Maybe it was the fact that I went to watch
Aligarh straight from Parliament where people were hurling vile abuses at each other all day. Maybe, it was because it was set at a university campus. Or maybe it was simply because of actor Manoj Bajpayee's masterful skills. I don't know whether the filmmakers planned it, but the opening of
Aligarh couldn't have come at a more apt time than this. Let me tell you why.
First of all, at a time when my own profession is under attack for being partisan,
Aligarh, like
Spotlight and the Aaron Sorkin drama
Newsroom, reminds us what's really important in journalism. It's not about the
netas, and the political griping, or the studio shouting, it's about telling stories about people. So
Aligarh brings back the romance of leaving the newsroom to venture out into the small town.
The reporter is portrayed not one dying to be a big anchor or a political commentator, but one who is begging to be put on the "human story" beat and who is willing to rough it out in buses so that he can get close to the subject of his story. Rajkumar Rao portrays a journalist you don't meet that often these days, someone who tells off his photographer for clicking pictures, for instance, and doesn't ever judge the interviewee. Those watching the film would rather be Rao than the TV journalists who ask "
aap ko kya mehsoos ho raha hai" (what are you feeling?). And so for our fraternity, it provokes much-needed soul searching.
But it holds lessons for so many others. University officials, for instance. At a time when campuses are rising up in rebellion from HCU to JNU, Aligarh reminds us of another campus suicide in AMU. It may have been six years ago, but when university officials cut off Professor Siras' electricity connection and evicted him for being gay, they were doing exactly what they did to Rohith Vemula. If in 2010, it was a gay professor being shunned for being different, in 2015-16, it was a Dalit student being kicked out for protesting against the ABVP. Or a whole group of students being arrested for what's perceived to be "anti-national" activity.
Why is it that institutes of higher learning and inspiration turn their back on those that they are meant to nurture? You'll find no angry vengeance in the hero of
Aligarh; instead, Professor Siras tells the journalist - "I love AU (Aligarh University)". It's almost exactly the sentiment shared by Rohith Vemula when he refuses to blame anyone in his suicide note. That suicide note should have made university officials and the HRD Minister die a thousand deaths, before setting off a systematic reform in the system. And yet, all it's become is the red flag on the floor of Parliament - Smriti Irani waving it to show she's not to blame, others waving it to prove her shame.
Maybe I'm reading too much into this because I'm disturbed. I can't believe that students and journalists are being interrogated about which rallies they attended, what slogans they shouted while people are threatening each other on Twitter about who's an anti-national. That's the best part about
Aligarh, by the way. The rejection of being slotted into any group. When a journalist asks Professor Siras in the film if he's gay, or if the man he was filmed with was his lover, he admonishes him asking why the young are always looking for labels these days, instead of really understanding. As the Delhi Police hunts for "anti-nationals", that's a good lesson, wouldn't you say?
(
Sunetra Choudhury is Editor, National Affairs, NDTV 24x7)
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