KozhiPunk makes topical political video out of 1972 poem

It satirises democracy with the story of how a rooster is shared

A video titled ‘Kozhipunk’ has been haunting the Malayalam Internet space for weeks now. Starring Sreenath Bhasi, one of the bright young talents in Malayalam cinema today, and DJ Shekhar Menon, it is a psychedelic cinematic take on a poem nearly half a century old, about the pretense of altruism.

Poetry often transcends the time it was written in and rises above the poet who gave birth to it. Like a seed that grows into a giant tree to leave the gardener dumbstruck, K Sachidanandan’s poem ‘Kozhipanku’ is transformed into a visual collage by Muhsin Parari and Abhilash S Kumar.

The poem, presumably narrated by a privileged man, talks about his willingness to share his rooster with others. He seems to have no issue with it, but begins naming the parts of the bird that he would like to keep for himself. The reader soon realises that part by part, he is naming the whole rooster. In one piercing line, he says, “You can keep the bird’s breasts”.

Written in early 1972 as lighthearted satire, the poem has been resurrected to characterise a failed democracy.

The music trends in Kerala have undergone radical changes in recent years. It has not been long since the Malayalam rapper Vedan took the Internet by storm with his ‘Voice of the Voiceless’, a rap video that vented out the anger of historically marginalised communities, and Anvar Ali and John P Varkey made ‘Chaavunadappaattu’, which centres on the migrant exodus during the post-Covid lockdown, and shook the audience with its powerful lyrics and haunting visuals.

These artistes have signalled a move away from the glamorous portrayals of India, to one that highlights the stories of the downtrodden.

Set in a dark wooded area, ‘KozhiPunk’ opens with Sreenath Bhasi pointing at his watch, a possible hint that irrespective of the time we live in, it is difficult to run away from exploitation.

In other words, the poem holds water regardless of whether it is the 1970s, when India was under political Emergency, or in 2020, when our citizens are ripped of their rights and subjected to discrimination — of gender, caste, religion, class, you name it.

The song, which begins on a simple note grows sinister over the course of the video, the beats resonating with the rhythm of a pounding heart.

The video is scattered with neon sketches of instances when our democracy eroded. We see an Adivasi man who was practically hunted to death; the man who picked up a gun against peaceful CAA protesters; a haunting image of Gauri Lankesh.

It is political. It is religious. It is psychedelic. At the same time, it is deeply personal.

In the end, you can take the ‘kozhi’ if you want but must return its spirit.