GUNGA DIN was one of my favorite movies as a child. The cinematic version of Rudyard Kipling’s poem about an untouchable bisthi or water carrier had elephants, fakirs, religious fanatics, comedy, thrills, and the horror of the Thuggees, who killed the innocent for their multi-armed goddess, Cali. “Swear by our mother Kali to be thrice faithful to her and to me and to our order and to all of us. Rise, our new-made brothers. Rise and kill. Kill, lest you be killed yourselves. Kill for the love of killing. Kill for the love of Kali! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

I always found this murderous request chilling, but mankind hasn’t changed a lick since the release of 1939 GUNGA DIN.

The Taliban murdered over a hundred schoolchildren in Pakistan, a Louisiana mother killed her babies, Israel’s IDF slaughtered hundreds of Gazans during the summer, a madman shot two cops in NY, the cops killed more, and it keeps on going on and on and on without cessation.

The horror.

As Joseph Conrad wrote in THE HEART OF DARKNESS.

“The horror.”

Marlon Brando rumbled the words in APOCALYPSE NOW.

All I want is a little peace.

Is that too much to ask from the world.

One day.

And here’s the end of GUNGA DIN.

The water boy has been shot and death has seized his soul.

A sergeant speaks over his body.

So I’ll meet ‘im later on
At the place where ‘e is gone —
Where it’s always double drill and no canteen;
‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,
An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,
By the livin’ Gawd that made you,
You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din

To watch a sequence from GUNGA DIN, please go to the following URL