purpose of gaitonday to visot bombay
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Two weeks ago, Netflix dropped its first Indian original series which has kept everyone on their toes. Sacred Games, an adaptation of the same-titled novel by Vikram Chandra, and directed by Anurag Kashyap and Vikramaditya Motwane, premiered on Netflix on July 6. The original book is a social novel—meaning it dramatises social problems through individual characters. The television adaption, too, is staged in a similar style and is populated with uniquely eccentric and complex characters who bring Mumbai to life.
The story builds on these characters to provide a layered understanding of what makes the city—it's people and their social interactions. Through policeman-protagonist Sartaj Singh (played by Saif Ali Khan), the audience discovers a modern, cosmopolitan Mumbai of politicians, film-stars, the corrupt, the rich, the fanatic, the refugees, the helpless. And through gangster-antagonist Ganesh Gaitonde (played by Nawazuddin Siddiqui), the audience witnesses a 90s Bombay of dreams and of ambition—of gang wars, jazz bars, temples, mosques. Gaitonde tips Singh about a catastrophe awaiting this vivid city in the next 25 days and the episodes follow Singh's investigation parsed with Gaitonde's flashbacks
The plot spans out over a generation, essentially tracing “how Bombay became Mumbai”—a phrase often used to indicate the time when Shiv Sena-BJP alliance came into power in Maharashtra and Hindu-nationalist sentiment started rising in the region. The socio-political landscape behind far-right Hindutva violence becomes the playing field for gangster Ganesh Gaitonde's rise (and fall) through the 90s mob scene. The series depicts Hindu-Muslim communal conflict as intentional and man-made, often a result of direct interventions by party-politicians. The episode titles and story arcs are styled after Hindu mythologies hinting at the rise of essentialist and populist interpretations of Hinduism in India. The “guru” in the story is depicted as a manipulative organised criminal inciting communal violence for personal gains. He has a network of policemen and politicians, including the home minister, who directly manufacture sensationalised riots. Set in the back drop of Babri Masjid incident and the Bombay Riots of 1992-1993, the show is a direct commentary against ruling parties and criticises the rise of religion-based nationalism.
Singh's modern Mumbai focuses more on the cosmopolitanism of the city. Mumbai is shown to be a gritty and glamourous city struggling to catch up with the fast-paced, exhausting structure of urban life. The characters are frustrated from being stuck in a system with rampant corruption where the powerful prey on vulnerable communities. A recurring theme in this part of the storytelling is the importance of status quo, and the extent the rich and powerful would go to in order to maintain it. For example, a key dilemma arises for Singh when he is asked to frame a youth from the Bengali Bura neighbourhood, a community of Muslim-Bangladeshis, as a “terrorist” in order to justify a death during police crossfire. Through multiple incidents such as this, Sacred Games explores the refugee neighbourhoods, the working-class warehouses, the alleys, the road-side stalls, laced with Singh and his assistant Katekar's cynical commentary.
However, some of the social commentary feels contradictory in realtion to the greater story. For example, Radhika Apte's character, RAW agent Anjali Mathur, gives a monologue asking Sartaj Singh, “Why do you men always have to play the saviour? We don't need your saving!” She feels discriminated that she is offered a desk job as opposed to field work. While Anjali Mathur's character is supposed to bring a feminist tone to the story, she is ultimately written off by the scriptwriters just like all the other prominent female characters in the series. Although the female characters, such as Kukoo and Subadhra, are vocal and independent, they never manage to survive the first season, proving that they were only means to an end for other men. Especially when it comes to violence, women are often direct or indirect inspiration for them, reiterating the age-old Helen-of-Troy trope.
Speaking of tropes, there's too many in this series. The protagonist Sartaj Singh follows an overdone character arc akin to True Detective's Rustin Cole and Broadchurch's Alec Hardy—a righteous cop battling his own demons from fighting the good fight, hungover from a broken marriage, and abusing mental health medication. The only reason why Singh’s character still remains entertaining is because a slouching, unfit, and troubled, hero archetype is a rare sight in the Hindi-language-centric cinema and television which is saturated with testosterone-fuelled action heroes.
