No two films in the recent past have elicited as much
discussion as Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s Rang De Basanti (2006) and
Rajkumar Hirani’s Lage Raho Munna Bhai (2006). Both films meditate
on contemporary society and draw inspiration from history. The
protagonists of Rang De Basanti take inspiration from revolutionary
nationalists and the protagonist of Lage Raho Munna Bhai from
Gandhi. This article is a series of reflections on why these two films,
inspired by two politically divergent ideologies, may have captured the
imagination of the people.
Rang De Basanti is about a group of restless college
students who participate in the making of a film on the political
activities of militant revolutionaries led by Chandrashekhar Azad and
Bhagat Singh. The filmmaker, Sue (Alice Patten), bases her script on the
diary of her grandfather who served as superintendent at a jail where the
young rebels were imprisoned. The diary becomes a chronicle and tribute to
their political activities. After being refused funding for the film, Sue
comes to India determined to complete the project. She is assisted by
Sonia (Soha Ali Khan) who offers to work for free. Unable to find a
suitable cast through auditions, Sue and Sonia persuade a group of friends
to act in the film. Karan Singhania (Siddharth Suryanarayan),
disillusioned son of a rich and corrupt father, plays Bhagat Singh,
Daljeet or DJ (Aamir Khan), a charming, jobless youth plays Chandrashekhar
Azad and their allies are played by Aslam (Karan Kapoor), Sukhi (Sharmaan
Joshi) and Laxman Pandey (Atul Kulkarni). Sonia herself is cast as Durga
Bhabi, the only woman revolutionary in the group.
The plot takes a turn when air force pilot, Ajay Rathod, a
friend of the group and Sonia’s fiancé, dies in a MiG-21 crash. It becomes
clear that inferior spare parts and corruption in the services are
responsible for the plane crash. The defence minister (Mohan Agashe)
denies charges of corruption and blames the crash on Ajay’s ineptitude.
The group organises a peaceful protest that is brutally attacked by the
Rapid Action Force (RAF), leaving Ajay’s elderly mother severely injured
and in a coma. In a replay, as it were, of the political assassination
planned by the young revolutionaries, the group plans and executes the
assassination of the defence minister. Contrary to what the group had
hoped, the defence minister is hailed as a great man and patriot. In order
to proclaim the truth as the boys see it, they take over the All India
Radio (AIR) building, hijack a live radio show and explain their actions
to the public. During the confession it is also revealed that Sukhi has
killed his father for being complicit in the corruption scam. State
reprisal is brutal. Black Cat commandos storm the building and kill the
boys.
In contrast to Rang De Basanti’s violent finale,
Lage Raho Munna Bhai advocates a non-violent approach to settling
conflicts. In a sequel to the superhit Munna Bhai MBBS (2003), the
now famous duo of taporis (small-time street hoods), Munna Bhai (Sunjay
Dutt), and his sidekick, Circuit (Arshad Warsi), return to propagate what
the filmmaker perceives to be the message of Mahatma Gandhi. Munna Bhai
falls in love with Jhanvi (Vidya Balan), a radio jockey who he would meet
in person if he were to win a quiz on Gandhi that she is conducting over
the radio. He wins the quiz by kidnapping and arm-twisting some history
teachers and is invited to the show for a live interview. He meets her on
the show pretending to be a history professor whose mission is to spread
‘Gandhigiri’ among the youth by using tapori lingo. Impressed with
Munna Bhai’s dedication to Gandhi, Jhanvi invites him to speak to a bunch
of elderly men who, after being abandoned by their own children, live in
her house. Left with no option but to study, he immerses himself in the
dusty books housed in a dilapidated library devoted to Gandhi’s life and
thoughts. After three nights of continuous studying, Gandhi shows up to
meet Munna Bhai. The only problem is that no one else can see Gandhi so
everyone thinks the poor man is hallucinating.
Subsequently, Gandhi becomes Munna Bhai’s mentor and
advisor. With Gandhi’s help, Munna manages to impress the geriatrics
thereby consolidating his reputation as a great Gandhian. Thus begins
Munna Bhai’s journey of discovering the value of Gandhigiri as he embarks
on solving all problems through non-violent means. Therefore, when Lucky
Singh (Boman Irani), an unscrupulous contractor, deviously takes over the
home of Jhanvi and the elderly inmates, Munna Bhai refuses to react
violently. Instead, he stages a peaceful satyagraha in front of Lucky’s
house and sends him flowers every day. Through Jhanvi’s radio show, Munna
Bhai and Gandhi sort out listeners’ problems by suggesting non-violent
means of protest, which seem to work like magic. The final reckoning comes
when Gandhi persuades Munna Bhai to reveal his real identity to Jhanvi.
