Thursday, September 09, 2010

I dreamt of Brutus and Mark Anthony in Kerala

I had a dream some years back. A strange dream it was. Why I should have dreamt of Brutus and Mark Anthony, I haven’t the vaguest idea. I had’nt thought of them/spoken of them around that time. Yet I dreamt about them.

I do not remember what Brutus had said. But I do remember seeing Brutus standing tall a erect, in the fatigues of a Roman soldier, earnestness and sincerity writ large on his face, speaking in a rather stiff, baritone voice with no dramatic intonation whatsoever. The blue shirt, green shirt, red shirt head load workers of Kerala who were listening to him were moved to tears, and quite unembarrassed about it.

The only words of Brutus that i recall is the oath he administered to the assembly, which the huge crowd of head load workers, with their right arms stretched out, repeated after him with a thunderous resonance. Here’s the oath:

WE THE HEAD LOAD WORKERS OF KERALA SHALL HITHERTO EARN OUR SALARY. WE SHALL NOT CLAIM NOKUCOOLIE. WE SHALL NOT OVERCHARGE FOR THE WORK WE DO. WE SHALL NOT USE ABUSIVE LANGUAGE.WE SHALL NOT THRUST OUR SERVICE ON PEOPLE. WE SHALL AMEND OUR BODY LANGUAGE. WE SHALL LEND DIGNITY TO OUR LABOUR BY PUTTING OUR HEART AND SOUL INTO OUR WORK AND PASSIONATELY ABIDING BY THE WORK ETHICS SPELT OUT BY OUR LEADER BRUTUS AND BY OUR COMMITMENT TO THE NEW AGENDA.


Wiping their eyes with the red thorthu on their shoulder they sat down and waited for the next speaker. In walked Mark Anthony. There was something wrong with the way he looked. I remember thinking in my dream, “hey, this guy is a fraud’. His face was exactly like Richard Burton’s – light eyed, light complexioned and receding forehead. That was OK. But he wore a shirt the front portion of which had two colours. On the left of the placket was red and on the right, blue. The sleeves were green and they were rolled up half way up the biceps. The red thorthu was on his head in the form of a cocky turban. He wore an atrocious lungi folded over well above the knee and tied over his ribs. Some striped inner wear almost reaching his knees was peeping out cheekily.

He walked in with a slovenly gait, a beedi smoking from his fingers. The crowd greeted him with boos, but quite unfazed, he walked up to the mike, put his right elbow on the lectern, took a deep drag on the beedi and blew the smoke in circles and watched them as the circles dispersed and disappeared into the air. The boos died down and the crowd too watched the circles forming and then becoming ill defined and disappearing.

Soon silence fell. Mark Anthony threw away the beedi and looked at the crowd with one end of his lips lifted in a crooked, scornful smirk.

‘So’, he said, ‘comrades, you are giving up your rights, eh?’

Silence greeted him.

‘Eh, eh eh?’ We went on without raising his voice too much.

‘You fickle minded fools’, he roared abruptly, making the audience sit up with a start. ‘You traitors’, he continued roaring.’ You have betrayed the blood, sweat and tears of generations of thinkers and leaders who laid down their lives, suffered torture at the hands of brutal police toeing the line of the bourgeoisie, to win you the rights to earn a living without working. And now you stupid proletariat, you want to work?’

‘You want to work? You want to live by the sweat of your brows? You want to earn you salary? Then GET OUT OF KERALA. YES’ he roared ‘GET OUT OF KERALA’

'Your leaders first struggled and fought, then pressurised all governments to wrest the sacred right to earn a fat sum without moving your little finger, and now you want to throw that right away? Ugh, ugh, ugh?’ He snorted into the mike.

‘No comrade, no’, shouted the audience.’ No’.

‘And what is this new agenda? New goal that Brutus put into your silly heads? Increase production? Whatever for? Why should you care about the size of the cake so long as you are assured by your unions that you get your share of the cake, EVEN IF THERE IS NO CAKE. Where in the world are there workers who get every month without fail their share of a nonexistent wealth ?’

