‘Padmaavat’: ‘Her’ Story Was Sacrificed on the Altar of ‘His’tory

Padmaavat fails to subvert and romanticises the horrendous tragedy of self-immolation.

Just like Baahubali 2 led throngs to theatres to primarily sate their curiosity about ‘Katappa ne Baahubali ko kyun maara’, most of those making a beeline for Padmaavat are the ones who are curious about all the scenes that the delusional fringe groups imagined. The controversies surrounding the period drama have largely held us in their thrall and the nation wants to know. Here it is - the moment of truth. The cat’s out of the bag.

At the risk of spoiler alerts and of yet sounding redundant, there are no intimate scenes between Rani Padmavati and Alauddin Khilji or any scene between the two, for that matter. The honour clowns finally got the memo and have come around. So how progressive is the film that has been shouldering the mantle of laying bare the primitive mindsets of goons masquerading as a legit organisation?

• Rajput gallantry - Check.
  As far as the community is concerned, if one were to down a shot for each time that Rajput pride was invoked on screen with references to kangans, swords and tenacious headless bodies, one would be pretty inebriated by the end.
• Bhansali’s signature opulence - Check.
  Magnificently mounted, Padmaavat draws you in with the addictive rhythms of its exquisite frames and a soaring background score. It mesmerises like a mythology picture book, expecting us to be swept away in its 3D glamour and ignoring the regressive spine of the story. This reminds me of what the titular character of the series The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel says of women in the 50s and newspaper ads - patriarchy is trying to keep women down with shoe advertisements to distract them from the news.

Of course, grand spectacles and Bhansali are synonymous but the phenomenon of film fatigue exists. After being subjected to preposterous headlines across the past few months, the grandeur of Padmaavat replete with the ‘Ghoomar’ track can be an overkill.

Deepika’s midriff draped with VFX may have got more eyeballs than her bare midriff could have garnered. So much for the modifications. Coming to the big question, what did the change of title do for the film? It yanked the narrative agency from the woman at the centre of the plot - Padmavati with her tragic fate (self-immolation by Jauhar) that has been hailed as a precedent in the annals of Rajput glory to Padmaavat - championing the medieval idea of honour.

A nimble strategist, played by the ethereal Deepika Padukone, Padmavati is the woman in the film saving the men blinded by their desires, ‘usool’ and ‘shaan’, from the bad decisions they make. She breaches the dominant male sphere of the time with her deft warrior skills and her political acumen. But we only get a glimpse of these attributes and before we know it, she is reduced to a Rajputi ‘kangan’ (bangle). A wasted opportunity for Mr. Bhansali who could have given free reign to Padmavati to recount this fictional saga from her exceptional point of view. 

Cautionary tales are history’s best gifts to mankind but Bhansali guns for deification instead. Rani Padmavati hurling herself in a pyre with her armada (including a pregnant woman) is depicted like a joyous woman riding into the sunset. What can only be imagined as a ghastly tragedy is portrayed with cinematic flourish; think scarlet ‘dupattas’ gliding in the wind, romanticism rife in the air. This tale that the Rajput men identify with and scramble to uphold reeks of mansplaining empowerment.

While Malik Muhammad Jayasi’s poem evokes the pathos of vanity, Bhansali’s Padmaavat treats the film like a simplistic parable with binaries like the good Rajput and the evil Muslim. Again, a missed chance to explore how Padmavati suffered at hands of both - a husband who equates stupidity with valour and a vile Khilji grappling with his narcissism.

Enough has been said about the savage representation of Khilji whose world is painted in a dark palette in stark contrast to the vibrant Mewari, upbeat universe. Though Ranveer oscillates between brilliant and caricaturish, he appeals with his ability to make depravity tangible.

The question remains. If an archaic tale is resurrected, shouldn’t it subvert? But in a country where honour is still tethered to a woman’s body, there will always be a price to pay for breaking new ground.

(We Indians have much to talk about these days. But what would you tell India if you had the chance? Pick up the phone and write or record your Letter To India. Don’t be silent, tell her how you feel. Mail us your letter at [e-mail]. We’ll make sure India gets your message.)