Amol Palekar’s 1990 musical, Thodasa Roomani Ho Jayen, is one of the most underrated Hindi films. The story of “seedhi-saadi, maamooli ladki (a simple, ordinary girl)” Binni, with a run-of-the-mill name to boot, is one in which several women might find their own reflection. Unable to live up to the impossible standards of beauty, nor being able to score a good suitor, the baggy shirt and trouser-clad “mardaani” (tomboy) Binni can’t fathom “aurat kaise bante hain” (how to be ladylike) and lacks self-confidence, despite the love and support of an empathetic father and the freedom to take her own decisions. Her journey into being able to believe in herself makes for an evergreen feel-good film whose leitmotif is encapsulated in the title song—“Jeena hai mushkil, ummeed ke bina, thode se sapne sajayein (it’s impossible to live without hope, lets embellish it with a few dreams).”
Kiran Rao’s recently released sophomore film, Laapataa Ladies, ends on a note that underscores, in much the same way, the importance for women to have hopes and expectations of and for themselves—“Sapna dekhne ki maafi nahin maangte (one must never be apologetic about nursing dreams for oneself).”
Further back in 1966, Waheeda Rehman’s Rosie in Vijay Anand’s Guide nailed it on breaking free from her claustrophobic marriage with Marco (Kishore Sahu) when she danced in abandon to “Koi na roko dil ki udaan ko (don’t curb the flight of a soaring heart).”
Set decades apart, these films are about Average Janes being able to find themselves and their purpose in life. One is a classic that was way ahead of its time for its frank portrayal of marital estrangement and infidelity. Second, a middle-of-the-road, small film that might seem technically frayed today, but its thematic core hasn’t aged at all. The latest, while staying authentic to its rural milieu, has been forging a deep, universal connect with women (and men as well) across the spectrum, if the claps and cheers witnessed in the plush multiplexes are anything to go by. Reminiscent of how Rani (Kangana Ranaut) brought the house down back in 2013, dancing to “Hungama ho gaya” in Vikas Bahl’s Queen. After a long time, we have a Hindi film with a repeat value, even though that replay might happen with its arrival later on the OTT platform.
With the male skew peaking at the box office last year and women getting edged out of big screens to the confines of streaming platforms, these women next door, lost or otherwise, who have come to populate streaming platforms and cinema halls of late, have brought a much-needed breath of fresh air to viewership. They may be earning a pittance in comparison to the thousands of crores amassed by the bellicose cinema of the day but are providing a healthy and wholesome alternative, a quiet and modest antidote that is all about setting up “shakti ka santulan (balance of power)”. Slow and steady turtles than the sprinting hares, they are more long-distance runners than shooting stars.
Last year we had Hansal Mehta’s Netflix series Scoop, about crime journalist Jagruti Pathak’s (Karishma Tanna) quest to prove her innocence on being accused of complicity in the murder of senior journo Jaideb Sen (Prosenjit Chatterjee).
Reema Kagti and Ruchika Oberoi’s Dahaad on Prime Video, about a bunch of cops chasing a serial killer in a caste-ridden, patriarchal and misogynistic Mandwa in Rajasthan, had sub-inspector Anjali Bhaati (Sonakshi Sinha) at its core. She is defying familial and societal expectations of marriage, gender prejudice at work, and the larger caste-based discrimination on top of all else.
Yashowardhan Mishra’s Netflix series Kathal was about the case of two missing jackfruits that, in turn, became a farcical exploration of the ludicrous law enforcement and caste politics in North India captured from the view of inspector Mahima Basoor played by Sanya Malhotra.
In an interview to TNIE, the creator-writer of Scoop, Mrunmayee Lagoo Waikul, had said that what excited her was that it was about a “regular girl” having the capacity to deliver on the job and do something with her life. “She, her world, her family, the challenges are all relatable,” she said. While showing the aspirations of a middle-class girl in the big city, she dealt with the issue of sexism in the workplace and ethics of media, even while Jagruti’s prison diary spotlighted the plight of undertrials.
Through the years women-centric films have taken a different direction from the traditional definition, understanding and expectations of them. The classic that Mehboob Khan’s Mother India is, over a period it also created its own stereotype in defining strong on-screen women. We came to identify women-centric films as epic narratives about suffering, sacrificing women for whom marriage, kids, family, community and society trumped over self. Gradually it made way for another kind of cinema such as Mirch Masala, Mrityudand, Arth and Sparsh, with feisty women taking on patriarchy and rebelling against institutions, including marriage. Another kind of cinema, like Khoon Bhari Maang, focused on wronged women morphing into avenging angels reducing men to pulp, quite literally.
However, the present lot of films is not about heroic, larger-than-life superwomen. They inspire and empower by being who they truly are—everywomen, all rooted and real. They hark back to the likes of Deepa (Vidya Sinha) getting confused about her feelings for two men in Basu Chatterji’s Rajnigandha (1974). Or the free-spirited architecture student Radha (Arundhati Roy) in Pradeep Krishen’s In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones (1989).
Ditzy chatterbox Geet (Kareena Kapoor) in Jab We Met (2007) declaring, “Main apni favourite hoon (I am my own favourite).” Sridevi acing it as the mother next door, and wife Shashi Godbole enrolling to learn English when mocked by her husband and kids in Gauri Shinde’s English Vinglish (2012). Or Deepika Padukone in the titular role of Piku who carries on with her work and love life while taking care of an ailing parent in Shoojit Sarcar’s 2015 film.
With Laapataa Ladies and Love Storiyaan, Dharmatic Entertainment’s docu-series on Prime Video, we see humour emerging as a tool of spirited subversion. The former is smart, sharp, satirical but not sanctimonious, dealing with significant feminist issues but with a deft, light, delightful and clever touch that doesn’t alienate men. “Humour is so disarming. You can approach the darkest of subjects and the most serious of issues in a softer, lighter way, and open them up for conversations, which I feel has a far more profound impact. We didn’t want monologues telling you what is right and what is wrong,” said Kiran Rao in a TNIE interview.
Love Storiyaan, on the journey to love and togetherness of six real life couples, also sees women take centre-stage but with their blithe spirit and playfulness intact. These are common women in an uncommon pursuit of love, having agency and equality in their relationships, and the vital right to choose. Most so, laughing and smiling away at that, despite the many cares and concerns. Farida Khatun aka Sharmila Saha Khuki personifies joie de vivre all through the struggles and sacrifices in her “khullam khulla (open, marked by abandonment)” love for Sunit, that bridges religious divides even as it severs her from her own family and forces her to move home from Bangladesh to India. She says that she has stayed on with Sunit because of his respect and compassion towards her.
Subhadra Kharpede’s romance with Rahul Banerjee broke the barriers of caste but her quest for identity and upliftment and making space for herself, have been all her own, negotiated without the aid or abetment of her husband’s name. Marriage is togetherness, arguing, laughing and dancing together. While being mindful of the minefields that women face on a day-to-day basis, these stories are cynicism-free and offer us that one thing we need most in life: positivity, hope and faith. And we could well do with more of that.
Namrata Joshi
Consulting Editor
Follow her on X @Namrata_Joshi