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When I think of Hindi movies, I remember my incessant visits to the video parlour as an eight-year-old, to surreptitiously catch new releases for Re 1. I knew the dialogues by heart and still clearly remember not just the plots but also the names of the characters essayed by the stars of the 80s like Amitabh Bachchan, Rajesh Khanna and Jeetendra.
The quintessential surnames of the protagonists would be:
Bollywood’s progression from Black & White to Eastmancolor and subsequently from Cinemascope to Ultra High Definition did not alter its social essence and tilt towards depiction of Savarnas.
So when two of the most glorified Savarna social groups — Kshatriyas and Brahmins, are crying foul over their ‘incorrect portrayal’ on the big screen, it warrants a review of how Hindi cinema has portrayed various social groups over the years.
On November 17, a Rajput youth offered a bounty of Rs 5 cr for beheading Deepika Padukone, the lead actor of the film Padmavati. The opposition to the film escalated to threatening Padukone by invoking a Kshatriya Lakshman who, “when required did not hesitate to cut the nose of an unarmed woman like Shurpanakha”.
A critical reexamination of Bollywood’s trajectory would prove that Bollywood can be called anything but anti-Savarna. More often than not, our cinema has glorified Savarna characters, traditions and stories.
It may be due to two reasons. Firstly, the Hindi film industry mostly consists of Savarna directors and producers. So, it was not unusual for them to use upper caste names for characters. Secondly, they did not want to break away from the tried and tested formula.
Even when the formula failed, Bollywood refrained from reflecting the realities of social status in reel life. Currently, we see a slew of Hindi films with Brahmin and Kshatriya protagonists on big screen and small screen. There was, in fact, a movie in 1993 about two warring royal Kshatriya Rajput families in Rajasthan, whose title itself was Kshatriya.
Let’s blame the caste names on the lack of Bollywood’s creativity but what about alternative cinema? Over the years, were the non-commercial movies able to bust these stereotypes of Savarna characters?
As Hindi Cinema traversed across generations and spread all over the world, one would have expected diversification of characters. Karan Johar, who is single-handedly responsible for taking Hindi cinema abroad to the NRI world, too followed the same formula, much to the delight of the largely Savarna NRI population. So ‘Rahul’ was Khanna and ‘Anjali’ was Sharma in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Unless the movie script relied on it, (as is the case with My Name Is Khan), the default characterisation remained Savarna.
Salman Khan goes a step ahead. In Dabangg 1 and 2, the cop is a Brahmin with the surname Pandey. What’s more, it is lyrically mentioned in a song too. In Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Salman’s surname is Chaturvedi. He proudly calls himself a Brahmin to proclaim being a vegetarian. In essence, Bollywood has been characterising the heroes as upper caste, notwithstanding the story.
In Rajkummar Rao’s latest release Shaadi Mein Zaroor Aana, the protagonist could have been anybody but he is a ‘Mishra’. Thus, the Brahmin portrayal is no longer subtle but it carries a deafening ring.
Did Bollywood completely shun Dalit and OBC characters? Every once in a decade or two, Bollywood portrayed Dalits in the movies — Acchut Kanya (1936) , Sujata (1960), Sautan (1983) , Lagaan (2001) , Eklavya (2007), Aarakshan (2011) Masaan (2015). The fact that the list will not even extend beyond one dozen since the inception of Bollywood, speaks volumes about their poor representation.
More often, these Dalit male or female characters seem devoid of ambition and miserable rather than assertive. Take for instance, Nutan in Sujata or Padmini Kolhapure in Souten, who only evoked pity. Kachra of Lagaan on the other hand, had no clue what he possessed, possibly the most helpless Dalit character in the movie.
Many critics concluded after watching Rajkummar Rao’s latest critically acclaimed movie Newton, that the protagonist was a Dalit. The movie does not make it explicitly clear and leaves it to the imagination of the audience. Unlike the sacred thread in Jolly LLB 2 and Bajirao, the protagonist in Newton did not reveal his caste. He did not proudly chant Jai Bhim to prove it. One has to read between the lines to comprehend these nuances.
Assertive Dalits making passionate arguments like Saif Ali Khan in Prakash Jha’s Aarakshan making a case for reservations or Sanjay Dutt in Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s Eklavya, addressing anti SC/ST atrocities unleashed by royal families are rare cinematic moments.
She was referring to the innate anti-quota bias in the society that should have been quelled beautifully as a poor Dalit gets a railway job. She concludes, “The lack of Dalit cinematic storytelling is, of course, so much worse than (Savarna) female storytelling, thanks to structural casteism. We have no Dalit actors, directors or cinematographers in Bollywood. The OBCs like Yadav are so horribly portrayed, you can almost always be certain of a Yadav character being an illiterate goon, a corrupt Neta or a police officer. Same goes with the depiction of Muslims.”
When the OBC and Dalit population is more than four times of Savarnas, one fails to understand why both class and mass films do not want to make an effort to represent OBCs and Dalits, both in terms of lead roles and their character names. It was easy for Bollywood to make the movie Mahasati Savitri (1973) on a fictional character who brings her husband back from the dead but not a film on real-life Savitribai Phule who pioneered women’s education in India and opened the first girls’ school amidst staunch opposition. Wouldn’t the story be far more powerful than a well-made Dangal?
If an Oscar nomination list is not diverse, the Academy Award committee is called out for racism. Here in Bollywood, we are still talking about names of characters. Surely, we are decades behind Hollywood.
As Bhansali’s overt fascination with Savarna figures (Ram-Leela, Bajirao Mastani and Padmavati) continues, the Savaranas should be indeed thankful to Bollywood for re-emphasising the regressive caste-based social status and elevating their stature.
Movies impact our thinking and actions in more ways than one. It’s precisely why statutory warnings are displayed each time a character smokes on screen.
The Marathi film Sairat (2016) led fans to create a network to support inter-caste couples who found themselves grappling with a society that shuns them completely. On the other hand, the tragic end in Ek Duje Ke Liye (1981) led many couples to attempt suicide.
The Savarna names that I used to hear on my 18” Videocon TV are now loudly heard with the Dolby Digital surround sound 4K UHD and that too with vivid imagery. This could make a deep impact on society. If Savarnas would have seen dozens of movies and serials showing smart Dalit characters who could also ride horses, they would have plausibly thought ten times before routinely thrashing Dalits riding horses in villages in the Ghurchari ceremony. Until then, most will believe that Dalits are not capable of riding horses.
As Kuffir Nalgundwar, a ‘Bahujan’ activist succinctly quipped on Twitter, “In the End they will give Padukone a National award and the Karni Sena chief a Ministership”.
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)
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