On the ‘Annapoorani’ debate: the tyranny of taste

The deafening silence of the artistic community after the CBFC-cleared film was unceremoniously cancelled from public viewing is yet another example of doublespeak in the creative arena

January 26, 2024 12:37 pm | Updated 01:24 pm IST

The film, pulled from Netflix after right-wing outrage, argues that food is an emotion

The film, pulled from Netflix after right-wing outrage, argues that food is an emotion

Art can render visible and known what was hitherto unspoken. One of the temples that Prime Minister Narendra Modi visited in the run-up to the consecration ceremony of the Ram Temple in Ayodhya was the famous Ranganathaswamy Temple in Srirangam. Interestingly, the sprawling abode of Ranganatha, a form of Lord Vishnu, is also featured in the Tamil film Annapoorani. The inspiring story of a Brahmin priest’s daughter who wants to become a top chef made the news when it was unceremoniously taken off by Netflix after some Hindu groups complained that the film about food was in bad taste.

Finding the ‘unique’ in art

The film argues that food is an emotion. Early in the Nayanthara-starrer, the priest who prepares the offering for the lord whets the curiosity of a set of tourists by explaining the legend of Tulukka Nachiyar or Bibi Nachiyar, “the Muslim lady” that is documented in the temple records. Painted on the wall of the corridor that is adjacent to the sanctum of one of the oldest temples in India, he says, the real name of Tulukka Nachiyar was Surathani and that she was the divine consort of Lord Ranganatha.

right-wing groups lodged complaints saying the film had hurt the feelings of Hindus

right-wing groups lodged complaints saying the film had hurt the feelings of Hindus

Said to be the daughter of Malik Kafur, the general of Delhi Sultan Allauddin Khilji, she developed a bond with the idol that her father and his army had looted from the temple in the 14th century. The Vaishnavites plotted to get the idol back and succeeded, not realising the deep affection that Surathani had developed for the Lord. She rushed to Srirangam followed by the Sultanate’s army but could not find the idol. Devastated, she perished at the door of the temple waiting for her lord. Since then she is entrenched in the collective memory of the devotees. The day’s first offering comprises north Indian chappatis, butter, and dal and it is offered to the lord’s consort as well. On special occasions, the idol is wrapped in a red, checkered veshti. It is perhaps the only temple in the country where a Muslim is venerated as a goddess by the Hindus. This is the tolerance and accommodation that our civilisation is known for.

The role of art is not to find what is common but what is unique and it is the uniqueness of our diverse culture that Annapoorani serves on the table in no uncertain terms. In its structure, the Nilesh Krishnaa film is a regular story of an underdog laced with a predictable background score but it provides the lay audience plenty to chew on how caste still limits career options and how a young, enterprising woman is not allowed to own up to even her mistakes.

Merely skimming the surface

The spoiler is warranted because right-wing groups lodged complaints in police stations in Bharatiya Janata Party-ruled States that said the film had hurt the feelings of Hindus as it promoted Love Jihad. They were offended because the priest’s daughter in the film has a Muslim friend, Farhan, who helps her get over her inhibition to cook and taste non-vegetarian food by citing verses from the Valmiki Ramayan that indicate that Lord Ram and Lakshman consumed meat during exile.

Those who can read the film can see the bond between Annapoorani and Farhan in the context of the introductory mythical tale but those with fragile sensitivities in the current socio-political milieu find the depiction fitting into their definition of a conspiracy theory about Hindu women being seduced to convert to Islam.

Notably, the film was cleared by the Central Board Of Film Certification (CBFC) and had a smooth theatrical run in December. The controversy arose only after the Hindi dub of the film was released on the OTT platform at a time when the countdown to the grand Ayodhya event had begun. Since then, the producer and the lead actor, have apologised for inadvertently hurting sentiments, and artistic freedom in the country has taken yet another hit.

