Barfi! - A sweet cine-treat for all

As Published in Express Tribune

For someone who had not seen the rushes, Barfi! was a pleasant surprise. When I walked into the theatre I was unaware that I was about to watch a film where the lead actor had a speech and hearing impairment, and that the lead actress was autistic.

About ten minutes into the film, when the audience is told that Barfi, Ranbir Kapoor’s character in the film, had severe impairments, I braced myself to watch another emotive movie that would leave me crying profusely and feeling sorry for the differently-abled.

Until the end, I kept waiting for that moment.

The film manages to constantly put a smile on your face and gently sprinkles bouts of laughter in several scenes.

Director Anurag Basu had proven that he understands the myriad complexity of human emotions when he made Life In A Metro in 2007; with Barfi!, he has gone a step further.

Barfi had all the reasons to be a traditional Bollywood tragic hero – his mother died at birth, he’s poor and penniless through his youthful days and is left brokenhearted by a rich girl. However, Barfi is different and so is Jhilmil, Priyanka Chopra’s character, an autistic child who is loveless and companion-less for most of her screen life.

Attempting to carefully understand the lives and needs of autistic and differently-abled people, Basu has pulled his lead characters out of their traditional roles in a cry-fest.

Ranbir Kapoor is not only the current hot-favourite among the girls, but has also been consistent in getting critics’ accolades. This is another such performance which can bag a huge chunk of the awards next year.

At the start of the movie, where Ranbir Kapoor is being chased by a policeman, played by Saurabh Shukla, Ranbir’s expression of youthful carelessness and joy comes alive on the screen. The scene is also shot wonderfully well with interesting camera angles, and contributes a great deal in building up the pace of the movie.

I felt, however, that Priyanka Chopra has overdone her bit. The worst criticism for an actor is when the audience can see the actor as being separate from the character, and that is exactly what Priyanka does in several scenes. Jhilmil is lost (or overdone) reminding the audience constantly that they are watching Priyanka Chopra’s pretence. The scene when Jhilmil is brought back home from ‘Muskaan’, a foster home for differently-abled people, exemplifies my point.

South Indian actress Illeana D’Cruz surely gets into the skin of her character named Shruti, who is also the narrator of the story. She is crafty, both at the romantic scenes and at the emotional ones.

More than once during the 180 minutes, the audience is caught sitting intently on the edge of their seats, predicting the character’s next move. Some of those moments are when Shruti holds the train ticket in her hand and is deciding whether to leave her life as a wife of a rich man behind; when Shurti hears Jhilmil scream out Barfi’s name and is in the dilemma of whether to convey that to Barfi, and the scene in which Jhilmil runs behind Barfi’s moving bus.

The music is exceptional and keeps in tone with the changing mood of the film. Music director Pritam does the trick again in getting the music just enough attention that is required. The songs do not take away attention from the scenes, neither are they too insignificant that they go unnoticed.

Barfi! is an enjoyable watch, mostly because it springs a surprise on the audience and let’s them carry a sweet, happy feeling back to their homes.

Thank you for letting me travel to Pakistan!

As Published in Express Tribune

Pakistan had always been a reality to me, unlike for some people who couldn’t believe that there was another nation carved out of the Indian subcontinent. But, for me, it was just another nation that existed before I was born.

In 2007, I chanced upon a scholarship to finish a part of my semester in Kinnaird College, Lahore.  Lahore fascinated me ever since. It was in Lahore that Sahir Ludhianvi (my favourite lyricist) spent his romantic years, where Jaun Eliya (my favourite poet) struggled through his life and Sa’adat Hasan Manto (my favouurite writer) passed away.

While my only fear was what the city would offer to a vegetarian, as I packed my bags to leave, my family and friends were very concerned for my physical safety.

Just days before I was to enter the alluring city, due to a spat between the heads of states of India and Pakistan, all visas (except diplomatic visas) were cancelled.  That was the closest I had come to experiencing Pakistan.

Three years later, another scholarship took me to the US, to complete my studies.  I had never thought that a scholarship that was funded by the governments of US and India, would bring me closer to Pakistan.

On the University of Colorado Boulder's beautiful, lush lawns, 25 students from across the world, who had been granted the same scholarship gathered and spoke in hushed tones about the upcoming introductory seminars.  From the corner of my eye, I caught one gentleman giving me a long, thoughtful look.  From the color of his skin, I could tell that he was from my part of the world, but his shy, almost withdrawn nature made me nervous about approaching him.

