In praise of India's mothers
It's called India's Daughter, but it's actually a salute to India's mothers, and only an extraordinarily silly government would ban Leslee Udwin's film in the age of YouTube.
The BBC film in the eye of the storm - which brings back memories of the last century with Indira Gandhi throwing out Mark Tully and Nargis railing in Parliament about Satyajit Ray peddling poverty abroad - is a remarkable tribute to the women of India. What Mukesh Singh says about women is exactly the kind of misogyny one expects from several men, but the courage of the mothers Udwin's camera records is astounding.
There's Jyoti's mother, Asha Devi, speaking softly but with firm resolve about her daughter, about how their family never distinguished between her and her brothers. About how they thought nothing of selling their ancestral land to finance her studies. There's Usha Saxena, accompanied by her daughter, who went out on to the streets in December 2012 to protest against what was done to Jyoti. The rape was like a "slap in my face," she says, as her daughter nods. "The pain united us."
There's Leila Seth, speaking from experience and with utter conviction, of what changed on December 2012. "These things will change. It's only a question of how hard we push," she says.
And there's Ram and Mukesh Singh's mother. It's her struggle too, of raising her children in poverty, living a hand to mouth existence. Yes, her sons are monsters, and nothing epitomises it more than Mukesh's unblinking utterances about women's place in society and how they should react to rapes, but as the psychiatrist in the documentary says, these are our monsters. "We have to take responsibility for them." They cannot be shushed. They have to be transformed.
No one knows this better than India's mothers, the unsung women who slave at work, in offices, building sites, other people's homes, their own homes. Who try to keep their families together. Who try to raise their children with the right moral values in a world where everything is in a state of flux. Who fight every day against the deeply ingrained patriarchy we all have been conditioned to live with. Don't tell us what to wear, tell your sons not to rape, was a popular slogan in those angry days in December 2012. Don't police your girls, said Narendra Modi from Red Fort on August 2014. "Tell your sons how to behave." Indeed, India's mothers are the engine that drives India, which is why Asha Devi is a personal hero. Simple, clear-headed, steely spined, she has kept alive the memory of her daughter, and understood very quickly that Jyoti's ambitions were those of any other young woman. At one point in the documentary, her husband asks, what is the meaning of a woman today?
To me, the meaning of a woman today is a mother like Asha Devi, who had the courage to raise her daughter to look the world in the eye, as an equal; as a girl who dreamed big, and worked hard to fulfil it, sleeping barely three-four hours a day; a girl who even after suffering unimaginable brutality can still say, I'm sorry. I gave you so much trouble - which still brings tears to Asha Devi's eyes and of anyone else who watches Udwin's documentary.
It's that attitude India's mother has to change - that India's daughter should be apologetic about her existence. And of India's son who makes her feel that sentiment.