It seems those who pick on mainstream films deliberately watch them selectively in bits and pieces and don’t appreciate the overall intent of the makers. It is not new malaise, though. Those who grew up during the Congress rule would remember the hoopla over Steven Spielberg’s Indian Jones And The Temple of Doom for showing monkey meat being served in India.

Last year, a senior minister from the BJP-ruled Madhya Pradesh took umbrage over the saffron bikini of Deepika Padukone in Pathaan but when the film released and it was discovered that the actress is playing a Pakistani Muslim, the opposition petered out. Then the Ministry of Information & Broadcasting sought an explanation from the CBFC for not chopping off a scene in Oppenheimer where the protagonist is reading Bhagwat Gita during a deeply intimate scene. The fact that the father of the atom bomb is known to have structured his life around the philosophy of the revered Hindu text didn’t cut ice with those who wanted to skim only the surface in the face of an outcry on social media.

It is not that the charges went completely uncontested. Former CBFC member and seasoned filmmaker Dr. Chandraprakash Dwivedi who faced FIRs and an official ban for Mohalla Assi, told this journalist that in his opinion it was not the victory of Hindu ethos but the victory of the Victorian mindset towards sex wherein sex is considered a sin. Known for meticulous research, the director of Chanakya said, “In many Hindu scriptures union of man and woman is described as sacrifice — a yagya.”

After the Annapoorani controversy, noted artist Shuddhabrata Sengupta wrote a social media post where he cited references to hunting and meat-eating from Valmiki Ramayan. Describing himself as an atheist who read Valmiki Ramayan as an epic poetry in Sanskrit, Sengupta went on to say there was nothing wrong in a Muslim citing from a Hindu text, for one of the most accessible translations of Valmiki Ramayan into English is by Sanskrit scholar Arshia Sattar who happens to be a Muslim.

The need to protect creative freedom

Nayanthara in a still from ‘Annapoorani’

Nayanthara in a still from ‘Annapoorani’

Another scene of Annapoorani that offended sensitive taste buds was when the protagonist was shown offering namaaz before cooking Ambur biryani during the climax. Annapoorani performs the ritual because Farhan’s vegetarian mother, from whom Annapoorani learnt the art, told her that it adds to the taste. It irked the self-appointed custodians of faith but when a Muslim scholar, during the television coverage of the Ram Temple event, said that the Persian word namaz has its roots in the Sanskrit word Namah (reverence), it was lapped up. Why is it that the former is often opposed and the second is usually welcomed? It is the same when Bade Ghulam Ali Khan sings raga Yaman in praise of goddess Saraswati or Ustad Vilayat Khan renders raga Bhairav or for that matter Mohd Rafi sings ‘Man Tarpat Hari Darshan Ko Aaj’— it becomes a symbol of syncretic culture. However, when Salim-Javed makes Vijay don badge no 786 in Deewar, ulterior motives are seen in it in retrospect.

Often such debates end abruptly when someone says, “Oh! you don’t dare to question the orthodoxy in other religions.” There is no point in becoming the mirror image of something that looks atavistic and feels intolerant. Having said that there are examples like Secret Superstar (2017) where the desire of a young Muslim girl to become a singer is almost put to an end by her father in the name of culture and religion. Then Mee Raqsam (2020) tells the story of a Muslim father who supports his daughter’s desire to become a classical dancer while standing up to the orthodox clergy.

The controversy, once again, brings out the doublespeak of the reigning guardians of free speech. If we truly believe in Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam (the world is one family), if we pontificate from pulpits that the DNA of all Indians is the same, can we say that the kitchen of goddess Annapurna, on whom the protagonist is named, will prepare only one kind of cuisine or will feed only people of one faith, one taste?

Moreover, the film engages in an interesting debate on taste. When Annapoorani loses her sense of taste, one of her core strengths, because of an accident, her mentor instills confidence in her by reminding her that no one tastes the prasad before it is served to the god but it still tastes great. By the end of the film, Annapoorani rises above the handicap of taste to push the boundaries of her art, and her emotion. As Marcel Duchamp, the father of conceptual art famously said, taste is the enemy of art.

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