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On certitude and doubt

"Persist and verify…The power that we abdicate to others out of our insecurity — to others who insult us with their faux-intuition or their authoritarian smugness — that comes back to hurt us so deeply… But the power we wrest from our own certitude — that saves us."

Rosanne Cash / excerpted from Brainpickings

The Disciple by Chaitanya Tamhane

The Aesthetics of Mediocrity

Chaitanya Tamhane's latest film, 'The Disciple', that was released on Netflix last week has been the centre of discussion across several platforms. The film charts the life of Sharad Nerulkar, an aspiring classical vocalist in the Hindustani music tradition. Sharad is a devoted learner under his guru who trains young minds in music as well as gives vocal performances that earn him his modest survival. While other students learning under the Guru, along with Sharad are able to find themselves platforms for performance as they graduate, Sharad seems to be struggling, caught up in mere technique and finding it difficult to creatively break through into the art itself. Sharad however, is fully aware of his shortcomings. He is self-critical, hard working, and yet an unsuccessful individual. In such a narration, the film, as largely understood by most, is about "coming to terms with one's one mediocrity". 

What lies behind the appeal of the film is Tamhane's ability to produce empathy towards a deeply undesired human value: mediocrity. Artist Bharati Kapadia, with whom I was discussing the film said, "It hits us because we are able to see the mediocre in each one of us through the character of the Sharad." Whether you want or not, the film is able to bring doubt in their own abilities. This production of ambiguity is the hallmark of Tamhanhe's film-making in techniques well as story-telling. The sustained long distance shots in the film don't try to direct the eye too much, rather suspend the viewer in the ambiguity of space itself. The voice of the inner mind -  in maai's recordings plugged into the Sharad's ears as he passes through the empty streets of the city at night; or his own confusions trying to come to terms with his perceived shortcomings or the seeming politics of his relationship with his guru - create the haunt of ambiguous space. The constructed silences amplify frustrations of a mind that is unable to articulate the means to reach the genius. To be sure, the story telling in 'The Disciple' has the exact opposite effect of what 'Taare Zameen Par' had on us. In contrast to how we all relate to the young dyslexic boy in TZP and imagine that we are special too, Sharad's character in 'The Disciple' is quite anti-climactic.

Tamhane pushes us to consider through the film whether the figure of the genius is reality or myth. I have been thinking very deeply if the failure of the disciple in the film was because of his shortcomings or because of the lack of opportunities that somehow didn't come his way. Opportunities like such are controlled by networks, connections, access to people...and so on...In my opinion, the disciple Sharad didnot seem so bad...he had technique, he had the skill, he was intelligent enough to understand his limitations, then why should he have suffered? To know what you don't know is a good thing...but I wonder if the idealism of his maai just pulled him back from believing in himself to even find an alternative space for his craft. Sharad ends up giving so much importance to the aura of the world that maai creates for him, that he stops acknowledging his own reality, the context in which he lives...I feel that the slippage that he suffers in his life is the burden of self expectation.

What could have been the role of the guru in shaping a student such as Sharad who is honest, hardworking, self-critical yet unable to design music through his craft? We do not see the guru's efforts in devising methods for his student to be able to produce new experiences, or overcome his mental block.  These are aspects that I have been unable to come to terms with. While the incapability of the student has been highlighted throughout the film, the responsibility of the teacher could have been detailed too. The pedagogical zone of music is left mythically illusive, excused in complete devotion, abstinence or sacrifice. Sharad refrains from worldly pleasures until a late age despite having strong carnal urges. 

The film has further brought me to consider how 'mediocrity' is a social construct. How must one prepare a frame for critical appraisal of averageness? The 'everyday' is a category that may be one window to the acknowledgement of being average - that which is neither good, nor bad. Isn't that what average is? Average is functional, workable, acceptable, satisfactory. Sharad was satisfactory. For most of our lives, we consume what is satisfactory. The desire to be exclusive and special is a socially constructed desire. I don't mean to suggest that one should not have the desire to feel special, or be exclusive. The argument however is, that why does averageness discomfort us if more than half the population around us is just plain average? How have we come to ascribe a negative value to being average? Is there no beauty in the average? It is the rejection of the average that Sharad's mind is conflicted with. Sharad's conflict may also be seen as valid in light of the fact that he has been putting in tremendous personal resources in order to go beyond the average. Yet, I wish if the guru was able to help Sharad reconcile with his averageness. 

Over time, the film expresses the aesthetic of mediocrity rather beautifully. Sharad - once a young charming boy reluctantly hopeful of a bright future in his eyes slowly emerges into a stiff middle-aged man drowned in the seriousness of life and failure of his ambition. He is certainly not progressive and holds the values he has come to believe in (without critical consideration) rather strongly. That mindset becomes his frame to judge the world, a world that in fact he feels judged by. Sharad is confused in the idea of success - he is unable to resolve whether it is the worldly acknowledgement or the internal contentment through his singing that will satisfy his restiveness. In his case, perhaps these categories are intertwined and interrelated. His belief in a purism that he could not bring in his music never deters him from it. Still, Sharad does not alter his route from the Hindustani classical form despite having tremendous technique. He prefers to remain in limbo without the methods or means to achieve success or salvation in his art. This, in my mind, was my biggest dejection in Sharad.

A stronger Marxist analysis of the film would clearly bring out how values of mediocrity or averageness, which often become the frames of self-identification are a result of the political economy of how the enterprise of classical music organizes itself in the present day context. Matters of exposure, access, patronage, support are all reworked through distinct mechanisms of the economy. Value is largely created through quantified logistics. How do we trust instruments of TRPs, or the uninformed ears/eyes that hold the power to bring value to artistic pursuits that take a lifetime to be honed? The mysticism associated to the values of the 'genius' or 'excellence' may operate well in a medieval economic model, however when brought into the space of capitalism may require new grounding. Yet, the question of where do we locate art, its purpose - for the self and the world, are questions that the film helps open up. I would have liked to see other dimensions of Sharad's life beyond music, which in its portrayal not only makes us view him as a loser, but could also help us enjoy the buoyancy that helps us survive while still being the everyday average.