 "Why Rajnath Singh, Arnab Goswami, you & I must watch India's Daughter")
Imagine you have been accused of a crime. It is a high-profile crime, because of which some details have been extensively covered in the media, and your case is coming up for hearing. But suddenly, without waiting for the trial, the judge brings in the verdict of “guilty” and pronounces the sentence.
That, I feel, has been the unfortunate fate of Leslee Udwin's documentary based on the December 16 gangrape, India's Daughter. It was supposed to have been broadcast this Women's Day but not only has our government, in its infinite wisdom, banned it, the police have also filed cases under various sections of the IPC against the filmmaker. This may mean that more people end up watching the film on YouTube than if it was broadcast on TV, which would be a much-deserved slap on the government's face, but this is not just about Home Minister Rajnath Singh and the rest of the government.
How on earth could everyone, from respected columnists to feminist activists to foaming-at-the-mouth TV anchors pass judgement on a film they had not seen? I will admit here that reading all the publicity material around the film and bits of interviews with Udwin made me wonder on my Facebook page whether this would, as activist Kavita Krishnan suggested in an article, lead to racial profiling of Indian men as rapists and if the filmmaker did indeed focus on “why do men rape” rather than on December 16 alone. And I am ashamed of that. Because such assumptions made each one of us no different from the Shiv Sena activists who bullied Mumbai University into withdrawing Rohinton Mistry's Such A Long Journey without having read it, the thugs who burnt copies of Perumal Murugan's novel knowing only second-hand bits of misinformation passed on to them or Aamir Khan, who denounced AIB's roast without having seen it.
The most obnoxious protest has been led, unfortunately, by journalist and TV anchor Arnab Goswami, who went on a rampage against NDTV, for its plans to air the documentary, on the grounds that it insulted the rape victim. That a fellow-journalist was calling for action against a rival channel for planning to air the documentary was nothing but an attack on free speech, as Abhinandan Sekhri pointed out on in his article.
India’s Daughter does not glorify rape, assume the role of the white man coming to rescue the ignorant natives or shame the memory of the victim. Rather, it made me angry that we live in a society where lawyers perpetuate the same stereotypes about women as the rapists they are defending, terribly sad for a girl who was brutalised for absolutely no fault of hers and maddeningly frustrated about whether, how and when things will ever change.
But I urge you, each and every one of you, to watch the film and make up your mind independently rather than let someone else mould your opinion for you. That would be the greatest tribute you can pay to Nirbhaya right now and your way of telling the government they cannot decide what you watch.
That, I feel, has been the unfortunate fate of Leslee Udwin's documentary based on the December 16 gangrape, India's Daughter. It was supposed to have been broadcast this Women's Day but not only has our government, in its infinite wisdom, banned it, the police have also filed cases under various sections of the IPC against the filmmaker. This may mean that more people end up watching the film on YouTube than if it was broadcast on TV, which would be a much-deserved slap on the government's face, but this is not just about Home Minister Rajnath Singh and the rest of the government.
How on earth could everyone, from respected columnists to feminist activists to foaming-at-the-mouth TV anchors pass judgement on a film they had not seen? I will admit here that reading all the publicity material around the film and bits of interviews with Udwin made me wonder on my Facebook page whether this would, as activist Kavita Krishnan suggested in an article, lead to racial profiling of Indian men as rapists and if the filmmaker did indeed focus on “why do men rape” rather than on December 16 alone. And I am ashamed of that. Because such assumptions made each one of us no different from the Shiv Sena activists who bullied Mumbai University into withdrawing Rohinton Mistry's Such A Long Journey without having read it, the thugs who burnt copies of Perumal Murugan's novel knowing only second-hand bits of misinformation passed on to them or Aamir Khan, who denounced AIB's roast without having seen it.
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I watched the film on YouTube and I know now how specious some of the concerns that have been raised are. One argument was that by giving the rape accused a platform to justify the crime, it would turn him into a Twitter celebrity and, additionally, drown out the voices of the thousands of protesters. The film does nothing of the sort. Yes, there are interviews where Mukesh Singh justifies the crime through controversial statements but his voice is hardly the loudest in the film, as you will realise when you watch it. Another concern was that “the film and the campaign around it are seeking to drown out the concerns and awareness we seek to raise about rape culture.” On the contrary. The concerns that the film raise about rape culture, such as mindsets and the fact that it is not restricted to any one “type” (the defence lawyers’ views are even more troubling than those of Mukesh Singh) are as relevant as those raised by any activist.
The most obnoxious protest has been led, unfortunately, by journalist and TV anchor Arnab Goswami, who went on a rampage against NDTV, for its plans to air the documentary, on the grounds that it insulted the rape victim. That a fellow-journalist was calling for action against a rival channel for planning to air the documentary was nothing but an attack on free speech, as Abhinandan Sekhri pointed out on in his article.
India’s Daughter does not glorify rape, assume the role of the white man coming to rescue the ignorant natives or shame the memory of the victim. Rather, it made me angry that we live in a society where lawyers perpetuate the same stereotypes about women as the rapists they are defending, terribly sad for a girl who was brutalised for absolutely no fault of hers and maddeningly frustrated about whether, how and when things will ever change.
But I urge you, each and every one of you, to watch the film and make up your mind independently rather than let someone else mould your opinion for you. That would be the greatest tribute you can pay to Nirbhaya right now and your way of telling the government they cannot decide what you watch.