Satyajit Ray. The name is enough. The man needs no introduction. A study of filmmaking, characters, depth, and social commentary, Ray’s work haunts us decades after their release. His movies are essential in film society screenings and almost always invite elaborate discussions. Although Ray never identified himself as a political filmmaker, his 1960 masterpiece Devi is considered his first political work.
The Film Society of Bhubaneswar organized a special screening of the cult classic this month. No matter your theatre-going experience, watching a black-and-white movie with fellow cinema enthusiasts in a different language is an experience. Everyone present at the screening could relate to the religious dogmatism shown in the film because even though many things have changed, a lot remains the same. A young bride is forcibly elevated to the status of a Devi (goddess) because of a dream her father-in-law had–A woman with no voice who had to just go with the flow and let everything happen to her because that’s what women in the 19th century did.
Doyamoyee (Sharmila Tagore) is no goddess. She is an ordinary human being, a wife, and a kaki maa (aunt) to her nephew. She has no interest in being the all-encompassing, all-forgiving goddess. She waits for her husband’s letters and waits for him to take her with him, even when her father-in-law (Chhabi Biswas) is dependent on her for his caretaking and calls her his second mother.
But a dream where he sees Doyamoyee as a supposed incarnation of Goddess Kali changes everything overnight. The father-in-law, the patriarch of the house, is seen falling on the feet of Doyamoyee and asks his elder son to do the same. Doyamoyee wishes to protest but can’t; she never grew up with a voice. As a woman with zero agency, her life is filled with silence and any rebellion on her part will cause severe upheavals in the family.
An innocent, dove-eyed, 17-year-old teenager is adorned with jewels and garlands and made to sit on a raised platform. Everyone begins to worship this girl while the elder sister-in-law looks on, wondering why. She is the only sane person in the house, but as a woman, she too has no agency. The only way she helps Doyamoyee is by writing an urgent letter to her brother-in-law and Doyamoyee’s husband Umaprasad (Soumitro Chatterjee) asking him to come home at once. A silent help, indeed.
Devi is set in the late 19th century, a time of great Hindu orthodoxy and the ongoing movements of the time that were believed to be influenced by Western ideologies. It was released in India in the 1960s and challenged the archaic beliefs of a newly independent country that was yet to embrace new ideals. The movie mentions social reformers like Raja Ram Mohan Roy who abolished the evil Sati Pratha (self-immolation by a widow on her husband’s funeral pyre) and child marriage. In one small scene, Umaprasad and his friend talk about the widow his friend is in love with. But marrying a widow went against the Hindu tenets of the time and he admits his father has threatened him with ‘total disinheritance.’ Umaprasad offers to speak to his father and displays the courage to speak up about these ‘modern ideas.’
Unfortunately, by the time Uma stands up to the blind superstition happening in his own family, it’s too late and the damage is done. Doyamoyee loses her nephew to an illness and is unable to save him. Why? Because she was a human being and her nephew needed a doctor. However, everyone around her believed she could cure him. And when she is not able to, she is branded a rakhusi (witch) who “took the child away.”
Devi is a critique of the religious dogmatism of the time and the disempowerment of women in the hands of patriarchy. As a goddess incarnate, Doyamoyee is not elevated; she has been stripped of her right to be a human being. She yearns to be with her husband; she wants to be in her room, and she wishes more than anything to hug her darling nephew. She faints when the cacophony of brass bells and incense sticks gets to her. But, even that is seen as a samadhi (meditation) by her father-in-law. Instead of helping the frail girl, they bow down to her. In the end, when she is no longer a goddess in their eyes, we see an empty platform and courtyard and a pall of gloom over the entire house. And she is to blame for all of it – her ascension to being a goddess and descension to being branded a witch – even when none of it was her doing.
Thanks to the social conditioning, she refuses to escape with her husband wondering “What if I am indeed the Goddess?” In the end, she loses her sanity and disappears somewhere far away, going for her visarjan (immersion) because as a Devi she can’t always be living with humans. She has to go.
Devi was not well-received at the box office and faced a lot of criticism from orthodox Hindus who felt the movie disparaged Hindu beliefs. In an interview, Satyajit Ray retorted to this criticism saying “This happens in India all the time. We have a fairly backward audience here…”
Unfortunately, religion continues to dominate India even now and orthodoxy seems to be making an entry yet again, questioning women’s choices and their independence. It continues to happen in India all the time, even after 75 years of independence. The country continues to endorse godmen and even vote them to power. Young girls and women are still expected to be either self-sacrificing demi goddesses or feminist witches. The polarization is heightened and sharpened, thanks to movies that are made to please people in power. Any discourse beyond that is an offense.
Just like Doyamoyee’s voice, lost and relegated to the backend. In such times, like Umaprasad’s act of rebellion, organizing a screening of movies like Devi is nothing short of a risk and an act of silent rebellion.
Analysis Courtesy of Neha Jha
Feature Image Credit to Satyajit Ray Productions via The Cinematheque
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