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Mapping conflict and its ‘flawed' characters

Mapping conflict and its ‘flawed' characters

India Today18-07-2025
On the surface, Siddharthya Roy's The Company of Violent Men: Dispatches from the Bloody Fault Lines of the Subcontinent chronicles a series of essays based on his investigative reporting between 2016 and 2023 across Bangladesh, Germany and India. They are vignettes compiled from 'reported notes that didn't make it to the final edits'.These 'unfiltered dispatches' attempt to 'un-trope' the characters they feature—militants, refugees, clandestine agents, insurgents, reporters, wheeler-dealers and so on, whose lives have been flattened into familiar tropes of 'good and evil' and 'us and them' by the news cycle.advertisementThe book succeeds spectacularly well in this regard. Roy is so good at narrating what historian Hannah Arendt called the 'banality of evil' that what might, in another iteration, feel like atrocity tourism becomes instead an edifying read.At the same time, the book is supposed to be a 'bit like a memoir'. We learn that Roy grew up affluent, was a Communist during his youth, likes Rage Against the Machine, and had a job as a programmer in a former life. At some point, he gave up on this conventional life and moved into investigative journalism.
Because of his 'late' entry into journalism, Roy was advised by some editors to credential upward by getting a 'very expensive stamped paper' from the Columbia Journalism School, which he does, earning not just a degree but also a grant from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting. But piecing together this narrative of Roy's adult life is somewhat hard to do because the references are stochastic and intersect with the vignettes in oblique ways. So, yes, it is a 'bit like a memoir'.What is most impressive about the book, however, is that it is a primal scream, expressed in written words, against a world in which we are asked to live between right and wrong, and with both, and given no sense of what we are supposed to do with the anger we feel as a result of this. Anger against, among other things, state brutality (India, Bangladesh, the US's Global War on Terror); higher education (Columbia advisers obsessed with newsworthiness); journalists (who don't give credit to those who do the legwork, who glorify the 'untouched beauty of the forest' in which people die because of the lack of infrastructure, the German press nonchalantly buying stories from journalists from the Global South and running them with bylines of German journalists); the moral absolutists who have no regard for human rights, autonomy or dignity (religious fundamentalists of all stripes, Dalits, the Rohingya Salvation Army, Maoists, Kashmiri militants, the Tamil Tigers); and the power brokers, con artists, conspiracy theorists and 'middlemen' who profit from a global violence-industrial complex.Subscribe to India Today Magazine- Ends
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Purulia girl's tale on Mumbai migrants in competition at Venice film fest
Purulia girl's tale on Mumbai migrants in competition at Venice film fest

