mahashivratri and the caves . 'colossal youth'

there is a new collision course being laid out over a historical artifact in our own little corner of the world. after years of being neglected by all concerned, the archaeological survey of india, the municipal corporation and the local community, be they hindu, muslim of catholic, there has been manufactured a sudden resurgence of interest in the mandapeshwar caves near by. with the elections just around the corner the annual mahashivratri festival- generally a relaxed low key event of lighting diyas all across the courtyard in front of the caves has been turned into a tackily produced mega event. electric lights shimmer on the lone tree in the courtyard, halogens burn in the interior, a huge statue of ahilyabai holkar is installed holding a shivling to underscore her dutiful devotion. under the patronage of right wing hindutva groups the long forgotten caves has received a new lease of life as an object that symbolizes the atrocities commited by marauding invaders upon ‘our’ culture. vinyl posters depict the replacement of a sculpture by a cross hand carrying a pick axe,; and the building of the church right above the caves. the church is itself a protected monument under the asi. on a hastily assembled stage with plastic chairs laid out in front local kirtan singers interrupt shrill remixed versions of bhajans on the speakers. local boys from the shivaji nagar slum opposite help in organizing the event- collecting shoes and making sure that no devotee stays too long rapt in front of the ceramic tiles installed within the cave that serve as the backdrop for the idol. the difficult thing for me to get around to understanding is this- shouldn’t we be glad about the interest in the upkeep of the caves? granted that it is being done rather tackily right now. but does that mean that with the right kind of stone cleaning and paving this appropriation for reactionary purposes is something we should stand by? i’d rather sometimes let the caves die.

the spaces in ‘colossal youth’ shrink horizontally until they crowd the characters in the frame in shallow rooms- dark interstices within the city. there is rarely a horizon to be seen. even the windows looking out over the city burn out into a scaleless white. the film was shot in a slum of lisbon with real characters playing versions of themselves as the neighborhood undergoes reconstruction. the decrepit tight rooms are being systematically replaced by sterile white spaces where older relationships might not survive. our central character is ventura- an aging immigrant labourer from cape verde who wanders through the living spaces of many individuals who might be his children. he stands like a mythical narrator in whose presence the stories of each of the actors become mirrors into the lives of the migrant and the dispossessed. through the entire film i was reminded of john bergers ‘seventh man’ and his poems on the love, identity and longing of the migrant. there is a love letter recited like a chant many times in the film to a lover back home whose silence at the other end gets more and more deafening.