The death of a star

The passing of a loved one makes one suddenly and acutely conscious of one’s own mortality. In a country crazy about cinema and cricket, the massive public interest and outpouring of grief over the sudden death of Bollywood icon Sridevi, coupled with the non-stop media coverage, is understandable. It came as a shock to many of us, especially those who grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s when she reigned over the box office in not just Hindi cinema but in South India too.

Indeed, long before the aficionados of Hindi cinema fell in love with her histrionics, Sridevi had been the reigning queen of cinema in the south. Although immensely successful in the Mumbai cinema, thanks to Yash Chopra’s ‘Chandni’, ‘Lamhe’ and Shekhar Kapoor’s ‘Mr India’, her work up north doesn’t constitute even a quarter of what she had accomplished down south.

Sridevi is loved and admired in regional cinema for her extraordinary performances in some landmark regional films, which later went on to become blockbusters in Hindi cinema as well. Films like ‘Sadma’ with the gifted Kamal Hassan represent the milestones not just of her career but of Indian cinema itself.

Incredibly shy and humble in real life, the doe-eyed beauty had been a powerhouse of talent. She proved once again what a gifted actor she was with her recent comeback films, ‘English Vinglish’ and ‘Mom’, the latter with remarkable performances by Pakistani actors Adnan Siddiqui and Sajal Aly.

No wonder there is so much grief and bewilderment over her departure, and not just in India. Many of my Arab and Pakistani friends admired and loved her, just as they do many other Bollywood stars. The Pakistani media has eagerly followed all the developments, in sync with its fellow travellers across the border.

The unusual circumstances of her death and at the relatively young age of 54 make the tragedy even more poignant. Still, does it justify the endless, ceaseless 24/7 over-the-top coverage by the Indian media once again peddling what can be described as a pornography of emotions.

It is because of this perpetual need of the media to feed the popular hunger for information – any information – and trivia that it brings its so-called experts and ‘close friends and acquaintances’ out of the woodwork, dishing out all sorts of outlandish theories and absurd conspiracy theories.

Sridevi died last Saturday night but she has remained ubiquitous everywhere – in newspapers, on television and radio and in cyberspace. Every time one tuned into an Indian television channel, one was greeted with the same spectacle of assorted talking heads and anchors debating the tragedy and mystery of the actor’s death shutting out everything else. It seemed as if the world had come to a standstill. Everyone called it an ‘untimely tragedy’. But all deaths are tragic, aren’t they? Who has come here to live forever?

Death is the biggest reality of life and we all know it in our heart of hearts. We might pretend it otherwise, in the hectic chaos of our everyday lives. But the stark reality stares us in the face all the time while we are busy making money, building a career and our little palaces and castles in the air. Only we choose not to see it. It goes without saying when our time eventually comes, as it must come, none of these lovely possessions go with us.

As the Quran warns, “every living being must taste death.” Or as God says in the Bible, “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,” casting Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden.

So at the risk of sounding morbidly callous and insensitive, let me say this: All this noisy clamour over the death of an icon would make sense if all of us were here to stay forever. But to grieve over one’s loved ones is human nature. As I said, more than the pain of losing people we love, it is their departure that reminds us of the transient nature of our own existence in this world.

Besides, only we humans seem to think that our death or that of a loved one is the end of the world even though we are repeatedly warned by all scriptures that this is but a tiny fraction of what lies ahead in eternity.

John Donne, the great metaphysical poet and a Christian priest, wrote in one of his most popular sonnets: One short sleep past, we wake eternally,/ And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

People have also been upset over the excessive coverage of Sridevi’s death in Dubai by the Indian and international media, ignoring far serious tragedies like the continuing carnage in Syria. Again, it is human nature to respond to what is immediate and easy to relate to and ignore what is distant and remote – albeit much more painful and tragic. There is no hypocrisy involved. Besides, most tragic as it is, the carnage in Syria is an everyday occurrence now.

More importantly, when the relentless bloodshed and unprecedented humanitarian tragedy in Syria, now in its seventh year, raises few eyebrows in the neighbourhood, it is far from realistic to expect people in distant India to lose sleep over it.

Truth be told, the world community with all its fine and lofty institutions and august conventions and laws gave up on Syria and its besieged, helpless people long ago. The carnage in the besieged Ghouta killing hundreds of trapped civilians, most of them women and children, is hardly new. We have seen the same sorry spectacle again and again, in each of Syria’s great, timeless cities, with mind-numbing familiarity.

Since the Baathist regime of Bashar al-Assad began its onslaught on its people, more than 500,000 or half a million Syrians have died – well over a thousand killings a week. More than half of the country’s population now lives as refugees in neighbouring countries and further afield in Europe and the US.

As Ian Bond argues in the Guardian, the world is waiting for Assad and his loyal backers, Russia and Iran, to run out of people to kill. Moscow has vetoed at least 11 UN resolutions on Syria, rescuing Assad besides propping up his regime in other ways again and again.

Can you blame the media, if it has become fatigued and weary of the story of Syria’s tragedy? As Stalin reasoned, one death is a tragedy, one million a mere static. And that is what seems to have happened in this case.

For the media, the sudden death of a superstar in the dazzling setting of an iconic hotel overseas in Dubai in mysterious circumstances represents an endlessly promising, salacious drama to be made the most of. Syria, on the other hand, represents nothing but pain, tears and epic failure of humanity. And who would like to be reminded of pain and failure when they can celebrate the beautiful and spectacular?

The writer is an independent writer and former newspaper editor.

Email: aijaz.syed@hotmail.com