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Revenge is a powerful emotion. It has provided a great theme to many enduring stories over time, and for a reason. Its driving force, the underlying motivating factor, stems from a desire to attain justice against an injustice committed against one’s own self or those associated with the self. It can, in a way, serve as a means of restoring the cosmic moral balance, and also one’s dignity and place in the world.
But, at the same time, it can also morph into an all-consuming passion, requiring a sacrifice of other principles one may otherwise hold dear. This becomes particularly problematic when an officeholder harbours the principle of vendetta, since the position of power can be utilised to exact vengeance, blinding one to the demands of the office occupied. And it is even more egregious when vengeance may have a role to play in how a judge may come to render his decisions.
In the unique two-part movie, Gangs of Wasseypur, the audience is treated to this raw, unfiltered emotion, palpitating and passed on from one generation to another. Shahid Khan, first, seeks to avenge his father’s death. And then after Shahid’s death, his son, Faizal Khan, makes his entire existence about avenging the deaths of his father and grandfather. Timid by nature and physique, Faizal is transformed into a force to be reckoned with due to his thirst for vengeance.
In a memorable final scene, as Faizal prepares to finally settle all scores with Ramadhir Singh, the arch-nemesis behind the murders of his brother, father and grandfather, Faizal’s wife desperately implores him to consider his yet-to-be-born child before rushing towards his own death. Faizal, however, remains undeterred, blinded by the one real passion of his life. Even though a loving and considerate husband otherwise, Faizal puts all else aside, making everything subservient to his desire for revenge.
Justice must be done with the reviled, the abominable, the abhorred.
It may be a forgivable trait in a fictionalised local gangster, it is not an ideal governing emotion for politicians, generals and justices. As members and sympathisers of one political party were recently hounded, members of the other political parties openly and loudly celebrated. They reminded, justifiably so, that they were on the receiving end not so long ago. They endured these situations silently and stoically. And hence they jeered those they saw crumbling as the winds, nay, gales of forceful change blew, showing satisfaction on what appears to be a law of nature that what goes around comes around. In recent history, one party had been provided muscle to go after all others. Then the tables turned.
As the dismantling project proceeded, ordinary people, the rank and file, also came within its ambit. The treatment previously reserved for the alleged dissident Baloch and Pakhtuns was mainstreamed. Lessons needed to be taught, which, at times, meant that even the families needed to be harassed, threatened and humiliated. People had to be sent for visits to the northern areas. Threats worked for the most part, but some people needed to be broken down as well. Scores had to be settled.
Those aggrieved often had to appear in courts, with bowed heads in front of judges, who themselves may have had a few of their own scores to settle. The burning desire for personal revenge and justice, as a moral principle, may, at times, not go hand-in-hand. Being a judge requires that justice be done with the reviled, the abominable, the abhorred; that it be done with the people who may have committed wrongs themselves, to safeguard them against a disproportionate retribution; and more importantly, justice may also need to be done with those who may have wronged the judge himself.
“If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?” Shakespeare’s reviled Shylock sought to humanise himself, in front of an Elizabethan audience, which, at the time, had a firm conception of Jewish people being unforgivably greedy and vengeful. Shylock, in his famous monologue, also declared “[i]f you wrong us, shall we not revenge? … The villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction”.
If the one governing principle becomes revenge, perpetrated by the office-holders themselves, for both real and perceived slights, then there is a potential of it becoming a never-ending game. The only real incentive then is to be in a position where someone seeks to avenge themselves against you, but cannot. This may require entering deals, cutting corners and betraying all other espoused principles. But the thing about tables is that they keep turning.
The writer is a lawyer based in Islamabad.
Published in Dawn, January 6th, 2024