However, all ends well with Lucky Singh having a change of heart when
Gandhigiri saves his reputation and his daughter from a bad marriage. The
house is restored to the elderly and Jhanvi accepts Munna Bhai for what he
is. In the very last sequence, Lucky Singh immerses himself in Gandhian
thought in the same dusty library only to have the great man materialise
out of thin air once again.
Both Lage Raho Munna Bhai and Rang De Basanti
have been huge box office hits. Rang De Basanti earned 22.8 crore
worldwide within the first four days of its release while Lage Raho
Munna Bhai was made tax free by the Delhi government for promoting
Gandhian ideals. Both the print and electronic media continue to run
stories about how the two films have changed people’s lives and attitudes.
Rang De Basanti reportedly inspired the public to protest against
the Jessica Lal case verdict while Lage Raho Munna Bhai was
credited with having inspired various groups (including students of
Lucknow University) to resort to non-violence. The media has also reported
on how the film has increased the sales of books and related memorabilia
on Gandhi.
One does not have to be a media scholar to appreciate that
these are wild exaggerations. The Jessica Lal protests had less to do with
Rang De Basanti than a simmering rage about the travesty of justice
in what was a murder in full public view. Similarly, peaceful
demonstrations have always coexisted with violent ones. Hirani’s film may
have temporarily affected the sale of Gandhi related books and memorabilia
but is by no means the sole factor. (It would be interesting to see how
long the 250-member website advocating Gandhigiri survives). Outlook
magazine of September 11, 2006 reported that the number of
publishers/authors applying for rights of Gandhi’s works doubled in the
last 2-3 years and that 1,000-2,000 new books on Gandhi are published
every year. In the opening scenes of Rang De Basanti, the
commissioning editor turns down Sue’s proposal on Bhagat Singh while
observing that "Gandhi sells". If anybody is responsible for selling
Gandhi, it is the Mahatma himself. Gandhi is a compelling and
controversial figure who will always elicit interest because of his
iconoclasm and political genius.
Both Rang De Basanti and Lage Raho Munna Bhai
address contemporary anxieties and suggest remedies that draw inspiration
from the past. Rang De Basanti uses a layered and complex narrative
that actively invites multiple readings while Lage Raho Munna Bhai
has a simpler, more linear narrative structure. Since the film’s release,
it is common to find at least one item in the media where someone lauds
the fact that Munna Bhai has brought Gandhi back to life. Hirani’s playful
engagement with Gandhi is most refreshing. But how exactly does this
playful Gandhi relate to his historical counterpart? Even a rudimentary
familiarity with Gandhi will reveal that his philosophy and strategies of
political resistance were both complex and astute. As Ajit Duara correctly
observes (The Hindu, October 1, 2006), Gandhi’s "greatest legacy to
India and the world was a form of political agitation known as civil
disobedience which frequently did lead to violence but which was so
original a philosophy that it worked in certain circumstances and against
certain regimes." He argues that an ahistorical application of civil
disobedience strategies is unlikely to work and had Gandhi been alive
today, he would probably have advocated very different measures to curb
corruption than his screen counterpart. In one sequence, for example, a
retired pensioner strips down to his underwear to shame the corrupt
official into giving him his cheque. "If he came to life today, as he does
in the film," writes Duara, "he would approve of a strict enforcement of
the law, including the arrest and detention of corrupt officials." In
Hirani’s film, Gandhi is an amiable social reformer who preaches
non-violence and honesty as a panacea for all ills. Divested of any
complexity, Gandhi emerges as a loveable, apolitical pacifist who is
unlikely to ruffle anyone’s feathers. But history tells us that Gandhi
ruffled feathers to such an extent that he was assassinated by Hindu
extremists.
