Pic courtesy: The Hindu
L Suresh visits an era
in which superheroes wear blue, red, green, yellow and black, but display only
one shade – grey.
Two little boys were hiding behind a barrel, watching their
fruit-seller dad being pounded to pulp by the street thugs. He hadn't paid the mafia
its cut, parts of which would go to the boss, the local politician, government
officials, law enforcement officers, judges and everyone else who was on the
take. With tear-laden eyes and fear-stricken hearts, the young duo shrank back
into their hiding place, waiting for the goons to disappear with their father's
earnings. Tonight, there would be no supper. And tomorrow, if their dad didn't
pay up, there would be no shop either.
What those kids – and the rest of the world – needed was a
comforting thought that they could go to bed with. One promising them that
tomorrow would be better, that the bad guys could get beaten, that someone
stronger would come and fight evil, that fathers could tend to their business
without being bludgeoned into handing over their earnings to the underworld.
While this could have been the opening scenes of a superhero
story, it was reality back in the late 20s and the early 30s, when the United
States had a huge fall from the heady heights of economic progress and went
into a tailspin. It is ironical that prohibition was brought into effect in the
1920s to eliminate the evils of alcohol, like corruption, crime, poverty,
violence and a debauched society, because it brought in the evils of
bootlegging and spurious hooch - corruption, crime, poverty, violence and a
debauched society.
Thus, a massive stock market crash had brought in much grief
and the great depression, political decisions had ushered in prohibition - and
poverty had introduced crime. The United States found itself shackled,
handcuffed and strait-jacketed, all at the same time. And it would take magic
of Houdini-esque proportions to come out of it.
Come 1933, a new government would begin infusing life into
the economy, but people needed a little spark that would rekindle hope in their
hearts, assuring them that all would be well. Their prayers were answered with
more than a spark - what ensued was an explosion in a faraway planet named
Krypton. And a little space shuttle found its way to earth, lodging itself in a
little field in Kansas. Blue and red, the united colours of America, now stood
for a saviour, one who could straighten anything from a crooked rail track to a
crooked mind, and who fought for the downtrodden and oppressed, ensuring that
justice prevailed.
Superman was immediately followed by Batman, Captain Marvel,
the Green Lantern and a galaxy of other superheroes. While the superheroes were
attired in an eclectic mix of colours, the stories were all black and white. The
plots were simple - it was good versus evil, there would be no cross overs and
good would always triumph. The superhero's alter ego would either be a dead
ringer for Mr. Bean, a bumbling, inept, clueless friendly idiot, or Sir Percy
Blakeney, the dashing playboy from The Scarlet Pimpernel. Crime would never
pay. And the good, harmless, innocent people would always be saved in the end.
‘Saved in the end’ was the operative phrase that lifted a
nation's spirits. Across generations, they took to the tales like repentant smokers
to a nicotine patch. Soon, with each passing decade, memories of fear and
suffering faded away, and subsequent generations disinherited the scarred
legacy of their ancestors. To them, America was always the land of opportunity,
where everyone owned houses, drove in cars and had weekend barbecue parties in
their backyards. So, who needed superheroes? Besides, who on earth would
believe in men flying around in ridiculous costumes? Superheroes were soon relegated
to story-telling sessions for children - adults had no use for them.
But evolution is not always a good thing. And not fixing
something when it isn't broke isn't such a bad thing either. Unfortunately, our
superheroes, who had successfully warded off ageing, fashion trends, technology
(don't point to the batmobile - it made its first appearance in 1939) and
makeovers over the decades, met their nemesis when the publishers decided to update
the psychographics of the caped crusaders to suit the tastes of modern
audiences. So, from giving mankind hope to live through the era of corruption
and the great depression, the superheroes, until then beacons of hope for the
downtrodden, ended up being reflections of today's complex, dysfunctional generation.
Batman's alter ego became a playboy who would enjoy heady
nights and suffer terrible hangovers the morning after. Spiderman began to
secretly enjoy the dark side to his arachnid powers. Superman had to contend
with a complicated romance, his feelings for another man's wife and worse, a
child born out of wedlock. Iron Man's inner self - Tony Stark - had to battle
alcoholism, Captain America went under the influence of meth, Robin got
insanely addicted to violence and the Human Torch's bisexuality has become an
ongoing topic for online banter.
Perhaps the changing times necessitated new-age personas - not
the kinds that people would look up to, but the kinds that people would
identify with. The result? Mighty men, whose hands trembled without their
regular fix, superheroes who found themselves in confusing relationships, and protectors
and avengers who, when they were not fighting monsters and aliens, were
fighting their own inner demons.
Hindu mythology defines the four major yugas (epochs) as
satya yuga, where there was only good, treta yuga where both good and bad
existed, but were kept away from each other, dwapara yuga where good and bad
had to coexist in the same paradigm and kali yuga, the present age, where the
bad existed inside every good and the good inside every bad. One will never
know if the images of a young Krishna holding the Govardhan hill on his little
finger or of Hanuman uprooting Mount Sanjeevani and flying off with it inspired
the creators of superheroes halfway across the world, but they sure seem to
have taken the concept of kali yuga rather seriously. As a result, the
Jekyll-Hyde syndrome has been turned on its head - Jekyll has become a badass
with a history of substance abuse and when he's not busy imbibing this or
inhaling that, he turns into his other badass version - Hyde. And that brings
back the 1930s all over again. It's once again time for children to go and
hide.