Finally, he came over and said, "I have wanted to say hi to you for a long time. You are from India, right?"  I answered edgily, "Yes, I am Raksha."  I extended my hand.  Under his beard was a smile and look of unmistakable intelligence.  "I am Bilal.  I am from Pakistan."  Soon, we realized that not only were we about to attend the same grad school, Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, but that we would also be living in the same building!

That introduction was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and also the reason I forged many other precious friendships during my stay in the US.  Bilal introduced me to Sana, a bubbly Pakistani woman whose laughter resonates long after she has left the room.

As time passed and we settled into our routines (which involved going to school, working late and spending weekends catching up on sleep), we realized that our calendars allowed for spending time together.  On most days, the three of us dined together.  We visited Times Square and the Statue of Liberty, and ate tons and tons of 

South Asian food while chatting mostly in Hindustani.

It is interesting how certain situations and places can highlight different aspects of one's identity.  In New York, Sana, Bilal and I were no longer from the two warring nations.  We were students of Columbia University, who shared food, culture and language as opposed to several others from different parts of the world. 

When Sana called us each evening, Bilal and I immediately knew the agenda: we would order a large pizza with jalapeno peppers and pineapple, and sit on Sana’s bed listening to stories about her childhood.  We watched American and Pakistani sitcoms, and laughed well into the night.

Today, months after graduation, there is a bond between us that goes beyond all barriers, in spite of the fact that we are separated by what some call the impermeable borders between India and Pakistan.

As I now plan a visit to Pakistan to meet Bilal’s newly wed wife and gang up with Sana for a hiking trip on the Margalla Hills, I hope some day the history will remain deeply buried and never return to haunt us. 

Judging Women, Eh?

As published in Tehelka

Every time you think the society couldn’t degenerate any further, there is an example that proves you wrong. Justice Bhaktavatsala, a Karnataka High Court judge, was one such example that came up this past week when he justified wife beating, reportedly in a matter-of-fact way.

However, the light at the end of the tunnel became brighter as all family court matters, including child custody and guardianship, was shifted from him to other judges by the end of the week. This came as a result of many online petitions and protests by Women’s Rights organisations.

That is not the end of the story. If anything, it is the beginning. When a qualified man speaks frustrating non-sense with effortless ease, it is sign that the society needs a serious revamp.

Addressing a woman in a marriage dispute case, Justice Bhaktavatsala had said, “Women suffer in all marriages.  You are married with two children, and know what it means to suffer as a woman. Yesterday, there was a techie couple who, reconciled for the sake of their child. Your husband is doing good business; he will take care of you. Why are you still talking about his beatings?” he said to a woman who had accused her husband of excessively beating her.

When I first heard about blatant gender bias in the Karnataka High Court, a part of me was in denial. I wanted to believe that Justice Bhaktavatsala’s blasphemous comments were an aberration.

But, no. Bhaktavatsala’s idea of justice includes several other gems of patronising, male chauvinistic thoughts. In August, the same judge told a young woman lawyer who was trying to argue in a marriage dispute case, “Family matters should be argued only by married people, not spinsters. You should only watch. Bachelors and spinsters watching family court proceedings will start thinking if there is any need to marry at all. Marriage is not like a public transport system. You better get married and you will get very good experience to argue such cases.”

Unfortunately for women, there are many in the rank and file of the judiciary who consider women subordinate to men, and as instruments meant to comfort and please men. The question here is of law versus justice. Can having stringent laws to protect Women’s Rights change outlooks and provide women with the justice they deserve? A well implemented law is more important than a law on paper. The Convocation on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), believes that Indian law ranks much higher than most countries when it comes to the issue of gender justice.

However, justice is a combination of enactment of laws responsive to the changing needs of time, their effective enforcement and their proactive interpretation and application. How can justice be strengthened if not by educating the dispensers of it? The Justice Bhaktavatsala incident is a wake up call for the Indian judicial system that it is not enough to merely have stringent laws, but also to genuinely educate the dispensers of justice so as to open their minds to the changing times.

When less qualified men make gender biased statements, we put it down to their lack of exposure and conveniently ignore them. Once, an auto-rickshaw driver had said to me, “poore kapde pehenegi to koi chhedega nahi, (you will not be teased if you are fully covered)” gaping at my jeans and cotton top. I had smiled at his perspective and disregarded it, knowing that saying anything will fall on deaf ears.

If things are as bad today, I can’t help but wonder how things would have been without decades of arduous Women’s Liberation movements across the civilised world. Or did they help at all?