that although a legislator would be considered unseated upon conviction, the process to fill the seat thus rendered vacant cannot begin unless the President, in the case of Parliament, or the governor, in the case of a state legislature, rules that the legislator indeed stands disqualified as per the Constitution. But if the President, or the governor, “takes the view that the member has not become subject to any of the disqualifications mentioned… in the Constitution, it has to be held that the seat of the member so held not to be disqualified did not become vacant…”
Does it mean that the President/governor has the authority to overturn the trial court’s conviction? Exactly what principles would guide the President/governor in ruling the legislator not disqualified? Would that decision be open to judicial challenge, too? What if the higher courts uphold the conviction but the President/governor continues to insist that the said legislator does not stand disqualified? Whose decision would prevail?
Watch this space.
ajit@tehelka.com