Manodu Ram 's Dil Se...

Ram is a wonderful friend. He is an ad man next. He has big ideas, innovative ideas and risk taking ideas. He has thoughts that cut through some real truth and once exposed, resonate. Ram is about creativity and intellectual rigour: asking new questions, being fearless in exploring new concepts, following instincts, perceptions and intuitions. His first film Manodu is poignant, touching and memorable. That’s how I felt when I saw it for the first time and the third. I had to review the film for The Hindu and was groping for words, the film has some outstanding performances. If Ram isn’t such a genious how could he create such a brilliant piece of art? While his crowning achievement is yet to come, I just can’t wait to see his next piece of work. In this column Dil Se, catch some glimpses of Ram’s persona……..

AdGuru vs VedaGuru

It was 2003. 30 years after my dear dad died. 30 years since he was just 42 years old. 30 years since I was just 14. 30 years since I visited a temple or met a poojari. I forgot to mention, it was 30 years since my father built a Rama Temple in IDPL, colony where he worked as Assistant General Manager, and died the same year. 30 years since I said good bye to God.

I doubt anybody would love the lord for taking away his father. Even Ramadas (Not the movie hero Nagarjuna, the original one), had a problem digesting the fact that the Lord let him whimper in a jail for building a temple for him. Well, my emotions were worse, if not a mess. After all my father built a temple for Lord Rama and He got killed of a heart attack the same year. For me Lord Rama was not a jailer, he was a murderer. A murderer of my father, of my faith.

Thats it. I thought. Enough is enough. For 30 years I refused to look at my fathers murderer. I refused to enter his temple either built by dad, or someone else’s dad.

I am in advertising and Apollo Hospitals was one of my clients. The Chairman’s wife called me one day and said, "Ram you are a smart philosopher and always come out helping social causes. I want you to help Chinna Jeeyar Swamiji. He is committed to God. Only a blessed few get to serve him." You don’t have to think hard as to how I reacted. I asked her to take a walk. I was not seeing God, how and why on earth would I see or help a Godman. My conscience would shriek, or even wither, if I would help Chinna whoever swamy. But the beloved bhaktha, Mrs. Chairman wasn’t giving up easy. Finally, to save part of my business, I spent my conscience into the dustbin and appeared in front of Swamiji.

It was Bhakt Brindavan. Really. You wouldn’t believe it. But I haven’t seen so many happy faces in one place, ever. They were all falling at his feet. Nobody was allowed to touch his feet though. High-handed Brahmins or High-legged Brahmins I thought. They don’t even let us touch them and they want to touch society with love? What a Farce I thought. Saffron farce.

Finally we were alone together. His smile, I must admit was infectious. He said "Thank you for coming." I felt a pinch of guilt seeing his humility. "What can you do for me?" he asked. Though his presence and smile were overpowering my small, business-like, self-centered mind, I shrugged the power like a pig living in dirty water would shrug away pure water falling on its skin. "I will do a SWOT on you." I said sounding very conceit. Swamy was amused, "Whats a SWOT?" he asked. Bingo!, I got him by his hair even if he wasnt letting anyone touch his feet, I thought. And gave him some Advertising Gyan, "SWOT is a Strength, Weakness, Opportunity and Threat analysis. Based on these parameters I would design a marketing and advertising plan for popularizing You and Your views." I said in a voice which wouldnt sound any less than any Godman. After all this was Ad-guru speaking Himself. Very impressed by myself I opened my eyes after this upadesh to Swamy.

He was not at all impressed. He was looking as though he was shuffling thoughts. Then slowly a smile started appearing on his face. I started shrinking. "You are wrong he said." I was shocked. This was the latest western Gyan. I thought I had Him stumped. But the Googly came now straight from the Gods mouth. "You have quoted only four parameters there is the fifth one which you missed. And without the fifth one the four are aimless" he said driving the nail hard into my advertising coffin. He was humble and thoughtful as he said "I am not saying this, after all how can I know more than you" This cynicism was completely uncalled for. It felt more like rubbing salt into an advertising wound.

He said "It is written in our Vedas. To be exact it is written in the Artha-Panchangam." I was bowled. This was not a googly this was Rawilpindi Express painted in saffron bowling a yorker at my feet. The feet on which my advertising stands. He continued with his awesome smile, "The fifth one is Objective. What use will an analysis of Strength, Weakness, Opportunity and Threat be without a clear Object." Yes! I realized. If I had to make Swamy popular in India the SWOT would be different from making him popular in Pakistan. The Object would change the parameters.

He was right. My dad was right. My Vedas are right. In a nutshell I realized my past is right. I belong to a great fund of knowledge. All of us belong to a great fund of knowledge, a tradition that we shy away seeing a western influence. In fact Swamiji tells me how our Vedas were stolen from India by the Moguls, British and French. And all other invaders. He told me he saw our scriptures in German libraries. He says there is more literature of Vedas outside India, somewhere 100 times more literature, than we have today. The world is benefiting from our tradition, while we are wearing western blinkers. (Could be Ray ban.)

30 years since my darling dads death, I am at peace. I am at peace because I know him better, now. I am at peace with, Swamiji, because I know him better, now. I am at peace with life, because I know life better, now. Thank God for our Artha Panchangam, my Object is clearer.

I walked into a Temple and submitted myself to God.

Other Dil Se.. articles:
Peter Hein