The only Indian film to have been ever awarded a Palme d’Or—earlier called Grand Prix du Festival International du Film—is Chetan Ananad’s 1946 social drama, Neecha Nagar (1946). Often considered the highest honor in cinema, Neecha Nagar’s victory took Indian cinema to a global stage. Contradictorily, the film was never officially released in the home country and thus stayed hidden in obscurity over all these decades. The film—which was also Anand’s directorial debut—portrayed the practice of untouchability in the country and, thus, became one of the earliest films to throw light on the rampant casteism in Indian society. 

Caste is a time-worn issue that affects every sphere of an individual’s life. However, it has been constantly ignored in cinema. The representation of Dalits has either been prejudiced or riddled with stereotypes, and their stories have been largely absent from mainstream cinema. Seldom have filmmakers got Dalit identity politics right in cinema. Curious to analyze the same, I spent this month—April is celebrated as Dalit History Month all over the world—watching and re-watching Hindi films that touch upon caste atrocities to gauge if Hindi cinema has made progress with regard to Dalit representation and what we can learn about their issues through films if we can learn anything at all. 

 

Erasure of Caste Politics

Nagraj Manjule’s Marathi film Sairat was a commercial success when it was released in 2016 and was lauded for its stark portrayal of caste prejudice in India. The film is about two everyday people, an upper-caste girl and a poor boy from the fisherman’s caste, their love affair, the difficulties that follow, their elopement, the marriage, the birth of their child, and what follows. So when Karan Johar’s Dharma Productions decided to adapt the film as Dhadak with Janhavi Kapoor and Ishaan Khatter in 2018, everyone wondered how the caste issue would be dealt with by the makers in a North Indian setting. With little surprise, the makers subside the caste angle in the film and hop on the bandwagon of mainstream films ignoring uncomfortable questions of identity. For a film that is supposed to showcase caste antagonism, Dhadak ends up erasing the issue of caste inequality from the narrative that its origin is so intently focused on. Dhadak is a prime case of all that is wrong with Hindi cinema and its blatant refusal to venture into caste politics. 

From Karan Johar’s Dhadak via IMDB

Getting the Gaze Right

Article 15(1) of the Constitution of India prohibits discrimination amongst people on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex, or place of birth. The 2019 eponymous film—Article 15—directed by Anubhav Sinha, borrows from the realities of modern India to criticize the age-old issue. Sinha’s crusader is a young Brahmin IPS officer Ayan Ranjan (Ayushmann Khurrana), who is posted—rather reluctantly—in a rural village Lalgaon. Ranjan’s urban upbringing clashes with Lalgaon’s traditional dilemmas and caste disparities.

The concerns get real once the news of the murder and gang rape of three young girls belonging to a lower caste breaks out. Ranjan is insistent on investigating as per due process and gets to the bottom of the case despite threats, while his colleagues want to close the case to protect the upper caste culprits. The film is inspired by the real-life Badaun killings and does a stellar job at drawing attention to the truths we often choose to ignore, as well as the dismal law and order situation in various regions such as Badaun. 

Article 15 was critically acclaimed and one of the highest-grossing films of 2019. The film undoubtedly asks some key questions and reflects the director’s personal exhaustion from the system. Sinha spares none. He talks about WhatsApp’s fake news problem, showcases the complexities of the caste system, and how political parties treat lower caste communities as mere vote banks. While the film portrays the horrors that damage the country by being belligerently upfront about it, Article 15 ends up harboring an upper-caste gaze, thereby defeating the entire purpose. The Brahmin protagonist ends up as a savior for the Dalits. Upper caste characters take the maximum screen space, and Dalit characters—though some like Gaura (Sayani Gupta) and Nishad (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub) are shown idealistically revolutionary—are reduced to their sufferings. 

From Anubhav Sinha’s Article 15 via IMDB

Adapting Realism into Cinema

When contemporary cinema fails to give one answer, it is best to resort to the classics. The next film I watched was Ankur-The Seedling (1974) by Shyam Benegal. The film undoubtedly is a more nuanced and balanced portrayal of the issue. Set in the village of Yellareddiguda, Ankur revolves around the Zamindar’s son Surya (Anant Nag), his house help Lakshmi (Shabani Azmi), a woman of a lower caste, and Lakshmi’s deaf and mute husband Kishtaya (Sadhu Meher). Surya is a classic case of the upper caste’s hypocritical bigotry who believe they are not like the previous generation and caste is a figment to them, yet they flip the moment someone from a lower caste begins to consider them their equal. 

Benegal’s characters are deeply layered from the purview of gender, caste, and class. Benegal traces how our identity shapes our social standing and how caste operates in various spheres of life. When Kishtaya is caught stealing from Surya’s estate, he is paraded through the streets leading to Kishtiya’s disappearance from the village. When Surya finds Lakshmi alone, it takes him nothing to promise that he’ll take care of Lakshmi forever while seeking sexual favors from her. Lakshmi feels seen for her servitude. But everything changes in a jiffy when Surya’s father sends his wife to live with him, and a new cycle of oppression begins. 

Lakshmi’s unborn child—Surya wants him to abort while she disagrees—thus represents a threat to the existing feudal system, a bridge between the socially rich and poor that can disrupt existing structures of oppression.

There are definitely other names: Vikas Bahl’s Super 30 (2019), Ketan Mehta’s Manjhi- The Mountain Man (2015), Prakash Jha’s Aarakshan (2011), and others. But to touch upon caste and delve into it are two separate things, and we need more of the latter, especially with Dalit characters taking center stage. A great example herein is Neeraj Ghaywan’s Masaan (2015), an honest portrayal of the constraints of caste in an urban setting, and Geeli Pucchi. Ghaywan does a great job of showcasing the individual experiences of people coming from lower castes and their struggles without making them preachy or fetishizing their issues. And for that, we would need more representation from other communities in the film industry as writers, producers, and directors.

Article Courtesy of Anjani Chadha

Feature image from Neeraj Ghaywan’s Masaan via IMDB