RainbowMan: Cinema As Therapy When Dil Hai In Mushkil

We undermine the use of cinema as therapy, argues Harish Iyer.

Lately, I have been suffering from certain mental health challenges. I regularly listen to the grievances of child sexual abuse survivors and the people struggling with their gender identity and /or sexuality. This since I am a survivor myself and a SGM (sexual and gender minority) rights activist. I was absorbing so much hate from all around like a sponge, without any break, that I lost my balance and slipped into the fangs of what may be termed as a mild form of depression.

I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything, and was feeling depressed for no good reason. I decided to help myself. I availed of Access Bars, Reiki and Traditional Talk Counselling at Humsafar Trust to help myself get back on my feet. All of these helped me greatly, but I knew that the one thing that would help me like none other was cinema.

On Friday, I watched Ae Dil Hai Mushkil and I am prepped with new energy, zeal and zest for life. I have an overdose of buoyant hormones flowing and can look at life with content.

We undermine the use of cinema as a therapy. As a child, who was sexually abused and a college student who was bullied for being effeminate, I built myself a parallel world in cinema where I could drown in the characters who I saw on screen.

When I was (consciously or subconsciously) very angry, I would dress up in white and dance like a serpent to ‘Main Teri Dushman...’ a la Sridevi in Nagina.

When I was too scared, I would step out and watch Padmini Kolhapure in Prem Rog and try to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She was a young widow who was ostracised because of cultural misogynistic practices. I completely blame Raj Kapoor, the director, Padmini and Rishi for making me hope against hope for someone to bail me out of the situation I was in.

When I thought my life was void of joy in 1989, when I was little about ten, I watched Chaalbaaz and empathised with the quiet and petrified Anju and also developed my own alter ego in Manju. At twelve, when I was continually being raped, this video of Sridevi’s reaction to her confession of truth in Lamhe exemplified what I felt at the time.

I must have danced a thousand times to this back then.

Hemant Birje being treated like an animal in the film Tarzan, made me realise how animals are mistreated.

This rendered me empathetic toward every living being – I began speaking to plants, to birds, to cats and insects. I began to acknowledge nature and formed a close bond with them. Later, while coming of age and embracing my sexuality, I revisited Tarzan and, that time, Hemant Birje made me acknowledge my fondness for the male body.

While speaking about child sexual abuse, I remember this film by Imtiaz Ali, Highway, which had brilliantly externalised the self-talk that survivors have. It couldn’t have been portrayed more perfectly. I am sure, even many psychologists would agree to this narration by Child Sexual Abuse survivor, Veera (Alia Bhatt).

Chaalbaaz was one film that kept returning to me time and again. When classmates were name-calling me in college, I watched Chaalbaaz for the zillionth time and related to the actress’s casual attitude to Rajinikant calling her a whore and her riposte.

And, who can forget Geet from Jab We Met? I remember her childlike nature. I related to her screaming and speaking in no proper sequence. Those mirrored the little voice which spoke to me when I was alone. Though I had recovered from abuse to the world, no one really truly recovers. Survivors of prolonged childhood sexual abuse have recurrent flashes of the abuse throughout their lives. I learnt the value of giving up from this one scene where Aditya Kashyap leaves his love when he finds her very happy. This is one of the most iconic scenes in Bollywood.

Who can also forget Rani from Queen?

My perception of sex workers from their horrible image that the society portrays to eventually standing up for their cause is attributed to that one scene from Mahanadi where sex workers fund the release of a girl who is the daughter of Kamal Haasan.

Now, returning to Aee Dil Hai Mushkil, I add it to my list of highly therapeutic films. It is a film that embodies the spirit of true friendship.

Here comes a small review with many spoilers.

This is not a film that belongs to the dialogue writer as much as it does to the performers who are all par excellence. Most of the characters in the film are Muslims and sexually charged-up which makes it really an underlying statement at a time when we are discussing Triple Talaaq, Burqa and Burkini. It has a woman making the first move, rejecting her “pick” for he is a bad kisser.

Let me give you a peek of the dialogues in the film. In fact, it is Alizeh (Anushka) who says “Tumhara surya is tarah namaskaar karta hai”. When Ayaan (Ranbir) speaks about his mother deserting him in childhood, Anushka says, “Mother toh India hoti hai, tumhaari Milkha nikli, bhaag gayi”. Alizeh doesn’t love Ayaan as a life partner but as a friend, so she says, “Pyaar mein junoon hai, dosti mein sukoon hai” and “Maine tumhari mohabbat dekh li, tum bhi meri dosti aazmaakar dekh lo...” Ayaan says, “Ek tarfa pyaar taqat hi aur hoti hai, auron ki tarah yeh do logon mein nahi batthi, sirf mera haq hai ispar.” When Ayaan meets Saba (Aishwarya) there is a dialogue “Dard dard ko doondh hi leta hai,” which is true – we all look for the same pain in the people around us. When Saba realises Ayaan is stuck to his old flame, she rejects him by saying, “Main kissi ki zaroorat nahi, khwaish banna chahti hoon.” When Ayaan discovers that Alizeh has cancer he tells her, “Tu mar gayi toh main tumhein maar doonga,” to which she responds, “Tu aa gaya naa, ab main marna bhi nahi chahti.”

My verdict: Give your aching heart some pleasure, visit the cinema hall and watch Ae Dil Hai Mushkil. Watch it for Anushka, for Ranbir and also for the little bit of Ash and Fawad that you see. They excel and how.

You will read a lot of rotten tomatoes handed over to the film. Don’t watch the movie as a cinema critic or a fashionable KJo basher, watch it because you just want to get into the flight of a fantasy.

Watch it because it is therapeutic, it helps you see relationships in a new light and it helps you believe that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

(Harish Iyer is an equal rights activist working for the rights of the LGBT community, women, children and animals. ‘Rainbow Man’ is Harish’s regular blog for The Quint)