user: Brahman Naman review - Bangalore teen comedy scrutinizes caste system

Forget the jocks who spend their time dead-lifting and perfecting their wedgie techniques. It’s the Shakespeare-loving horny geeks we all need to watch out for. That’s the message from Qaushiq Mukherjee’s (aka Q) coming of age comedy set in 1980s Bangalore, with a focus on the love lives (or lack thereof) of a group of sex-starved “quizzers”.

Well, sex-starved might be taking it a bit far. Head geek Naman (played by Shashank Arora) does manage to fornicate … with a fridge door and a fish tank (really). But just as in US teen comedies such as Porky’s and American Pie, he’s got his eyes set on something more unattainable. And as in those movies, there is a bully – in this case the suave cricket star Ronnie (Sid Mallya).

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But this is where Mukherjee departs from the American formula and instead inserts a healthy scrutiny of India’s caste system. Naman is Brahman but Rita – the object of his affections/rampant lust – isn’t, which is a bit of a problem. Throughout the film are reminders, peppered among spontaneous outbursts of song, that bigotry can be just as big an obstacle when it comes to true love as anything else.

Things seem to be running more smoothly when he meets Naina (Anula Shirish Navlekar), who is a member of the Madras quiz team, a bunch taking part the national championship. She’s Brahman, funny and beautiful, but her dad isn’t too impressed with Naman. Then there’s Ash, a young woman whom Naman treats like something he’s just stepped on, quite possibly because he believes she’s from a lower caste. She isn’t, of course.

Q’s morality tale isn’t without laughs. The quizzers are adept at alluding to and meshing together the greats of English literature with crude dick jokes. There’s fun internal bickering among the lads, mostly about bovine sex, but what writer Naman Ramachandran best captures is the sexist, selfish creed to which the groups at hand subscribe.

Summary: Qaushiq Mukherjee blends English literature and bovine sex jokes in 1980s-set film that departs from American high school comedy formula


The Female Leaders of Rwanda

NAIROBI — The proportion of women heads of state worldwide is paltry: about 11 percent [pdf]. In North Africa, despite recent dramatic changes in regimes, the new boss looks much like the old; he is still male.

But south of the Sahara lies a more promising story.

The Nobel laureate Ellen Johnson Sirleaf is in her second term as Liberia’s president. Malawi’s newest chief executive is Joyce Banda, a vice president who peacefully transitioned to power following the death of the longtime ruler Bingu wa Mutharika. And last week, Senegal held the first round of parliamentary elections in which half of all candidates must be women. The results are still out, but female representation should increase from the current 23 percent.

Similar quotas have been passed in 20 sub-Saharan nations, six of which top the world in female representation. Rwanda is number one, with 56 percent of seats in Parliament held by women. These figures put African countries well ahead of the United States, France and Japan, which are just at or fall below the 19 percent mark.

It’s a shift from traditionally patriarchal power structures, with a potentially large payoff. Aloysia Inyumba, Rwanda’s former minister for gender, told me at a conference for women’s history month in South Africa, “There’s a general understanding and appreciation that if things are going to be better in Africa, women are going to have a key role.”

The very presence of female politicians has been shown to diversify the policy agenda and promote equity and justice. Banda, for one, stood up to the African Union when it planned to host President Omar Hassan al-Bashir of Sudan, who is wanted by the International Criminal Court, at a summit meeting in Malawi’s capital. After Banda announced that she would allow Bashir to be extradited if he came, the male-dominated regional body moved the summit to Ethiopia.

Of course, obstacles to female participation in politics persist. Here in Kenya, a new Constitution mandates that one-third of seats in Parliament be held by women, but in a front-page roundup of candidates for next year’s presidential election, the biggest local daily failed to mention the former minister Martha Karua, who is running. And then there’s Kenya’s Elections Act, passed in 2011, which requires higher education for anyone seeking higher office.

In Kenya and elsewhere, career politicians with name recognition and money to burn win regional elections but then struggle to make decisions regarding national security, agricultural policy, fiscal issues and free speech. According to Mzalendo, a Kenyan watchdog group, just 37 percent of the members of Kenya’s current parliament have secondary degrees “from a university recognized in Kenya.”

Though basically well intentioned, the law risks stifling women’s participation. Before primary schooling in Africa became free, bias favoring male children left many girls out of the educational loop. While millions of the earlier generations did receive quality instruction, most females at the age of community leadership are far from Ph.Ds.

I’m all for informed policymaking, but the belief that fancy education means intelligent leadership has its flaws. Humility, business experience, social connections and emotional intelligence are at least as important as fluency in the academy.

Women in Nairobi are having more casual sex. Too bad Kenya’s policies about sexual health aren’t keeping pace with mores.

To encourage worthy female candidates, the idea of what qualifies someone for higher office should be broadened, not limited. Beth Mugo, the Kenyan public health minister who enjoys one of the better track records for service delivery and responsiveness, earned her stripes running a television station and helping women borrow money so they could start businesses.

Banda herself was mocked — and by the outgoing first lady — for having once worked as a market vendor. She came up with an easy retort: “I’m proud of it because the majority of women in Malawi are like us.” They’re enterprising, creative, hard-working — fit for office.

Dayo Olopade is a journalist covering global politics and development policy. She is writing a book about innovation in Africa.

Summary:

assistant: Many sub-Saharan African countries are well ahead of Western states in terms of female representation in politics. The payoff could be huge.