Time of India

time2 hours ago

  • Time of India

Purulia girl's tale on Mumbai migrants in competition at Venice film fest

1 2 3 Kolkata: A Purulia girl's film about two migrant women in Mumbai, whose lives become unexpectedly intertwined, is in competition with 18 other feature films in the Orizzonti section of the 82nd Venice International Film Festival. Anuparna Roy's 'Songs of Forgotten Trees', set in Mumbai, is inspired by the story of her childhood friend from Monpura village in Bengal. The Hindi film, filmed by a cinematographer from Bengal, is competing with Teona Strugar Mitevska's film on Mother Teresa. Roy, whose first short film was shot in Purulia, is also keen showcase the Bengal where she grew up. The film's cinematographer, Debjit Samanta, is from Kolkata. "Sakyadeb Chowdhury from SRFTI is the second unit DOP. They are an integral part of my film. Though my film is set in Mumbai, my childhood experiences of Bengal form the springboard for the script. Growing up as a girl in rural and not elite Bengal, I experienced how institutions from schools to family made gender-based discrimination feel normal. In my village school, boys received books and toys. We girls received rice rations based on our body weight until fourth grade," Roy added. As a child attending Ranipur High School, Roy became friends with a girl named Jhuma Nath. "Our village, Narayanpur, was predominantly inhabited by Rajputs. I met Jhuma in Class V and quickly grew fond of her. However, everything changed when I mentioned her name to my father. The caste divisions were deeply entrenched, even within my own family. Despite being a mining engineer, my father reacted with disapproval upon hearing Jhuma's surname. He mocked me for developing a close friendship with someone from the Nath community," she recalled. You Can Also Check: Kolkata AQI | Weather in Kolkata | Bank Holidays in Kolkata | Public Holidays in Kolkata Roy was too young to protest against caste discrimination. "I couldn't understand why my father refused to accept my friendship with her. From the next day, I stopped speaking to her. Jhuma would often approach me and quietly ask why I had changed. I had no answer. Eventually, I learned that she married and would never return to school. My intention was to make a documentary about searching for her, but my proposal was not approved by the Public Service Broadcasting Trust (PSBT)," she said. For the feature film, Roy developed the concept further. The protagonist is a sex worker and wannabe actor in Mumbai whose sugar daddy provides her with an apartment. She sublets the living room to another migrant woman from north India. "My protagonist clings to memories of a lost girl from her childhood. The memories she shares are drawn from my own recollections of Jhuma. In the film, I use the metaphor of the Hollong tree from Assam, often referred to as the forgotten tree. In the story, it symbolises the girl my protagonist has lost," Roy explained, who worked in the corporate sector while writing this film. The film also explores the platonic relationship the two migrant women share. "It also shows how these two women are stuck in the same routine of a straight, male-dominated society. They are not able to express their true feelings for each other until they clearly see how the world around them is like a closed circle, built and controlled by men. In cinema, we women are rarely seen as we are. Instead, we are often sugar-coated through the male gaze, packaged, labelled, and filtered through imposed political, religious, and social frameworks. My film resists that. It attempts to reclaim the space where women exist not as symbols, metaphors, or vessels of ideologies but as themselves," Roy said. Roy is keen to shoot in Bengal. "My first short film, 'Run To The River', was shot in Bengal. It was made in Purulia's local dialect and won a special jury mention at the festival in Russia's Cheboksary and was at festivals in Stuttgart and London. I am keen to return to shoot in Bengal. But the language will be regional, not one used by the elite Bengali language. It will criticise the urban elite's propaganda on culture, language, and system," she said. Kolkata: A Purulia girl's film about two migrant women in Mumbai, whose lives become unexpectedly intertwined, is in competition with 18 other feature films in the Orizzonti section of the 82nd Venice International Film Festival. Anuparna Roy's 'Songs of Forgotten Trees', set in Mumbai, is inspired by the story of her childhood friend from Monpura village in Bengal. The Hindi film, filmed by a cinematographer from Bengal, is competing with Teona Strugar Mitevska's film on Mother Teresa. Roy, whose first short film was shot in Purulia, is also keen showcase the Bengal where she grew up. The film's cinematographer, Debjit Samanta, is from Kolkata. "Sakyadeb Chowdhury from SRFTI is the second unit DOP. They are an integral part of my film. Though my film is set in Mumbai, my childhood experiences of Bengal form the springboard for the script. Growing up as a girl in rural and not elite Bengal, I experienced how institutions from schools to family made gender-based discrimination feel normal. In my village school, boys received books and toys. We girls received rice rations based on our body weight until fourth grade," Roy added. As a child attending Ranipur High School, Roy became friends with a girl named Jhuma Nath. "Our village, Narayanpur, was predominantly inhabited by Rajputs. I met Jhuma in Class V and quickly grew fond of her. However, everything changed when I mentioned her name to my father. The caste divisions were deeply entrenched, even within my own family. Despite being a mining engineer, my father reacted with disapproval upon hearing Jhuma's surname. He mocked me for developing a close friendship with someone from the Nath community," she recalled. Roy was too young to protest against caste discrimination. "I couldn't understand why my father refused to accept my friendship with her. From the next day, I stopped speaking to her. Jhuma would often approach me and quietly ask why I had changed. I had no answer. Eventually, I learned that she married and would never return to school. My intention was to make a documentary about searching for her, but my proposal was not approved by the Public Service Broadcasting Trust (PSBT)," she said. For the feature film, Roy developed the concept further. The protagonist is a sex worker and wannabe actor in Mumbai whose sugar daddy provides her with an apartment. She sublets the living room to another migrant woman from north India. "My protagonist clings to memories of a lost girl from her childhood. The memories she shares are drawn from my own recollections of Jhuma. In the film, I use the metaphor of the Hollong tree from Assam, often referred to as the forgotten tree. In the story, it symbolises the girl my protagonist has lost," Roy explained, who worked in the corporate sector while writing this film. The film also explores the platonic relationship the two migrant women share. "It also shows how these two women are stuck in the same routine of a straight, male-dominated society. They are not able to express their true feelings for each other until they clearly see how the world around them is like a closed circle, built and controlled by men. In cinema, we women are rarely seen as we are. Instead, we are often sugar-coated through the male gaze, packaged, labelled, and filtered through imposed political, religious, and social frameworks. My film resists that. It attempts to reclaim the space where women exist not as symbols, metaphors, or vessels of ideologies but as themselves," Roy said. Roy is keen to shoot in Bengal. "My first short film, 'Run To The River', was shot in Bengal. It was made in Purulia's local dialect and won a special jury mention at the festival in Russia's Cheboksary and was at festivals in Stuttgart and London. I am keen to return to shoot in Bengal. But the language will be regional, not one used by the elite Bengali language. It will criticise the urban elite's propaganda on culture, language, and system," she said.

