Where the Wild Things Are
RAJKUMAR SANTOSHI TALKS ABOUT HIS LATEST FILM AND WHY INDIAN FILMMAKERS REMAIN WARY OF CASTING THEIR LENS ON GANDHI
A new collection of essays reflects on the fascinating journey of nature and wildlife conservationists in India
The Nature Conservation Foundation (NCF) was set up a quarter century ago by a young, diverse group of scientists whose working lives began with degrees in wildlife biology, and who have learned much else along the way. This collection of essays by NCF members is a reflective, illuminating look at their journeys in Indian conservation. A John Steinbeck quote, which gives the book its title, reflects the authors’ collective commitment to two ideas: first, that “the first rule of life is living”, and second, that both the starfish and the student biologist who sits at the feet of living things know that they must “proliferate in all directions”.
From green turtles in Lakshadweep to hornbills in Arunachal Pradesh, and from elephants in Tamil Nadu to snow leopards in Ladakh, this collection is permeated by the sense that the lives and destinies of human society and the wild are intertwined, and that both conservation and life are about more than the sum of their parts. It asks as many questions as it answers. Does one excise humans from the wild, or strive towards sustainable coexistence? How does one resolve conflicts that necessitate conservation, or are produced by it? How does one restore degraded habitats? How do you get people to fall in love with nature and help protect it?
These essays are by scientists, not novelists. Habitats, wildlife, problems and learnings are firmly foregrounded. There’s more data here than lyricism—and that’s as it should be. Yet, it’s clear that the writers are driven by a deep love for and connection with the wild and its wonders. Their fascination and commitment shines through the pages in the massive investment of time and effort behind their recorded experiences—years spent in tough terrain and relative isolation, gruelling physical and emotional work, painstaking data-gathering, rigorous interrogation of their own assumptions, complicated interfaces with communities and apathetic governments. The moving passion is far from dry, so the driest of these pieces is readable. But there is also some very evocative writing—the standout essays for writerly flair are by Aparajita Datta on Namdapha and Pakke, Rohan Arthur on the resilience of a dying coral reef in Lakshadweep, and T.R. Shankar Raman and Divya Mudappa on the rainforests of Kalakad and the Anamalai hills.
You will meet the wildlife and habitat—macaques, birds, dugongs, seagrass meadows and fragmented forests—but also the people who live alongside. Tribal groups in Arunachal Pradesh, the fisherfolk of the archipelagos, government officials, shopkeepers, school kids, birding enthusiasts, citizen scientists, people all over India.
The relationships between people and the wild, and between both of these and the scientist, are dauntingly complex. Yet, for all the enormity of the challenge, the takeaway from this collection is the remarkable steadfastness and resilience of those working to conserve India’s natural world, finding hope in the successes and trying to learn from failure. Read it to wonder at our natural riches, to learn, and to feel humbled, grateful and inspired. ■
When Shah Rukh Khan returned to the big screen after 1,484 days, the hero he was up against for box-office glory was a real-life one: Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Rajkumar Santoshi’s film, Gandhi GodseEk Yudh, lost the battle for eyeballs, but it didn’t have as hard a run with the censors at the Central Board of Film Certification as the producers of Khan’s film, Yash Raj Films, did. What Santoshi did have a tough time with was finding producers to fund his political drama due to its controversial nature, as it pitted Gandhi against his assassin in a verbal duel. “They [producers] didn’t want to touch it,” says Santoshi. It did not help that he did not want to “take any stars” for his first film in nine years. “Gandhi himself is a big star,
Godse is immensely popular,” he says.
Despite his star status, Gandhi has been largely absent from mainstream Hindi cinema in recent times. For Santoshi, it’s a matter of shame that “we haven’t made more films” on Gandhi. Such is the state that the first film on Gandhi that comes to most people’s mind is one made by a British filmmaker: Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi (1982). Shyam Benegal also made a film on his years in South Africa, titled The Making of the Mahatma (1996), while the Kamal Haasan-directed bilingual film Hey Ram (2000) focused on a man who blames the Partition on Gandhi and seeks revenge. However, neither of these resonated as much as Rajkumar Hirani’s Munna Bhai
(2003 and 2006) films, which made ‘Gandhigiri’ fashionable.
Where Santoshi’s film differs from them is that it sees Gandhi in the context of Nathuram Godse, who is given equal billing. Working on a what-if scenario, wherein Gandhi survives the assassination, the drama starts with Godse expressing his frustration over Partition and explaining his worldview. “His [Godse’s] voice was suppressed,” says Santoshi. “The statement he gave in court, you may agree or disagree with it, like it or not like it, but it has to be heard. I am not justifying his actions. Who am I to? He was, after all, punished.” By reimagining history, Santoshi and his co-writer Asghar Wajahat hope to spur discussion or debate. “It is my most difficult film yet—talwar ke dhaar par chalne waali baat hai [it’s akin to walking on a sword’s edge],” says Santoshi.
Another filmmaker to have cast his lens on Gandhi by depicting him through the eyes of his eldest son is Feroz Abbas Khan, who made Gandhi, My Father (2007). Based on Chandulal Dalal’s Harilal Gandhi: Ek Dukhad Atma, the film didn’t put Gandhi on a pedestal, but it didn’t pull him down either as it showed his lesser-known side—that of a “failed father”. Khan says, “It wasn’t about one part being right or wrong .... They are victims of circumstances and time in history. That’s where the dilemma was. If you want to fight against injustice, sacrifice has to be made. In this case, they happened to be your dear one.”
The wariness to make a film on Gandhi, says Khan, stems from the fact that he isn’t seen as a boxoffice darling. “There seems to be an understanding that the moment you talk about Gandhi, the audience doesn’t want to watch [a film on him] because they feel they are going to get a whole lot of moral lessons,” says Khan. There’s also a sense of familiarity with Gandhi given how pivotal a part he plays in history books. That necessitates more cinematic narratives around the legend, feels Khan. “The way we have been introduced to Gandhi is extremely benign, so perfect and also old. It almost makes him boring and so impossible for the younger generation,” adds Khan. “Then, there is a Gandhi you want to denigrate and demolish.”
Santoshi is mindful of these detractors; many of them left comments on his film’s trailer online, vilifying Gandhi and praising Godse. But the director is clear that the man’s contribution to the freedom struggle is unparalleled. “The work he has done for the nation in his lifetime, uske ungli ke baraabar humne nahin kiya [what we’ve done is nothing compared to his contribution],” he says. “What moral right do we have to criticise or abuse him?”
Gandhi may not be physically present in our stories, but his ideology continues to inspire creators. “If someone is raising a voice against injustice, asking for compassion or asking for freedom, that’s being Gandhian. He is no more a person; he is an idea too entrenched in the collective decency and consciousness of this country to be erased,” says Khan. ■