The colour of Prejudice

I finally saw Crash.

One thing, I am never sure what to write about a movie. I don't want to give anything away, or ruin it for anybody. Which, I might add, leaves very little for me to say. I think it's more appropriate for me to talk about the context of the films within my own life.

As you know, I watched this film in the backdrop of the surprise upset for Brokeback Mountain. Undoubtedly, I had more than a little bias against it. That said, I was sure Crash was a great film, and couldn't wait to see it. I had first heard of the film about 6 months back, and was mighty impressed by the trailer. And then, it sorta just dropped off the radar. Well, not anymore.

Crash is a clever film. I throughly enjoyed it, and saw it at least thrice (lately I've been repeating films out of sheer boredom, so big whoop). It warms my heart that stories like this are being told. Racism is an issue that is too oft sidelined and caricatured, and whether we like it or not, we are all subject to it. Ok, so there is racism. Big deal. We already knew that. But then again, it's not everyday a mainstream film (an Oscar winner, to boot) raises questions most people are uncomfortable to think about. A off hand remark here, a prejudiced opinion there... racism in a way most people could identify with, and that makes them uncomfortable.

I spent a lot of time trying to come up with a scenario from the movie that would effectively convey the sense of discrimination people face. But everything I came up with seems so circumstantial and easily dismissed as pointless intellectual conjecture. Which is why I give you examples from my own life. I have lived for the past three years in a place that officially discriminates against my community. As a Brahmin, I am constantly reminded that Brahmins are not welcome in Tamil Nadu. Before I came here, I was warned by family friends familiar with Tamil Nadu not to mention that I am a Brahmin. Like most of you, I dismissed it out of hand as medieval thinking. People don't really think like that, do they? After all, here I was, a dyed-in-the-wool ultra über-liberal armchair anarchist, with an innocent face and puppy dog eyes... who could hate me?! Or so I thought. Hatred is everywhere. If it's not one thing, it's another. Tamils hated me 'cause I spoke Hindi, and came from Bangalore. Protestant evangelist classmates hated me 'cause I wasn't leap frogging into the loving bosom of Jesus like all my other heathen classmates. P.h.D scholars distrusted me 'cause I was a brahmin with a big mouth who didn't kowtow to their whims. Professors disliked me 'cause I would speak up in class, and my marks bore the brunt. Other students disliked me 'cause I didn't observe the strict protocol of sexual segregation in public.... no boys sitting with girls, or unnecessary talking, or the like. When for the first time in my life, I flunked a paper, I was stunned. It was a subject I had majored in during my undergrad, and I thought I knew the subject matter fairly well. This was till I heard whispers that the prof was a bigot who favoured his cronies, and had a strong dislike for brahmins. But I thought, my secret is safe. Nobody knows I'm a brahmin. That illusion vanished when I saw my permanent records file in the office, with BRAHMIN branded across the front. I shit you not. Your file prominently displays your caste... followed by your name in appropriatly smaller letters.

In the hostel mess, I almost always get served last, no matter where I sit. I get the rotis or puris nobody else wanted. My dosas are always cold and undercooked. At first I was pissed, but after a few years, you tend to just shrug your shoulders and do nothing.

When our hostel mess secretary decided to serve beef, the other north Indians were outraged. This was blasphemous, and they refused to eat in the mess on those days. While I have no personal problems with beef, I was flabbergasted that North Indians could be treated so coldly. It quickly became clear that the beef issue served little purpose other than to humiliate northies. Cooking beef with no prior warning (especially religious holidays) left the northies with no options to make alternate arrangements. Many would go to bed hungry. I raised this issue with every higher authority, and everybody had the same response: deal with it. WTF? My initial response would have been to put these bigots in their place, but living here has made me realise how wonton their hatred is. I know most of you who read this will think it unjust, but that's just how it is.

And it goes both ways. None of the other northies has even attempted to learn Tamil. They consider Tamil to be vile and wretched; a most heinous language. I can tell you that's definately not the case. But the prejudices go deep. Imagine my joy at meeting another amateur linguist, conversant with a few Indian languages; familiar with French, German, Dutch; and a smattering of Sindarin. He also made it clear he thought Tamil was a foul and uncouth language, and had none of the charm of the Indo-European languages. This really had me thinking. Here was someone highly educated, in the top 0.2% of the Indian population, and bigoted. He was hardly the exception. Almost every North Indian I know has a fairly similiar opinion of the South.

Prejudice knows no boundaries. Actually, scratch that. Prejudice knows nothing but boundaries.