Columnists

Where Are The Men?

by I.J. SINGH

 

Mind you, I celebrate wholeheartedly the achievements of young Sikh women today. 

That is not at all in question. But there are a few related mystifying matters that I must ask. They baffle me and, at the same time, they elate me.

I was thumbing through the program of the latest New York Spinning Wheel Film Festival, which was recently hosted by the Sikh Art and Film Foundation. 

I couldn't help but notice the names of the makers of many of the films exhibited in this venue and in the other Spinning Wheel chapters during the preceding twelve months: Ish Amitoj Kaur, Harpreet Kaur, Amrit and Rabindra Kaur, Harvind Kaur, Valerie Kaur, Reema Anand, Jaskaran Kaur, Mejindarpal Kaur and Shonali Bose. 

And I could add to the list, Gurinder Chadha; she stands apart from the others, for she has already made a mark in this genre, has been an articulate analyst and portrayer of Sikh culture, including its apparent contradictions, in the diaspora, and is an established financial success. 

Look at the names again.  Isn't it so clearly a women's world?

Before you take umbrage at my "hasty" judgment, let me assure you that I am familiar with the Punjabi movies of Harbhajan Singh Mann.  He has made several full-length films on themes that are dear to Sikhs (and Punjabis) in the diaspora, particularly those who have successfully carved a niche in the United Kingdom and North America.

I like Mann's work, but it has its limitations. His style is too Bollywood to grab those of us who have lived away from Punjab for almost a lifetime.  He also glosses over matters that might have political ramifications back in India.  This sensitivity may reflect the realities and the political climate in the mother country. 

Also, whenever Mann reaches a defining moment of conflict in the story, he tends to resolve the crisis by the Bollywoodian magic of song and dance.  He uniformly dilutes Sikh identity which has, at least outside India, acquired seminal importance for us, for it is under siege so often and in so many places in the world, including India.  And his movies are in Punjabi.

I find that Mann's work has greater appeal for the Sikh migrants who came here from Punjab relatively recently, and still feel the pull of their erstwhile homeland.  Their offspring, on the other hand, relate to this culture and country as their home and Sikhism as their faith.  The more recent the arrival from Punjab, the greater the pull of Harbhajan Mann and his movies. 

As far as the children of the migrants are concerned, their connections to the Punjabi culture portrayed by Bollywood and Mann are tenuous at best.

And that brings me back to the question I started with.  Why is it that so many of the Sikhs exploring on film the cultural and religious ethos of our Sikh existence in North America and Great Britain are women? Keep in mind, these are mostly young women. 

Where are the men? Where did they go?

I suppose for a certain generation, one could presuppose that men were preoccupied with making a living, while women who were largely non-working, or certainly not in driven and competitive careers, had the luxury to cogitate on the everlasting questions of our existence and the meaning of life.

But such facile reasoning is neither sane nor rational  -  certainly not anymore.

I notice that most of these young women are in highly competitive professions.  They are stockbrokers, investment bankers, lawyers, researchers and health professionals.  They travel on their jobs as often as men do; they compete with men and women in a society that worships competitiveness.  They are as equally educated as their male counterparts. No quarter is asked and none is given them. 

Most of these women are not full-time film-makers; their connection to this art form is highly variable, nor is every one a Sikh. But when they make community time, they often veer towards creative arts like film-making and writing.   (Just look at this site, sikhchic.com; there are many more women writers and columnists than men.)

Even though much has changed for the better, there is little doubt in my mind that the burden of running a house or raising young children stills falls inequitably on wives and mothers.  I say this in spite of the fact that the modern young men are far more likely to share some of the work of the house and family -  to a far greater extent than their fathers did in their times.

Yet, I understand an Internet site devoted to women film-makers (http://www.wmm.com/) lists over 500 such women; I am sure this number errs on the low side.

Could it be that women are born storytellers, much better than men?  But then, I see that history speaks of legendary storytellers who were almost exclusively men.  Just think of Birbal, Kalidas, Aesop, Homer and Shakespeare, for example.  Astute readers can supply their own examples from a spectrum of cultures across creation and time.

I suspect that neglect of women storytellers, like the absence of celebrated female chefs, largely reflects male myopia rather than facts on the ground.  After all, mothers are the first storytellers, as they orient their growing children to the values and traditions of a family and society.  Science suggests that infants who grow up listening to music, lullabies and conversation (stories) might turn out to be smarter and more wholesome adults.  And this is a task that is almost exclusively a mother's bailiwick in most cultures.  Women also remain the most imaginative chefs, as they struggle to feed a family even when little that is edible is available.

Men, too, are no mean storytellers.  Walk into any gathering of men  -  at a football game or a bar.  Their stories are unending and amusing; they can hold listeners spellbound with their tales of the fish that got away or the spin on their skill at golf.

Believe me, I celebrate the well-deserved and emerging prominence of women in the world of cinema.  They have claimed the turf, and rightly so. But then, why is the art of film-making in the Sikh diaspora dominated by young women who are largely raised outside Punjab? 

I really do not know.

Could it be that it all lies in the genes and that men are really from Mars, while women may indeed be from Venus, or some such friendlier place?

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