I should add here that all filmmakers have a right to
interpret public figures in the manner they choose as long as they do not
present factual inaccuracies. Nor is there such a thing as ‘the’ true
interpretation. Therefore, I am not so interested in interrogating the
‘truth’ of such an interpretation as trying to understand why certain
interpretations become popular at certain moments in history. It is my
suggestion that in Lage Raho Munna Bhai, Gandhi represents not a
historical figure so much as an idea embodying contemporary society’s deep
desire for redemption. In an anxious society ridden by caste, class,
ethnic and communal conflicts, the film visualises a utopian world where
the perpetrators of violence and corruption are magically transformed by
the power of love. The desire for moral redemption (‘hriday parivartan’,
as Circuit calls it) drives the narrative of the film. It is uncertain
whether the Gandhi of later years, having failed to prevent the partition
of India or the communal madness that claimed hundreds of lives on both
sides, would have shared such a utopian vision of transforming the world.
But the film is by no means just a compendium of pious
homilies. The humour in the film emerges from both remembering and
forgetting Gandhi. When the satyagraha in front of Lucky Singh’s house
lands Munna and Circuit in jail, they fantasise about the benefits
accruing from walking the Gandhian path. They fantasise about their
statues being erected in parks, their faces appearing on 500 rupee notes
and their birthdays being declared a national holiday so long as it was
not a dry day! The film is non-judgemental about those who have forgotten
Gandhi because, the film seems to suggest, it is never too late to
remember.
If Lage Raho Munna Bhai embodies a utopian desire
for redemption, Rang De Basanti, despite its laughter, frivolity
and bonhomie, is a dystopian parable about the impossibility of it. In a
multiply layered narrative, historical reconstructions of the past
punctuate narratives of the present. The boys who act as revolutionaries
in the film embody the disillusion and cynicism of our times. In one of
the early sequences, a group of Hindu activists led by Laxman Pandey
attacks a party where DJ and his friends are dancing. Laxman accuses the
revellers of corrupting Indian culture with western ideas. In the
altercation that follows, Laxman calls Aslam a "Pakistani" thereby
provoking DJ into a fight. When the police arrive, DJ settles the matter
with a bribe. Earlier in the scene, Sukhi generously loans money to a
friend and remarks that his father had money enough to rot. This one scene
lays out the different registers of conflict that beset the lives of even
the privileged classes in India. Unlike Munna Bhai who, despite being a
gangster, has unbridled faith in the goodness of human beings, the boys in
Rang De Basanti are sceptics. The actions that lead to the dark
finale of the film are inspired not only by their deep empathy for the
historical figures whose roles they portray but precipitated equally by a
hopeless disillusion with the present. As DJ says, "Ik pair future mein
te ik pair past mein rakh kar aaj par moot rahe (With one foot in the
past and the other in the future, we are peeing on the present)."
Just as Lage Raho Munna Bhai’s popularity has been
accompanied by stories about the film popularising Gandhian values,
Rang De Basanti has been blamed for legitimising vendetta through
violence. "The film’s basic political prescription is scary," writes Kanti
Bajpai, academic and principal of Doon School, in Outlook (February
20, 2006), "Young people are encouraged to mete out vigilante justice and
then seek atonement through populist slogans and maverick explanations."
Similarly, in an edit page article in the Hindustan Times
(September 1, 2006), journalist Sagarika Ghosh writes, "Rang De Basanti
is a cult film for today’s youth. A film that preaches disrespect,
hedonism and historical forgetfulness while valorising murder is seen as
the great protest film of our time." This allegation is not new and films
with violent content frequently evoke this response.
Film studies in the last two decades, especially in the
1990s, revised and re-oriented the critical frameworks and categories
under which film violence has been traditionally studied and understood.
Research and scholarly work have dispelled the myth that films, however
violent, can cause violence except in stray individuals who are already
predisposed towards it. On the contrary, an interrogation of film violence
can provide useful insights into the workings of contemporary society.
The spectator’s engagement with film texts or any other
cultural form is complex and unpredictable. An engagement with the realm
of representation does not, except in exceptional situations, translate
directly into actions in the ‘real’ world. Take the last sequence of
Prakash Jha’s pro-feminist film, Mrityudand, (1997) where the
female protagonist (Madhuri Dixit) shoots the villain through the head as
a large collective of women gather to bear witness and suppress evidence.
Anyone remotely familiar with the plight of women in rural India will know
that such a resolution is more likely to be imagined than lived. But for
many spectators this ‘representational’ remedy may be empowering precisely
because it is impossible to achieve in real life.
