I was raised believing everything and everyone had essential natural value. Even the villains had a place. Villains existed so that we could see good prevail. We could hopefully see a bully get beat up by a bigger, older kid. When I was a kid, comic books taught me about a world that was pretty black and white. Heroes protected the general good. Villains, be they corrupted by power or external forces, sought to expose the worst in society. They needed to be stopped, which is why the good guys, no matter the odds, always seemed to win. What a naïve way of thinking.
The older I got, things changed. Good men failed in real life. I read stories of greed and corruption going unnoticed because the good guys perpetrated it. I saw bad guys and absolute villains get away with blatant crimes. The internet opened me up to a world of confusion, where things weren’t going the way they should be going. I understood motivation and circumstance, but I wanted something simpler. I wanted an escape and a regression. I wanted The Villains to lose.
I don’t see too many teenagers at comic book movies or Comic Fests . I certainly see a ton of 25-35 year old men at comic book fests We walk a line that teenagers don’t. We know about the superhero complex. We came of age before computers slammed us with every angle on every story… minute-by-minute in real time. We had to pick and choose our content rather than have it force-fed to us. We picked the heroes we love because we saw ourselves in them. Doga is just a civilian in a suit with a vendetta, forced to confront with the bad society. Tiranga is a soldier who takes order, respects authority, and stands up for good. There is humanity in each superhero story, even the most fantastic. We want to see ourselves in the panels, in the comics. We want them to fight battles that are too outrageous to totally understand — battles that make our daily struggles feel like nothing at all.
I’m drawn to superheroes, on page and on screen, not because I’m trying to out-nerd someone else, but because I love when the good guys win. For as humanized as actors and directors have become via the internet, I want to believe in gigantic characters they portray and the huge stories they bring to life. Hero stories, for as complex as they get, are still about all of us. They’re about adversity, friendship, broken homes and misplaced destinies. They make our lives more manageable.
If Suraj becomes Doga to deal with the death of his family and avenge his city, suddenly my problems seem even less significant. Sometimes we need superheroes to remind us that we can’t give up on the world, on other people, or on ourselves.