‘Nowhere, nowhere., yelled the crowd.


‘Yes, nowhere in this world. Remember, nowhere. Only in Kerala. That's why it is called God’s own country. We earn without sweating. Don’t you know “thou shall live by the sweat of your brows" is God’s curse on Adam when the latter was driven out of Paradise where they did not have to work? Work is a curse. A punishment. Your leaders redeemed that lost paradise where man could eat, drink and be merry without working. That’s the paradise which God made for Adam and Eve. Your leaders have outsmarted governments, why even God himself to create a paradise for you here in Kerala, and now you want to throw it away? You want to throw it away, ugh?’

‘No, No’, they yelled.

‘Down with the traitor Brutus’, someone yelled.

‘And’, thundered Mark Anthony, ‘if Brutus has put the idea in your minds that the absence of generation of wealth in this paradise will throw cockroach in your Kanji (literal translation of Malayalam idiom meaning ‘deprive you of your livelihood’), let me tell you this. With more than 2 million malayali NRI’s slogging it out outside India, we the labour class will never starve.’

Thunderous applause.


‘Long live money order economy’, yelled Mark Anthony waving the read thorthu which he had ripped off his head with flourish.

LONG LIVE MONEY ORDER ECONOMY, shouted the crowd

I woke up with a start at the sound of the alarm clock. It was early morning. I had to board Madras Mail at 6.15 am after cooking breakfast for the family and packing lunch for my husband and two children. I dragged myself out of the bed thinking ruefully “Why wasn’t I born a head load worker?”

7 comments:

  1. I haven't read Frued's analysis of dreams, but have noticed that dreams are related to what I leave half-noticed during my waking hours. A thought not fully evolved, an experience not fully deciphered, a scene that had not been captured in the black and white frame of definitude...but the subconscious level in me goes after it in sleep to come up with dreams that can be interpreted at very various levels when conscious.
    This beautifully written piece, however, is in a lighter vein...And Shakespear's Mark Antony was all subtility steering the mood around from one direction to the other, wasn't he? In your dream he comes out a typical headload worker. Dreams have no logic.

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  2. I saw a movie called "Unaroo" recently. It was one of Mohanlal's earlier films. Maybe you saw this movie just before you had the dream. More or less the same :)

    But trade union leaders did not come like Mark Anhtony. They wore good clothes, lived like gentlemen and used the labourers for their benefit. The movie clearly sends out the message that trade unions in themselves were not villains. But the TU leaders destroyed the concept behind trade unions. They spoilt the labourers and now we have a seemingly uncontrollable monster - a monster which continues to grow in strength and power.

    This post makes me sad and angry!

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  3. Wow..I loved the style.It is a funny dream.It would have been easy if you had seen Achuvettan or Oommen Chandy in those roles.You dream in English too !

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  4. @ dr antony
    like venugopal sir said, at the back of our minds we search for couterparts for archetyal politicians like brutus and antony, the former a genuine and sincere statesman, and the other a survivor who sways the crowd with his glib tongue.
    thanks for the complmnt

    @ deepak
    u r rigt. TUs r manipulated by self seeking leaders whoses only purspose is to line their pockets.
    btw, welcome back - long time no see

    @ venogopal
    thanks.
    yes . dreams have no logic. logic is supplied by the conscios mind which is inactive when asleep. I guess then all the impressions that have sunk into the bottomless well called the subconscious mind suface in a crazy surrealistic manner, liberated from the oppressive control of the rational conscious mind.

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  5. After the outburst of laughter subsided, I straightened my face and read it again. Mark Antony was a chilling reminder of reality. At every single of his 'ugh', I mentally shivered.

    And to think I loved Richard Burton in 'Cleopatra'! :D

    But you know as well that satire or a poke in the ribs with a knife is not going to change these people ever! And why should they? Unlawful earning, by any method, is admired by us!

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  6. Wow!

    nd in the end, the NRI takes the blame.. sob sob....

    while it is true too..

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  7. Hilarious, satirical and contemporary matter.
    But the intensity is haunting, hurting and disturbing.
    The sad affair in the state is well brought out.

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