Kanti Bajpai also laments the film’s suggestion that
"Indian Society is portrayed as perfectly good while the state is made to
look hopelessly bad." It may be useful to recall that Rang De Basanti
is by no means the first film to articulate disenchantment with the state.
In fact, more than any other popular cultural form, Bombay films have
consistently critiqued the decline of state machinery and the failure to
deliver social justice. Whether or not such representations are desirable
depends on one’s expectations about the role and purpose of cinema and on
which side of privilege one stands. Let us take a quick look at Rang De
Basanti’s architectural ancestors.
The post-1974 films of Amitabh Bachchan are articulations
about the crises of the state. The rise of the angry young man coincided
with, even anticipated, the declaration of Indira Gandhi’s Emergency,
independent India’s most oppressive experience of state repression. Not
only does the state retreat from its promise of delivering justice and
democratic rights, it unleashes terror on its citizens. From the mid-’70s
onward, innumerable films have depicted how the judiciary fails to deliver
justice, protecting instead those it ought to punish.
The films of the late ’80s and ’90s become more
categorical about the failure of the state and its machinery.
Representatives of the rule of law are shown to be directly complicit with
corruption and criminality. With lawlessness spilling over into
increasingly chaotic public spaces, notions of justice and revenge begin
to collide. As state institutions crumble, vigilante figures, or those I
call urban warriors, begin to function as surrogate law keepers.
In films such as Arjun (Rahul Rawail, 1985),
Parinda (Vidhu Vinod Chopra, 1989), Ghayal (Raj Kumar Santoshi,
1990), Narasimha (N. Chandra, 1991), Yeshwant (Anil Matto,
1997), Satya (Ram Gopal Verma, 1998), Ghulam (Vikram Bhatt,
1998), Shool (E. Niwas, 1999), Vaastav (Mahesh Manjrekar,
1999), Takshak, (Govind Nihalani, 2000), Kurukshetra (Mahesh
Manjrekar, 2000), Garv (Punit Issar, 2004) and Sehar (Kabir
Kaushik, 2005), the urban experience is shown to evoke terror, insecurity
and even madness.
In the 1990s the representational collapse of state
institutions and the imploding of boundaries between law and lawlessness
is complete. This ‘collapse’ becomes articulated particularly in the
mid-’90s around the emergence of the mafia or gangster films that lay bare
the intersections and overlaps between law keepers and lawbreakers, state
and society, order and chaos. In the landscape of Bombay films, state and
society cannot be separated. Perhaps for this reason, Rang De Basanti’s
finale provides two assassinations each representing the state and civil
society.
Cinema is a phantasmic site on which desires, aspirations,
fears and anxieties can be played out. Within the cinematic space,
imagination is paramount. Both Lage Raho Munna Bhai and Rang De
Basanti address contemporary desires and anxieties, which accounts for
their popular appeal. Neither however can be held responsible for either
aggravating or diminishing violent acts. The complexities of spectatorial
engagement becomes evident if we consider that there are many who have
strongly identified with both films regardless of their seemingly
divergent ideologies.
Notwithstanding the politics of violence or non-violence,
both films envision certain ways of living and being. Both Lage Raho
Munna Bhai and Rang De Basanti are texts primarily driven by
men and male friendship. Munna Bhai is in love with Jhanvi but his primary
companion is Circuit. In a world of collapsing certitudes and increasing
uncertainty, the constancy of love and friendship between Munna and
Circuit is no less attractive than Gandhigiri. Rang De Basanti has
two significant female protagonists who initiate the film-within-the-film
project that, in turn, acknowledges the historic role of Durga Bhabi. The
narrative, however, belongs to the boys around whom the climax of the film
is structured. To this end, the very last image of the film is
significant. The boys are resurrected, as it were, in the vast and
colourful expanse of the mustard fields. They watch approvingly as a young
boy called Bhagat Singh plants a sapling so that a thousand mangoes may
grow. We last see them drifting lyrically across the yellow flowers. Even
death, it appears, cannot part them. The parable of love and loyalty
explored through male bonding provides a poignant counterfoil to the
darkness of the film’s theme of violence and vendetta. In both films a
sense of community and reconciliation, fast declining in the anarchy and
uncertainty of a rapidly globalising world, is found in the constancy of
friendship. n