Kurbaan and some food for thought

After watching Kurbaan (Renzil D'silva), it dawned on me that much of what we call 'Hindi mainstream cinema' is also 'Hindu mainstream cinema'. Not that I'm stating something that hasn't been dealt with before, but watching this film made me think about the issue (or rather, the problem) of depicting the Muslim identity in Hindi films.

Being a Muslim character in a Hindi film is never incidental. So if you are playing Muslim, the you also become a medium, through which the director tries to deliver a message about identity, communal tension or secularism. Films like Iqbal (Nagesh Kukunoor, 2005) are rare, in which the protagonist's identity as a Muslim has very little to do with how the story unfolds.

A very broad historical review will tell us that Muslim characters in Hindi films are largely stereotypical. The multi-dimentionality that is otherwise available to a Hindu character is almost never given to a Muslim one.

In the 1960s, we saw Muslim characters as protagonists in films like Chaudhavi Ka Chand (M. Sadiq, 1960) and Mere Mehboob (H. Rawail, 1963). These films belong to the genre of the Muslim Social and are replete with nazaaqat and shayari, but fail to go beyond that. Later in the '70s, we will see Muslim characters in supporting and minor roles in films like Sholay (Ramesh Sippy, 1975) bringing home the idea of a secular nation. In a film like Amar Akbar Anthony (Manmohan Desai, 1977), we do come across a Muslim protagonist, but the "role" he is playing in this film is much too obvious. He is clearly not an individual, but part of a trio symbolic of national and religious harmony.

The Sooraj Barjatya and Karan Johar films of the 90s find a tiny niche for Muslim characters, once again only in supporting roles. For example, Sayeeda in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (Karan Johar, 2001) and Anwar in Hum Saath Saath Hain (Sooraj Barjatya, 1999). This is not more than a token presence, almost as if to say, "See, we Hindus are so benevolent towards our Muslim brothers."

Now, owing to the current international climate, some new stereotypes have emerged in the depiction of Muslim characters. On the one hand, we have the slick, smart and glib-talking hero, whose charm conceals the fact that he is a dangerous (and also perpetually scowling) terrorist on a deadly mission. Cases in point are the films Fanna (Kunal Kohli, 2006), New York (Kabir Khan, 2009) and now Kurbaan. On the other hand, we see a man, struggling with the issues of a Muslim identity in a largely Hindu milieu - a milieu that suspects him of being a traitor, as he desperately tries to prove the cliche that he is 'an Indian first and then a Muslim'. For example films like Aamir (Raj Kumar Gupta, 2008), Rang De Basanti (Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra, 2006) and Chak De India (Shimit Amin, 2007).

Muslim women, of course, never have to deal with such issues, but that is another concept and merits a separate discussion.

So, even as Hindi mainstream cinema explores different levels of characterisation, the Muslim character still remains a type, and his depiction a problem. It is easy to accept a Muslim actor rising to iconoc status playing a Punjabi boy called Rahul in several films. But somehow the dialogue becomes difficult to digest if the same hero were to say, "Rizwaan, naam toh suna hoga?"

On Sujata

Even though I call myself a film-buff, I am sadly not quite well-versed with the black-and-white era of films - both Indian and world cinema. So it was with a view to educate myself that I watched Bimal Roy's Sujata, and ended up thoroughly enjoying the film. The film found a place in my heart not only because of cinematic reasons, but also because of the way it made me feel. Most of all, I liked the way Sujata's (Nutan) character has been etched out in the film. With the central theme of the caste divide, Sujata's character was in grave danger of becoming one-dimentional, matyr-ish and melodramatic. But thankfully, her character is much more than just symbolic.

What is most striking about Sujata's characterisation is the consistent nature imagery that has been used to make the viewer aware of what happens in her heart. The very first shot of the film is of a single blooming flower swaying in a light breeze, and as the credits role on this backdrop, we immediately become aware of the underlying theme of the film - which according to me is not only caste - but the simple story of a simple girl. This shot reveals to us the most prominent character trait - that she is organic and close to nature. Also that she is not an orphan, but is nature's (or God's) own child.

This nature imagery is carried through the entire film - always remaining subtle, and never becoming corny.

-- In many scenes, we find Sujata framed within the outline of foliage of plants and trees.
-- The scene soon after Sujata finds that she is untouchable cuts to the image of a huge leaf being cowed down by the pouring rain.
-- The first time Adhir (Sunil Dutt) meets Sujata, she is carefully tending a garden, which is supposed to be her favourite hobby, telling us that she is natural and also nurturing.
-- A slowly shutting touch-me-not leaf when Adhir meets her for the second time and also disarmingly flirts with her.
-- And a beautiful ballet of dancing flowers and trees when she realises that she loves Adhir.
-- The scene where Sujata rejects Adhir she is first shown watering a plant, but later, as she talks to him, she moves to a tree devoid of all its leaves.

It is this very trait that even Adhir recognises in Sujata as he tells her on Rama's birthday that the "stars know when you were born".

With all this nature imagery, I half expected to see two flowers inching nearer to each other in a close-up shot, depicting the milan of the two premees. Mercifully this never happens in the film, which is strange for a film set in a time when the union between a man and woman could only be described euphemistically!Instead, we have a mature scene (the ghat scene), where Sujata spontaeneously hugs Adhir and tells him that she is his.

The most interesting part of the film - had nothing to do with the imagery - was the song 'Jalte hain jiske liye'. This was somehow an unexpected way of picturising the song. This film comes at a time when technology did not dominate or direct our communications to any degree, but Adhir decides to sing to Sujata on the phone. I found the song picturisation very novel and pleasantly surprising.

So my indoctrination into the black-and-white era was extremely fulfilling, and I also know that I'm only looking at the tip of the iceberg. So here begins the exploration....