Draupadi

Draupadi: The Fire-Born Princess.
A Graphic Novel by Saraswati Nagpal.
2013.

This version of Draupadi is interesting in that it is feminist in its slant, being told completely from Draupadi's pov, and with much questioning of the male heroes, especially of Yudhistra, the eldest of Draupadi's five husbands.

In fact, none of the characters get off easy.  The Kuru dynasty is conceived of as a den of fools, knaves, tyrants and thieves.  Jealousy, vengefulness, anger, and above all, lust, are the threads that run through the blood-soaked narrative.

Every single character seems to have a cosmic weakness, and Draupadi as much as any of the others.  The novel is powerful in depicting her towering sense of victimhood and her thirst for revenge.  Sadly, only when she is sated with blood does she realize the terrible, generational, cyclical price she, her clan, and indeed the Universe will have to pay, unless she can bring herself to enact the first act of forgiveness and self-effacement.  This is the lesson that Krishna has been trying to impart to her all her life, and one she only learns after the devastating tragedy of the Great War.

This is not the 1960s Amar Chitra Katha series we remember fondly.  The graphics are far more modern, aggressive, sexual and disturbing, borrowing from manga and fantasy, and much higher quality.  The language is still too courtly, stylized and melodramatic for my liking -- but perhaps the next generation of graphic novels in India will graduate to better novelistic treatments.  In the meantime, it is a welcome advance.

3*
Dec 2014.

Omar

Omar.
Dir. Hany Abu-Assad.
2014.

The first Palestinian film nominated for an Oscar to actually have Palestine listed as its country of origin, which is notable in itself.

Omar is the story of a young man who joins two childhood friends in a violent act of rebellion against the Israeli occupation, and the inescapable, ineffable, irretrievable tragedy which results.  But it is not sentimental, nor a cautionary or morality tale, and not even a direct protest film, which makes it all the more powerful.

Indeed, much after the film you can analyze the roles in the script and see how they can represent actors in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and the ending of the story itself as representing the conflict as a whole.  But as experienced, the film shies away from easy symbolism, and more importantly, the characters feel lived, true, and authentic, with real emotional weight and resonance for the viewer.

The film focuses tightly on the three Palestinian rebels, Omar's girlfriend Nadia, and his interrogator, the Israeli agent Rami.  The film excels in using quick, wry vignettes to bring each of the five main characters to life.   Omar's friend Amjad can do a mean impression of Marlon Brando as the Godfather; Omar and Nadja converse in playful, touching banter; and even Rami gets a few minutes being henpecked on the phone by his demanding wife and difficult mother.

The cast, mostly unknowns, is brilliant, completely convincing in every frame.  Nadia (Leem Lubany) in particular brings an appealing girlishness and sincerity that highlights how young all the four Palestinians really are, and while seemingly confident and worldly-wise, at their core how young to be dealing with the brutalities of the occupation and its consequences.



4*
Feb 2015

David Copperfield

First published 1850; Vintage Classics edition, 2012.

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show."

This opening sentence briefly puzzled me -- who else would be the hero of his own life, but the narrator? -- but I passed quickly on and swam pleasurably in the depths of the novel for a few months, a few pages a night. And it wasn't until the very end that the significance of the opening sentence dawned on my obtuse brain. 

We watch as young David eventually does become the hero of his own life -- in other words, becomes his own man, his own person -- something that everyone must struggle to do, at one time or another. He has an inauspicious start in life, born fatherless and poor, and he struggles to overcome the overpowering injustices of Victorian England, tyrannical schoolmasters, hypocritical and sadistic elders, manipulative and dominating friends, scheming and brutal villains, and eventually even his own sentimental and blind infatuation. But overcome it all he does, and finally stands wiser, firmer, more clear-eyed and less foolish (and isn't "less foolish" all that we can ever hope to be?).

The prose is rightly celebrated, although it often seems too roundabout and occasionally plain baffling; and the characters are indeed indelible (Mr Micawber, Traddles, Uriah Heep, Mr Creakle, Dora, Agnes, Peggotty, Barkis and of course, Betsey Trotwood) although sometimes a bit too rich. But his quick insight into human nature is what holds it all together and makes it worthwhile, even as the plot uses obvious and clunky devices (a convenient death; or sending half the cast off to Australia) and some puzzling characters (Martha). And above all, what keeps the fabric intact is the arc of David's struggle, our pity at his folly and blindness, and our wishes for him to emerge finally to wisdom and happiness. 

I wonder what it must have been like to read this over the course of 2 years, chapter by chapter, in a newspaper -- the anticipation of each new installment must have been thrilling. (I remember serialized Hindi novels that used to appear in weekly periodicals when I was a child, and the excitement they used to cause in our household.) This is the best argument to bring back the serialized novel from the ashes ... 

4*
Dec 2014