The movie Article 15 opens with contrasting ambience and colour. A gloomy rainy village and a bright sunny highway. A famous protest song ‘Kahab Toh’ on one side, and Bob Dylan’s ‘Blowin in the Wind’ on the other. Basically, a terribly failed attempt at drawing contrast between upper castes vs lower castes as urban vs rural. Caste does not exist in cities and urban set-ups; let’s go to a remote village to experiment with heroism and capitalise on it. Ayan Ranjan (played by Ayushmann Khurrana) finally enters the ‘wild wild west’ where he and the upper-caste audience witness caste crimes and violence for the first time.
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“What the f*ck is going on here?”, screams the IPS officer, who is proud of being a Stephenian and abroad return but has no idea about what is happening in his own country.
- Are you telling me that Ayan cleared that UPSC examination with no clue about what his caste is, or what the caste system is?
- The IPS officer also asks “Pasi? Matlab?”
- “I will unmess this mess,” he says whilst admitting that we need to find new ways and solutions to “unmess” things but does not give any by the end of the film. The film, as it claims, should be talking about annihilating the caste system and denouncing the root cause of it, the Hindu religion, but it does not.
The Gaze
There is an uncomfortable upper-caste gaze throughout Article 15. Even directors like Nagaraj Manjule have portrayed caste crimes, but one does not see a foreign gaze in his films. It looks real. It does not distance the audience from the screen as if we are watching it as a bystander. Article 15 goes wrong here. When Ayan gets off his car in the village, you see some old men sitting and eating bread. He messages his partner saying, “They are looking at me as if I am British”.
Bollywood regularly indulges in “brown/black facing” characters from marginalised locations, for example, in films like Super 30, Gully Boy, and Udta Punjab. Article 15 too makes characters look “dirty” to show them poor and dark-skinned. These films feed on the stereotype that lower castes are unclean, unhygienic, dark-skinned by default, can only be in tattered clothes, etc.
These films feed on the stereotype that lower castes are unclean, unhygienic, dark-skinned by default, can only be in tattered clothes, etc.
Whenever untouchability is portrayed, the Brahmin protagonist is shown as someone who is willing to share glasses, plates and food with the lower castes. But the people from lower castes themselves refuse saying, “No no sir, we will bring you a new plate”. The director has put the onus of the practice on the lower castes but not the upper castes who force and lynch the lower castes if they fail to follow the rules of Manu/Brahmins.
Intentions
Anubhav Sinha, the director of Article 15, released an open letter addressed to Brahmin outfits and Karni Sena that were protesting against the film after the release of the trailer.
Translating a few lines in the letter: “Trust me, this movie has not disrespected any Brahmin community. In fact, you will be happy to know that, there were a lot of Brahmins involved in the making of this film, both friends and artists. There is no reason to disrespect Brahmin community. Even my wife is a Brahmin, in that way even my son has Brahmin identity.”
So what is Article 15 about if it is not about challenging the Brahmin hegemony and their Brahminical practices? The film talks about eradicating caste based discrimination but not about the caste system as a whole.
So what is the film about if it is not about challenging the Brahmin hegemony and their Brahminical practices? The film talks about eradicating caste based discrimination but not about the caste system as a whole.
Article 15 feels like an apologia for upper-caste caste arrogance and ignorance. Ayan represents the majority of upper castes who have degrees from premiere institutes and possess all the resources and networks to learn about society but they do not. And when questioned about the same, a classic reply is thrown at you, “I am learning, I am growing.” As quoted in an interview with Mint, Sinha, “admits his is a semi-informed perspective on caste acquired by reading and talking to experts.”
Is This Movie Political?
Yes, but it is just another attempt at capitalising the issue with ill-informed content about anti-caste politics. There is a line from an anti-caste activist character named Nishad played by Zeeshan Ayyub, who looks like an impersonation of Bhim Army chief Chandrashekar Azad, that goes, “Kabhi hum Harijan hojate hai aur kabhi Bahujan bas jan nahi ban paate.” Harijan is not an accepted word. Harijan is an identity given by Mohandas Gandhi, whereas Bahujan is a political term embraced by the community. A dignified word.
Body Language
All the lower castes in the movie, including the token police officer Jatav played by Kumud Mishra, are always under-confident and scared. Gaura, played by Sayani Gupta, is introduced as an activist mobilising the crowd singing a beautiful protest song, as a leader/fighter for justice but it lasts for only 2 minutes. Whenever she is in frame with Ayan (also only when she gets most of the screen time) she looks as if she is in fear, her eyes are always looking down, hands held tight, leaning in, head shaking. You might say that is because she is in distress. However, in director Pa Ranjith’s Kaala we have Puyal Charumathi Gaekwad, a Marathi girl played by Anjali Patil who is also an activist like Gaura. She is confident, does not look “dirty” though living in a basti, is fierce and powerful. This tells volumes about how the social location of directors makes a difference.
Mr Jatav
Jatav is a police officer belonging to Chamar community and is played by Kumud Mishra. In a conversation with his Kayasth colleague, Jatav says that SC, ST people don’t want to improve their lives. They live in dirt. How will women be safe in such locality? This is sly usage of a SC character speaking the Brahminical language of merit and blaming the victims for not coming out of poverty but not the system that keeps them poor and oppressed.
There are exactly two jokes in the film where the audience laughs. Those jokes are at the expense of Mr Jatav who does not know English well, the swear word ‘f*ck’ to be precise. Also, it felt very uncomfortable to see the post credits starting with ‘Victim girl-1,’ ‘Victim girl-2,’ ‘Victim girl-3’ whereas these ‘victims’ have names in the movie.
Mission Accomplished
The film ends with a frame where all police officers regardless of their caste sit together and start eating food made by an old woman’s thela, basically the idea of inter-dining. When Ayan asks the woman about her caste, the audience misses it as a honking truck passes by and everyone smiles and still continues eating. YAY! Our saviour has annihilated caste in Lalgaon! Kudos.
In a parallel universe Ayushmann gives a solution to annihilate caste.
That is, “do not talk about caste to your next generation, what is the need?” Yes sir, we can stop talking about caste when your caste networks, generational wealth, social capital, power and hegemony cease to exist and all of you denounce Hinduism. A mere attempt to capitalise on struggles when you yourself are so prejudiced is the irony, but also the reality of any media industry from print to cinema.
Why is this movie being hailed as one of a kind, daring, bold, path breaking? When there have been powerful movies made before this, like Kaala, Masaan, Kabali, Pistulya, Sairat, Fandry made by the directors from the community? Do you, as a Brahmin-upper caste have the guts to look at Kaala (from Kaala) staring into your eyes and saying “Kya re setting ah” or seeing Jabya (from Fandry) throwing a stone at your face? Or Puyal (from Kaala) saying “Eyy shhhhhh shhhh, I won’t get intimidated by your bullying!” Do you?
I am someone raising his head for a fistful of self-respect
In this nation of casteist bigots, blinded by wealth,
I am someone who lives to register life itself as a protest.
I am someone who dies repeatedly to live.
Don't call me a victim,
I am an immortal, I am an immortal, I am an immortal
A mere attempt to capitalise on struggles when you yourself are so prejudiced is the irony, but also the reality of any media industry from print to cinema.
[Kuffir Nalgundwar’s translation of Kalekuri Prasad's Telugu poem 'Pidikedu Aatmagauravam Kosam' (A Fistful of Self-Respect). The original post appeared in The Shared Mirror on Feb 23, 2011. It can be accessed here]
Divya Kandukuri is a freelance journalist whose work lies around the intersections of caste, gender, pop culture and mental health.
(This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)
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