The interest in matters Indian is not limited to a fascination for a few gurus teaching Brahman to the Occidentals. Neither is it limited to the craze shown by some young people for a music and dances in tune with their inner search.
The destructive power contained in Indian thought comes from the revelation to millions of Westerners that action is futile. To the people of my generation, action was God. The most popular form of action was work. Modern society is based on work. We must move, buy, sell, produce. Meditation is still largely unknown among adults. Yet I personally know many young people who meditate regularly. This represents a great danger for the balance of our commercial world.
The characters of The River believe in work. They believe in the success of Victorian virtues. Rumer Godden’s book was not concerned with living conditions in India. What she and I tackled in our script was the story of an English family, the symbol of what should be described by future historians (if historians are there to remain in centuries to come) as the end of an era.
The spectators of The River may guess that the fishermen in their boats on the river, the coolies bustling in the factories, the throngs in the bazaars, and those belonging to all classes who slumber on the steps of the temples, are unconsciously at the origin of the crumbling of the Western technological world. They will not rebel, they will not use weapons, they will accept everything. Quietly, without their knowing, the conviction of the futility of action is taking over the world. What does it matter if planes meet their schedules or trains get there on time? Indeed those details are but infinitesimal avatars of Brahma’s great dream.
After living in India while making The River, I have become more peaceful. I would no longer worry if all of a sudden I had to turn into a bum.