Hegemony & Resistance: Ray, Sen, And Subaltern Voices

Ishani Routh is an independent scientist working at the intersection of film and literature. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English from Rani Birla Girls’ University and an MA in English Literary Works from St Xavier’s University (Autonomous), Kolkata. This interdisciplinary focus has actually taken her to prominent online forums such as the BritGrad Seminar, the Mrinal Sen Meeting organised by the Film Academy at St Xavier’s University, Ramakrishna Mission Vidyamandira, and several others. Her magazines also deal with film as a literary message, most just recently in a volume released by Adamas College.

Yet, the collapse of the regime begins when that belief is damaged. The system grows only as long as the masses hold it up; once they remove their assistance, as soon as they reject to believe, the pyramid falls apart. The leaders, as soon as untouchable, now panic; the director’s control room falls short. It’s in this moment of failure when the subaltern finds its voice, not as a whisper, however as a cumulative roar.

The Pyramid of Power and Subaltern Resistance

These films remain even more than mere antiques of a past age. In the so-called “postcolonial” world, numerous nations have continued to duplicate the very systems that as soon as oppressed them.

That is why “Hirak Rajar Deshe” and “Chorus” sustain functioning as collective memories– not simply of manifest destiny, however of the resistance to it. They reveal us exactly how to remember, just how to see, and just how to act. They advise us that freedom is not a gift bied far by the powerful, yet a fire lit by the powerless when they come together.

Films as Collective Memories of Resistance

Both these films concerns the absurdity that we generally connect with existence and gripe of its situation, whereas the dilemma is produced within the system, under our nose, and we somewhat, take part in it and sustain it by our laziness and detachment, leading to consequences that we suffer yet we remain to sustain. What Ray and Sen asked us to do is to gain our awareness and participate in this system proactively and challenge these crisis-makers. Like Udayan Pandit, we must free our minds from hegemonic captivity– and like the employees rallying outside the fortress, we have to unify to develop our own counter-hegemony, one that can forge clear, cumulative, and undaunted political resistance.

Udayan Pandit is the natural intellectual Gramsci envisioned– one rooted in the individuals, resisting from within. They largely start their functions as court performers, apparently harmless, yet turn performance into politics.

In both movies, power is not preserved through physical violence alone, yet via adjustment of idea and illusion; whether it is the despotic king that uses the “Jantar Mantar” to brainwash people right into submission, or the company magnate that sells desires to 30,000 jobless hopefuls with no actual purpose of hiring, the authoritarians construct their regulation on ideological hegemony– a system so pervasive that it convinces the suppressed to participate in their own injustice.

Hegemony: Control through Illusion and Thought Manipulation

Their enchanting songs end up being weapons of resistance. The exact same devices when utilized to regulate the masses are now utilized to free them. Where once there was silence, now there is music; where as soon as there was submission, currently there is resistance, giggling, and happiness.

In “Chorus,” the 30,000 applicants aligning for a handful of work represent a cumulative portrait of despair– a grandpa, an orphaned boy, a helpless little girl– all clinging to a desire that’s been commodified. The two-rupee application fee, substantial at the time, exhibits exactly how capitalism sells incorrect hope. In spite of the possibilities of work being almost nonexistent, the people continue to send to the system due to the fact that they’ve been conditioned to think they have no choice.

Gramsci’s concept of social hegemony goes to the heart of both films. The king’s necessary “Hirak Rajar Prayer” and the business director’s fake work kinds are both devices of indoctrination. They work to get rid of dissent and acclimate inequality. Nonetheless, this hegemony is not permanent as it starts to crack when individuals within the system begin to see through the impression– like the reporter in “Carolers,” who, though peaceful and removed, stands up a mirror to society, or the Udayan Pandit in “Hirak Rajar Deshe,” who enlightens children to assume seriously also under hazard of expatriation.

Gramsci’s Hegemony: Indoctrination and the Cracks of Dissent

The luster of these movies exists in just how in different ways they achieve the exact same end. This is where entertainment becomes fight with the truth, where the films make us question our reality.

As Upendra Baxi notes in “Postcolonial Legality: A Postscript from India,” the postcolonial remains an abnormally “flexible and resistant” term– in part due to the fact that postcolonialism critiques the very early american systems that shaped it. There lies a paradox at the heart of the postcolonial condition, for it stands up to structures acquired from colonial guideline while also being haunted by them. And this paradox unfolds most powerfully in movie theater, where art merges with reality to disclose uncomfortable truths– ones that we usually passively accept as “normal” or unavoidable. 2 such films, Satyajit Ray’s “Hirak Rajar Deshe” and Mrinal Sen’s “Chorus,” blend fantasy and satire, realistic look and song, to use searing reviews of control, power, and resistance.

It is literary works, it is background, as well as it is a display that mirrors back our truth. These movies do not merely mirror the world– they improve it, challenging viewers to damage their silence, speak their truth, and visualize a world where the subaltern no much longer whispers, yet sings.

2 such movies, Satyajit Ray’s “Hirak Rajar Deshe” and Mrinal Sen’s “Chorus,” mix fantasy and realistic look, witticism and track, to use hot critiques of control, power, and resistance.

Gramsci’s theory of cultural hegemony is at the heart of both movies. Both these movies inquiries the absurdity that we generally attach with presence and gripe of its dilemma, whereas the crisis is created within the system, under our nose, and we to some degree, take part in it and support it by our laziness and detachment, leading to consequences that we grumble of yet we continue to endure. These movies stay more than mere antiques of a bygone age. These films do not simply mirror the world– they improve it, testing visitors to damage their silence, speak their truth, and visualize a world where the subaltern no longer murmurs, yet sings.