I’ve Seen ‘Mohenjo Daro’ And It’s Not A Right-Wing Conspiracy 

In 2011, in Tamil Nadu, a movie titled Paalai was released. It had Harappan symbols in its posters. Purportedly telling the history of ancient Tamils during the Sangham age, the movie essentially placed a visual narrative of racial interpretation of ancient Indian history before the audience. The local Tamil leaders were given names like “Vrithura”. The “others” were identified as those who came from outside. In short, it was a case of “Aryan” versus “Dravidian”.

Then, in 2012, came Shudra: the Rising by director Sanjiv Jaiswal. It again rehashed the same Aryan invasion story and gave a racial basis to the varna (caste) system. Dr Ambedkar in his critical study, Who Were the Shudras?, had exactly refuted the main thesis of the movie. He had stated that the Shudras were not Dasyus and that there was no Aryan invasion and that the Dasyu-Arya was not a racial binary. Jaiswal, in a calculated insult to the scholarship of Dr Ambedkar, dedicated the movie to Dr Ambedkar.

Throughout such blatant misrepresentations of history in films, and in the arena of political rhetoric, India’s “eminent historians” have maintained a strict vow of silence. This is, indeed, an interesting phenomenon. Usually, social scientists vocal in the media would stand in the forefront when fighting racial stereotypes of a colonial past persisting in the society. In India, this is exact opposite.

Despite the fact that the colonial racial narrative has been challenged and even demolished to a great extent, through the works of archeologists and population-geneticists, the “eminent historians’” decry any attempt to popularise these scientific developments in the public psyche.

Ashutosh Gowariker’s movie ‘Mohenjo Daro’ provides one such interesting incident. Here is a typical example of ‘scholarly’ response to the very trailer of the movie: “With no clear disclaimer for the liberties taken with the portrayal of the historical site, Gowariker’s Mohenjo Daro shows an unambiguous deference to the popular myths of our times. Hindutva forces are in the habit of making mythology synonymous with history, and their cause is starting to enter into our popular entertainment media.” Subsequently there was widespread attacks in the social media from the leftwing warriors who deciphered a great Hindutva conspiracy in the movie.

But was it really?

All these prompted this writer to go and watch it. The movie actually starts with a very clear disclaimer about the deficiency of our knowledge regarding the real nature of the language and culture the Mohenjodaro people spoke and practiced. Nevertheless, one should say the movie has come up with an impressive reconstruction of the Indus valley town. The movie tries to show as much as possible in a Hindi movie.

There is neither pure glorification nor demonisation of any people. The visuals of Mohenjodaro are stunning. Good graphics as well as carefully made Bollywood sets make the viewers feel the historic reality of Mohenjodaro’s social life. The city is made to look cosmopolitan for its time. It is also segregated into upper and lower parts. All these depictions can be substantiated by what archeology says about Mohenjodaro. The movie team needs to be congratulated here.

Then, however, the usual Hindi movie takes place. After twenty minutes into the movie one cannot but feel that we are watching a DDLJ, set in Mohenjodaro. The dances are the pathologically typical hip gyrations of the Bollywood kind. And to add variety there is even a Dervish swirl. Marx and Macaulay forbid that their memetic descendants do not discover the nefarious Hindutva designs of saffronization of Dervish traditions.

Even beyond that romantic clone stories that plague Bollywood, there are interesting asides, like the presence of horses. The residents of Mohenjodaro get bewildered by the animal which they have never seen and which are imported by the Mongolians. Now that should explain how the remnants of the notorious ‘Aryan steeds’ (equus callbus) could be found in Surkatoda, without the film makers getting into the ugly whirlpool of Indological McCarthyism, linking any mention of horse in Indus valley to Hindutva agenda.

The famed unicorn itself becomes the vehicle of ‘Sindu Ma’ – Mother Indus. And the ruler tried to dam the river. There are certain festivals – including a full moon festival – with a romantic undercurrent. One can now say from Mohenjodaro to DDLJ, there is a Bollywood continuity. Now would that count as jingoistic Hindutva?

The really interesting part of the movie starts after the intermission though. Here, the movie makes two interesting contentious claims, which make up for all its steering clear of the steed and Saraswathi controversies. One is that the people abandoned the city because of an ecological disaster – a veritable Indus flood, which was largely man made. One may say that this is an attempt to look at the present through the rear view mirror of the past.

While in the late 1960s hydrologist Robert Raikes and archeologist George Dales had proposed a theory that floods were the reason for the decline of Mohenjodaro, it might not have been as dramatic as the movie shows. But then movies do need dramatic catastrophes. Archeologist Posshel though contended this view. These discussions on the downfall of Indus valley urban centers happened after Dales conclusively proved that there was no massacre at Mohenjodaro as suggested by colonial archeologist Sir John Mortimer Wheeler.

Yet most of our textbooks and popular political narratives were clinging on to the outdated ‘invasionist’ model of the collapse of Mohenjodaro. This movie in a way updates the public psyche with the academic debate.

Second the movie ends with the same Indus Valley people moving and settling by a new river – the Ganga. In other words it bats for a cultural and ethnic continuity from the Indus Valley to Gangetic valley civilizations. Then there is the subtle hint. The hero battles the villain who had dammed the river and who tried to create a coalition with the merchants. This is remarkably similar to the Panis siding with Vrithura who dammed the waters causing drought. Thus there is a subtle linking between the Vedic legend and the story line of the movie – but then the implication would be that the Vedic hymns were post Indus Valley.

If the movie suggests a post–Mohenjodaro date to Vedic hymns then it could not well go with a nefarious Hindutva design, cruelly depriving our secularists the pleasure of discovering one. Tsk tsk. Nevertheless they can cling on to the depiction of continuity between the Indus and Gangetic valley civilizations. As far as the acting skills of hero, heroine, villain and the rest, they are as good as any average Bollywood movie which is not exactly that good, though one shudders to think of any famous Khan as the hero. Music is unobtrusive and a bit too modern.

Despite all the shortcomings, the movie is a brave attempt to look at the ancient Indian heritage and bring it to the public psyche – informing them of the two basic changes that unearthed empirical evidence has brought to the colonial narrative: that Indus valley (or Indus-Saraswathi valley) civilization did not disappear but suffered and got a set back because of natural disasters and that there is a strong continuity and transformation rather than discontinuity between the Indus-Saraswathi and Gangetic civilisations.

And that is no mean achievement. The movie is definitely a good family entertainment and may even stroke interests in the young minds for the mystery of Indus-Saraswathi civilization.