Imitiaz Ali has been one of my favourite filmmakers since he made his debut with Socha Na Tha (2005) starring Ayesha Takia and Abhay Deol. He wowed his audiences with rom-com drama Jab We Met (2007), Love Aaj Kal (2009) and Rockstar (2011). Three years later, Ali returns with Alia Bhatt-Randeep Hooda starrer Highway (2014). I went to watch this movie with skepticism and doubt because I kept on thinking how will the age gap between Bhatt and Hooda will work on the silver screen. After all, Bhatt's debut with Karan Johar's Student of the Year (2012) had casted her as a young, popular arrogant girl very much like Veronica in Archie comics. However, having faith in Ali, I braced myself for what was going to be unforgettable two and half hours of my life.
At the heart of this powerful film is a very sensitive issue that many people fear to speak about. Rapes and sexual abuse of young children is unfortunately an unspoken commonality in India. No one speaks about them publicly because it can tarnish reputation and honour of families. The perpetrators are not held for their criminal offense and in order to protect the honour of families rich or poor, women and men grow up traumatized unable to comprehend the contradictions that are before them. Both Veera and Mahabir are victims of such a society. Veera's uncle and family friend rapes her since the age of nine luring her with chocolates and gifts and her own mother stops her from speaking the truth and behaving as if everything is "normal." Mahabir bears witness to his mother's abuse. She is prostituted by his own father to cater to the "needs" of rich men. Therefore, the film alludes to a glaring issue that rarely gets taken up in the socio-political fabric of India. The film suggests that rape and sexual abuse arguably over-rides class complexities within India. Perhaps the most powerful moment is the climax of the film when Veera confronts her family - she says, "growing up, you told me to be careful of strangers outside our home but you never told me that I should be careful inside my home too." She finally screams the pain and trauma she felt at the tender age of nine.
As the film ends, audiences in the theater were left baffled and in awe of Alia's performance. Perhaps more endearing is the issue at stake in the film. Although a mainstream "popular culture" film, Imitiaz Ali speaks to a very current social issue that needs our attention. Honour and reputation are used as tools to silence voices of the innocent boys and girls who grow up in traumatic situations not only as street kids who witness atrocities but also in the luxurious homes of the rich where sexual abuse and rape is kept under the rug to prevent dialogue. Sexual abuse and rape sometimes happens in the public and the crowd just watches sometimes not reacting or not partaking in saving the victims. In a country where films like Mother India (Mehmood, 1957) are heralded and where women are revered as Goddesses in mythology and religion, why are such cases silenced?
I understand the need to protect honour but at the stake of one's child who is traumatized without their own pain and hurt unacknowledged is something that I struggle with when I see such cases or watch movies or television shows that address the issues. Part of the problem too is the lack of trust in counselling and therapists because again it has to do with reputations. If you see a counselor or a therapist, automatically you are ostracized from the society. However, if one really thinks about it, the importance and relevance of such services should be made emphasized within our society. I would suggest that the film not only does justice highlighting and underscoring a very important issue but also addressing the need for counselors and therapists who are there to deal with children who have suffered from sexual abuse.
Finally, a reviewer of the film questions the choices Ali makes for Veera's Stolkholm syndrome - a psychological moment when the kidnapper and oppressed share a traumatic bond. The reviewer sets the moral precedent arguing that the film is sending the "wrong message" with a very subdued love-angle justifying the crime of abduction. To some extent, I can see the reviewer's moral dilemma as he or she questions,
Soon, Alia makes an attempt to bond with Randeep and trust him enough to share with him a childhood trauma. But the film, despite Ali's sensitive handling of a prickly issue, sets a wrong precedent. Among an ocean of subjects to choose from, women once again find themselves the subject of harassment, threats and intimidation on screen. Does the captive's identification with the captor make the act of kidnapping legally acceptable? At a time when the crimes against the women are on the rise should Bollywood have shown more maturity?
While I can see his or her argument that such films might increase kidnapping and rape because it does in many ways romanticize the relationship between the captor and captive, however, I would suggest that the film does more to complicate the bond between Mahabir and Veera. In our society, there is a definite need to define relationships. If there isn't a name for it, it is viewed as something that is seedy or unacceptable. But, that is exactly the relationship that both Mahabir and Veera have - they bond over the fact that both of them have witnessed the exploitation of women. Veera feels that she can be honest with Mahabir and he will accept her as she is without any judgement or pre-conceived notions about her as a person. Therefore, Ali creates a very complex relationship between the two. Although there is a hint that both of them are romantically attracted to each other, there is no hint that their relationship is purely sexual. Instead, they bond over trauma - which is something- that is uneasy to talk about, difficult to unravel, and definitely something that is not easy to understand if you have not suffered it yourself.
The writer also questions if Ali's film will further promote the idea that kidnapping and abduction is "acceptable," however, my response to such an observation (albeit valid) is that we are capable of making the right moral decisions without being influenced by films. If we are able to easily get influenced by such films, then these issues will never be brought to attention and become a source of discourse both academic and non-academic. A similar film called Pinjar (Chandra Prakesh Diwedi, 2003) showed a similar trauma that the main female protagonist experienced during the time of the Partition. Although she hates her kidnapper (Manoj Bajpai), she falls in love with him at the end when her own family rejects her because she has tarnished their honour. Hence, these type of relationships are not easy to unpack without understanding the subjectivity of each person involved. To say that such films will influence increase in abductions does not make any sense to me, who believes that change can only take place in the society if we are willing to discuss it out in the open, admit to our weaknesses and faults, accept ourselves for our imperfections (and grow from them), and become tolerant and accepting of others. No one can be perfect. We are born always already imperfect. No one can be absolutely "good" or "bad" because every human is a complex amalgamation of heart, soul, mind, love, desire, and hate. Each and everyone has a reason for their decisions, for whom they are, and their actions. To think otherwise is to think that there is an absolute perfection and no human being is without fault and in my mind, that is God - or the Higher Being. Hence, this film needs to be watched with such lens to understand the humanity that lies within Veera and Mahabir and their struggle for peace and freedom!
Images & Sources: media1.santabanta.com, datastore4.rediff.com, images.songsuno.com, and ibnlive.inc.com
© Nidhi Shrivastava 2014 This content is subject to copyrights. Please ask for my permission before using this content for any purpose.
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