Hypocrisies and oaths collide for Amrit (Omid Abtahi) in Ocean of Pearls.
Good people wear turbans too
By Don Simpson
The words "Ocean of Pearls" come from Sikh scripture. The pearls represent the wisdom, knowledge, lessons and love needed to find peace in ourselves and to ultimately find God in ourselves. Originating in 16th-century India and currently numbering approximately 25 million worldwide, Sikhism constitutes a larger part of the world’s population than Judaism. The principal belief of Sikhism is faith in the one universal non-anthropomorphic God.
The words "Ocean of Pearls" come from Sikh scripture. The pearls represent the wisdom, knowledge, lessons and love needed to find peace in ourselves and to ultimately find God in ourselves. Originating in 16th-century India and currently numbering approximately 25 million worldwide, Sikhism constitutes a larger part of the world’s population than Judaism. The principal belief of Sikhism is faith in the one universal non-anthropomorphic God.
One such Sikh, albeit fictional, is Amrit (Omid Abtahi), an aspiring transplant surgeon in Toronto whose groundbreaking research on prolonging the amount of time donor organs remain usable attracts the attention of a fledgling state-of-the-art transplant center in Detroit. When they offer him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become Chief of Transplant Surgery – an offer he cannot refuse – Amrit accepts it without consulting his girlfriend, Smita (Navi Rawat). The decision aggravates Smita because he is prioritizing his career over their relationship.
So, it is off to Detroit for Amrit (Smita opts to remain in Toronto) where he quickly learns he has stiff competition for the position of Chief Surgeon. Despite Amrit’s immense talent and groundbreaking research, he is Sikh – his hair has never been cut and he wears a turban – and this is post-9/11 America where men in turbans are greeted with suspicion and animosity. As Amrit explains during a voiceover, "To my father, the turban is an article of faith. To me, it means I better make damned sure I'm not late for my flight."
So, it is off to Detroit for Amrit (Smita opts to remain in Toronto) where he quickly learns he has stiff competition for the position of Chief Surgeon. Despite Amrit’s immense talent and groundbreaking research, he is Sikh – his hair has never been cut and he wears a turban – and this is post-9/11 America where men in turbans are greeted with suspicion and animosity. As Amrit explains during a voiceover, "To my father, the turban is an article of faith. To me, it means I better make damned sure I'm not late for my flight."
Amrit’s competition, Ryan Bristol (Todd Babcock), is a Caucasian Christian man; in other words, a more attractive face for a fledgling hospital that needs to look attractive (non-threatening) to potential investors.
Refusing to give up on the battle for the Chief Surgeon position, Amrit is repeatedly forced to compromise his Sikh ideals and beliefs. Amrit quickly finds himself drifting away from the selfless morals of Sikhism, all in the very selfish name of capitalistic success. His family ties are cracking and his devotion to Smita wavers as Amrit commences his downward spiral into the greed-riddled health care system of the United States.
Eventually, Amrit is faced with a life or death situation of one of his patients: Mary (Brenda Strong). Mary’s insurance benefits have been maxed out, due to a previous accident, and the hospital declines her eligibility for a liver transplant. If Amrit stays true to the Seva (service) tradition of the Sikh faith – let alone the Hippocratic Oath – and provides Mary with the liver transplant that she needs to survive, he will lose his job. However, if he abides by the rules set by the hospital administrators and denies Mary the surgery that she desperately needs, that would be a definitive sign that he has disowned his Sikh upbringing. (This would not be a dilemma back in Canada where they have national health care.)
First-time director Sarab Neelam is speaking from experience. Neelam, a Sikh, relocated with his family from India to Toronto when he was 10. He studied medicine in Toronto, then practiced as a physician across the border in the United States. Like his protagonist, Neelam may have questioned whether his faith (especially wearing a turban) is more important than his career and, heck, his survival.
The narrative, though occasionally resembling a trite formulaic soap opera (that is, with Sikh characters and situations relevant specifically to Sikhs), is permeated by deep philosophical quandaries that transcend religion and politics. Sure, the dialogue may feel a bit stilted (again, like a soap opera) but the characters and story are powerful enough to prevail. The narrative’s biggest stumble is with Amrit’s flirtatious affair with a coworker; it is shamelessly predictable and serves very little purpose in the grand scheme of things.
Refusing to give up on the battle for the Chief Surgeon position, Amrit is repeatedly forced to compromise his Sikh ideals and beliefs. Amrit quickly finds himself drifting away from the selfless morals of Sikhism, all in the very selfish name of capitalistic success. His family ties are cracking and his devotion to Smita wavers as Amrit commences his downward spiral into the greed-riddled health care system of the United States.
Eventually, Amrit is faced with a life or death situation of one of his patients: Mary (Brenda Strong). Mary’s insurance benefits have been maxed out, due to a previous accident, and the hospital declines her eligibility for a liver transplant. If Amrit stays true to the Seva (service) tradition of the Sikh faith – let alone the Hippocratic Oath – and provides Mary with the liver transplant that she needs to survive, he will lose his job. However, if he abides by the rules set by the hospital administrators and denies Mary the surgery that she desperately needs, that would be a definitive sign that he has disowned his Sikh upbringing. (This would not be a dilemma back in Canada where they have national health care.)
First-time director Sarab Neelam is speaking from experience. Neelam, a Sikh, relocated with his family from India to Toronto when he was 10. He studied medicine in Toronto, then practiced as a physician across the border in the United States. Like his protagonist, Neelam may have questioned whether his faith (especially wearing a turban) is more important than his career and, heck, his survival.
The narrative, though occasionally resembling a trite formulaic soap opera (that is, with Sikh characters and situations relevant specifically to Sikhs), is permeated by deep philosophical quandaries that transcend religion and politics. Sure, the dialogue may feel a bit stilted (again, like a soap opera) but the characters and story are powerful enough to prevail. The narrative’s biggest stumble is with Amrit’s flirtatious affair with a coworker; it is shamelessly predictable and serves very little purpose in the grand scheme of things.
Moreover, in addition to the film's thoughtful meditations on religion and faith, the Ocean of Pearls provides another intelligent and effective argument for overhauling the current health care system in the United States.
