Thoughts on Two Tales of Tagore
I confess I haven';t been able to finish reading any books lately. Still, I get a dose of literature on my Netflix. While most of these are mystery series like Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries and Elementary, at Netflix's recommendation, I also watched a couple of the televised Stories of Rabindranath Tagore.
I've always admired the language and philosophy in the essays of the Nobel Prize-winning Indian author but have read only one or two of his actual stories, years ago. While I have difficulty accepting the values implicitly espoused in the stories I watched, I need to remember that the actual works were written in turn-of-the-twentieth-century India. They were therefore already quite modern and controversial for their time. Certainly their female protagonists were.
"Chokher Bali" centers on the story of a young widow. In those days widows, while no longer encouraged to fling themselves on funeral pyres, were expected to remain chaste and never remarry. The well-read and musical young widow Binodini resents her fate, more so as she had been promised in her teens to a bookish young doctor, but the man refused to marry and she was passed on to his distant relative since his cousin refused to be married abruptly to a girl he did not know. All we know about their marriage is that the man died after 6 months. It would help if we knew a little more to increase our sympathy for Binodini, as she later becomes a homewrecker. Still, the director does an admirable job of making certain that we maintain sympathy for the character by introducing us first to the mature, independent Binodini who expresses regret for the folly of her ways while not, as in the original, backing society's restrictions against widows. In the original story's ending, an ending Tagore regretted writing, Binodini rejects the cousin's proposal by saying it would be shameful for him to marry a widow. Which was strange given that she had initially pursued a married man then the unmarried cousin. I suppose her concern for his being shamed could be read as a sign of love for him, and the series seems to take off on this interpretation but presents it better. Here, Binodini makes her decision less out of fear that the man she loves will be shamed than out of concern for his career and his marital happiness (a more suitable bride, in terms of social status and education waits in the wings--times are modern enough by now to allow the potential bride to be a doctor so it's doubtful there is still as great a stigma against marriage to a widow). She also considers eschewing marital happiness as a form of atonement for threatening the marriage of a devoted friend.
I have mixed feelings about the other story I watched, "The Conclusion." The hero and heroine of this romantic story are delightful--the serious scholar Apoorva and the tomboyish teenager Mrinmayi. Apoorva comes from a wealthy family and his mother wants him to marry a conventional good but uneducated girl. Apoorva considers himself more modern and seeks a more interesting bride and finds her in Mrinmayi, the leader of a gang of boys who steal fruits from his family's own orchards. But nobody asks Mrinmayi what she wants, and she resents the marriage. Apoorva realizes he has to win her over gradually. She also tames her wild ways to please her father. In the end, she chooses to please her husband's family and quits running around with the boys.
While of course a certain domestication is needed in a girl once she becomes a wife, I felt a terrible loss when Mrinmayi in the end just sat by while her brother and his friends came to deliver the mangoes they picked from her husband's trees. It wasn't even she who chased them out. While her mother-in-law was no longer shocked to hear she was the best mango picker of the group, I was disappointed that she was not encouraged to take charge of the fruit harvesting herself. I hoped it was because she was pregnant, but that was not mentioned as a reason at all. And the husband was not even present during this exchange so we would have an idea what he thought of it. I'm hoping he would have urged Mrinmayi to harvest mangoes, but it's doubtful. Her name apparently means "something shaped from clay" which suggests she was meant to be molded gently into a docile wife.
The stories are beautifully presented with wonderful production design, settings, cinematography, and poignant songs using Tagore's own poetry as lyrics. The characters are intriguing, the acting good. There is much to reflect on in these stories, but to appreciate them it may be necessary to remember the cultural values in the place and time they were written. It's clear that there are some updates, yet it seems that modernization of the tales was not the main intention of this series.
I've always admired the language and philosophy in the essays of the Nobel Prize-winning Indian author but have read only one or two of his actual stories, years ago. While I have difficulty accepting the values implicitly espoused in the stories I watched, I need to remember that the actual works were written in turn-of-the-twentieth-century India. They were therefore already quite modern and controversial for their time. Certainly their female protagonists were.
"Chokher Bali" centers on the story of a young widow. In those days widows, while no longer encouraged to fling themselves on funeral pyres, were expected to remain chaste and never remarry. The well-read and musical young widow Binodini resents her fate, more so as she had been promised in her teens to a bookish young doctor, but the man refused to marry and she was passed on to his distant relative since his cousin refused to be married abruptly to a girl he did not know. All we know about their marriage is that the man died after 6 months. It would help if we knew a little more to increase our sympathy for Binodini, as she later becomes a homewrecker. Still, the director does an admirable job of making certain that we maintain sympathy for the character by introducing us first to the mature, independent Binodini who expresses regret for the folly of her ways while not, as in the original, backing society's restrictions against widows. In the original story's ending, an ending Tagore regretted writing, Binodini rejects the cousin's proposal by saying it would be shameful for him to marry a widow. Which was strange given that she had initially pursued a married man then the unmarried cousin. I suppose her concern for his being shamed could be read as a sign of love for him, and the series seems to take off on this interpretation but presents it better. Here, Binodini makes her decision less out of fear that the man she loves will be shamed than out of concern for his career and his marital happiness (a more suitable bride, in terms of social status and education waits in the wings--times are modern enough by now to allow the potential bride to be a doctor so it's doubtful there is still as great a stigma against marriage to a widow). She also considers eschewing marital happiness as a form of atonement for threatening the marriage of a devoted friend.
I have mixed feelings about the other story I watched, "The Conclusion." The hero and heroine of this romantic story are delightful--the serious scholar Apoorva and the tomboyish teenager Mrinmayi. Apoorva comes from a wealthy family and his mother wants him to marry a conventional good but uneducated girl. Apoorva considers himself more modern and seeks a more interesting bride and finds her in Mrinmayi, the leader of a gang of boys who steal fruits from his family's own orchards. But nobody asks Mrinmayi what she wants, and she resents the marriage. Apoorva realizes he has to win her over gradually. She also tames her wild ways to please her father. In the end, she chooses to please her husband's family and quits running around with the boys.
While of course a certain domestication is needed in a girl once she becomes a wife, I felt a terrible loss when Mrinmayi in the end just sat by while her brother and his friends came to deliver the mangoes they picked from her husband's trees. It wasn't even she who chased them out. While her mother-in-law was no longer shocked to hear she was the best mango picker of the group, I was disappointed that she was not encouraged to take charge of the fruit harvesting herself. I hoped it was because she was pregnant, but that was not mentioned as a reason at all. And the husband was not even present during this exchange so we would have an idea what he thought of it. I'm hoping he would have urged Mrinmayi to harvest mangoes, but it's doubtful. Her name apparently means "something shaped from clay" which suggests she was meant to be molded gently into a docile wife.
The stories are beautifully presented with wonderful production design, settings, cinematography, and poignant songs using Tagore's own poetry as lyrics. The characters are intriguing, the acting good. There is much to reflect on in these stories, but to appreciate them it may be necessary to remember the cultural values in the place and time they were written. It's clear that there are some updates, yet it seems that modernization of the tales was not the main intention of this series.
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