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Two weeks ago, Netflix dropped its first Indian original series which has kept everyone on their toes. Sacred Games, an adaptation of the same-titled novel by Vikram Chandra, and directed by Anurag Kashyap and Vikramaditya Motwane, premiered on Netflix on July 6. The original book is a social novel—meaning it dramatises social problems through individual characters. The television adaption, too, is staged in a similar style and is populated with uniquely eccentric and complex characters who bring Mumbai to life.
The story builds on these characters to provide a layered understanding of what makes the city—it's people and their social interactions. Through policeman-protagonist Sartaj Singh (played by Saif Ali Khan), the audience discovers a modern, cosmopolitan Mumbai of politicians, film-stars, the corrupt, the rich, the fanatic, the refugees, the helpless. And through gangster-antagonist Ganesh Gaitonde (played by Nawazuddin Siddiqui), the audience witnesses a 90s Bombay of dreams and of ambition—of gang wars, jazz bars, temples, mosques. Gaitonde tips Singh about a catastrophe awaiting this vivid city in the next 25 days and the episodes follow Singh's investigation parsed with Gaitonde's flashbacks
The plot spans out over a generation, essentially tracing “how Bombay became Mumbai”—a phrase often used to indicate the time when Shiv Sena-BJP alliance came into power in Maharashtra and Hindu-nationalist sentiment started rising in the region. The socio-political landscape behind far-right Hindutva violence becomes the playing field for gangster Ganesh Gaitonde's rise (and fall) through the 90s mob scene. The series depicts Hindu-Muslim communal conflict as intentional and man-made, often a result of direct interventions by party-politicians. The episode titles and story arcs are styled after Hindu mythologies hinting at the rise of essentialist and populist interpretations of Hinduism in India. The “guru” in the story is depicted as a manipulative organised criminal inciting communal violence for personal gains. He has a network of policemen and politicians, including the home minister, who directly manufacture sensationalised riots. Set in the back drop of Babri Masjid incident and the Bombay Riots of 1992-1993, the show is a direct commentary against ruling parties and criticises the rise of religion-based nationalism.
Singh's modern Mumbai focuses more on the cosmopolitanism of the city. Mumbai is shown to be a gritty and glamourous city struggling to catch up with the fast-paced, exhausting structure of urban life. The characters are frustrated from being stuck in a system with rampant corruption where the powerful prey on vulnerable communities. A recurring theme in this part of the storytelling is the importance of status quo, and the extent the rich and powerful would go to in order to maintain it. For example, a key dilemma arises for Singh when he is asked to frame a youth from the Bengali Bura neighbourhood, a community of Muslim-Bangladeshis, as a “terrorist” in order to justify a death during police crossfire. Through multiple incidents such as this, Sacred Games explores the refugee neighbourhoods, the working-class warehouses, the alleys, the road-side stalls, laced with Singh and his assistant Katekar's cynical commentary.
However, some of the social commentary feels contradictory in realtion to the greater story. For example, Radhika Apte's character, RAW agent Anjali Mathur, gives a monologue asking Sartaj Singh, “Why do you men always have to play the saviour? We don't need your saving!” She feels discriminated that she is offered a desk job as opposed to field work. While Anjali Mathur's character is supposed to bring a feminist tone to the story, she is ultimately written off by the scriptwriters just like all the other prominent female characters in the series. Although the female characters, such as Kukoo and Subadhra, are vocal and independent, they never manage to survive the first season, proving that they were only means to an end for other men. Especially when it comes to violence, women are often direct or indirect inspiration for them, reiterating the age-old Helen-of-Troy trope.
Speaking of tropes, there's too many in this series. The protagonist Sartaj Singh follows an overdone character arc akin to True Detective's Rustin Cole and Broadchurch's Alec Hardy—a righteous cop battling his own demons from fighting the good fight, hungover from a broken marriage, and abusing mental health medication. The only reason why Singh’s character still remains entertaining is because a slouching, unfit, and troubled, hero archetype is a rare sight in the Hindi-language-centric cinema and television which is saturated with testosterone-fuelled action heroes.
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