Labubus of the world unite, but not at Karl Marx's grave
Labubus of the world unite, but not at Karl Marx's grave

India Today

time11 hours ago

  • India Today

Labubus of the world unite, but not at Karl Marx's grave

If not contradictions, then what? Just beneath the iconic slogan "Workers of the world, unite!" engraved on the grave of German philosopher Karl Marx, was a Labubu doll, carefully placed, reveals a now-viral post on X. Labubus — a symbol of capitalism — of the world can unite, but not at the grave of the father of Communist photo of the odd pairing went viral, racking up over 10 million views in just five days. While some adored the quirky contrast, others were far less one user said, "Labubu could be one of the most anti-Marx things ever". The designer toy, arguably a peak symbol of late-stage consumerism, which the philosopher had long warned against, resting on the grave of the man whose socio-economic theories laid the foundation for anti-capitalist thought in the modern world, felt nothing short of ironic, and yet, undeniably some people offered an "awww", what truly stood out was a handwritten letter by a Chinese student placed next to the Labubu doll, amid other tokens of tribute left for the letter, the student, having claimed to study theories at length, hailed Marx's ideas for transforming China's destiny, which were, honestly, far more heartfelt and endearing. But in the capitalist world, who's really stopping to read that?"People clowning on the Labubu but the letter itself is very heartfelt," a person DOLLS AND COMPULSIVE CONSUMERISMLabubu dolls, part of Pop Mart's "The Monsters" collection, are the brainchild of Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung. These snaggle-toothed, elf-like figures have become a global sensation among the GenZ. Its marketing model has thrived on scarcity and surprise. Sold in blind boxes, buyers don't know which doll they'll get until they open it — a tactic that mirrors gambling mechanics and drives compulsive limited-edition figures reselling for hundreds or even thousands of dollars, Labubus, to me at least, epitomises the artificial desire Marx critiqued in his warnings about capitalism's commodification of human dolls, often flaunted by influencers like Rihanna and Dua Lipa, have gone from being toys to status symbols for Gen Zs, and now, even gripped the late toys dangling from luxury handbags as badges have become symbols of Labubu dolls range from $15–$30 for standard figures and keychains, up to $960 for large editions. Rare 1.2-metre pieces fetching up to $170,000 at auctions. In India, prices start at Rs 2,000 for authentic pieces, but in flea markets, one can find counterfeit ones for as low as Rs ARE WHAT MARX HAD WARNED OFThe manufactured hype, where value stems from market frenzy rather than utility, is what late-stage consumerism is, Marx foresaw. It is a system where desire is engineered, and consumption is an internet's reaction to the Labubu on Marx's grave was a mix of hilarity and biting commentary."Icon of modern consumerism on his grave. He would have hated you," one person wrote. And fair enough, given the dissonance of a capitalist trinket adorning the resting place of Communism's person observed, "There's something deeply poetic and unhinged about a collectable capitalist gremlin sitting on the grave of the man who critiqued capitalism itself. Peak irony".With the question of who placed the doll still unanswered, the safest guesses remain a playful tourist, a cheeky critic, or an unwitting fan. But the sentiment online was clear: "Capitalism wins again", as one person declared, though perhaps they missed the fall of the Berlin LETTER AND BOILED POTATOES FOR MARXWith the viral buzz on, the Chinese student's letter offered a counterpoint. Written by one Liu Yuhae, the letter was full of deep gratitude for Marx's influence on contemporary socialist thought in China."I have always wanted to write you a letter," the student began, admitting their struggle to fully grasp his complex works, like The Communist Manifesto and The Critique of the Gotha a heartfelt touch, the student joked about looking like a potato and dreaming of cooking them for Marx in the after all, in his The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852), likened the French peasantry to a sack of potatoes, lumped together by condition but scattered in spirit, incapable of collective action without a binding IT NEED A LABUBU DOLL TO REMIND THE WORLD OF MARX?This letter carried, if not less, far more substance, more weight and thoughtfulness, the kind of note that truly belonged knows how many such letters lie unread at Marx's grave? But in a world dominated by capitalism, it took a Labubu doll for the post to go combined appearance of the sincere letter and the Labubu doll in northern London, where the philosopher spent the last decades of his life after fleeing political persecution in continental Europe, is nothing short of magic and their fans of the world may well unite and are uniting, but preferably not at Karl Marx's grave. True admirers of such marketed and ornamented trends would be better off finding more appreciative company presence of the Labubu doll at Marx's grave, however, is a reminder of capitalism's uncanny ability to repackage things as a marketable aesthetic. Let the dolls gather elsewhere, and leave Marx's to inspire, at least until the workers of the world unite. If they really ever do.- Ends

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