It has been an agonizing August for Indian women. Tragic events have highlighted the ongoing struggle for gender equality, bringing forth both anguish and resilience. A medical student in Kolkata met a brutal end, her silencing prompting widespread outrage and the poignant cry, *beti padhi par bachi nahin* (the daughter studied but could not survive). Meanwhile, a champion wrestler faced derogatory remarks about her weight from a female MP associated with the film industry, all for missing her weight category by a mere 100 grams.
However, amidst this gloom, the month has also been a period of cinematic empowerment for women standing up against injustice. This renegotiation of women’s roles in societal engagement was spotlighted when the film *Aattam* (The Play) earned accolades at the National Awards. Directed by first-time filmmaker Anand Ekarshi, the compelling Malayalam drama reveals the often hidden threats that women face even in the seemingly safest and most supportive environments. Set within the sphere of theatre and cinema, the film unmasks the men who practice gender sensitivity only when it suits them, highlighting the paradoxes and perils women continue to encounter.
This recognition arrived just as the Kerala government finally released the Justice Hema Committee report, almost five years after its submission. The report lays bare the rampant harassment and discrimination that women in the Malayalam film industry endure, perpetrated by a powerful clique of male producers, directors, and actors. The state’s lengthy delay in making the report public has been criticized, yet this marks the first instance of an Indian government forming a panel to specifically investigate the issues confronting women in the film industry. The concerns raised resonate widely across India, where Bollywood actors have recurrently spoken about gender discrimination and the pervasive casting couch culture, though such complaints frequently get suppressed.
Drawing parallel attention, Christo Tomy’s *Ullozhukku* (Undercurrent) was making significant waves concurrently on a popular streaming platform and at the Kerala State Awards. This tender narrative, set in a flood-ravaged village, uses rising floodwaters as a metaphor for overflowing emotions, dissecting the traditional moralities and guilt imposed on women. With standout performances by Urvashi and Parvathy, *Ullozhukku* offers a rare examination of women’s relationships within mainstream cinema. Director Tomy sensitively explores the intricate bond between a mother-in-law and her daughter-in-law after the death of their connecting family member, delving into the control exerted over women’s bodies both before and after marriage. The film also issues a stark reminder that Kerala’s Christian community is equally subject to sectarian and patriarchal constraints.
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Further broadening the discussion on screen bonds between women, Kiran Rao’s *Laapataa Ladies* was recently screened for Supreme Court judges. Like *Ullozhukku*, this film addresses the rigid, homegrown regulations imposed on women but employs a lighter, more comedic touch. By peeling back the layers of an unjust society, Rao reveals the ingrained patriarchy that continues to render women invisible. In the film, the determined Jaya discovers a crack in the iron curtain of tradition and escapes, likened to a blade of grass sprouting from a rock crevice. Conversely, the naive Phool, trapped in a patriarchal marriage masked as culture, finds herself abandoned on a railway platform and symbolically hidden behind a dustbin marked ‘use me.’
The dustbin metaphor also appears powerfully in Nithilan Swaminathan’s *Maharaja*, where a father uses it at a police station to describe his missing daughter. This narrative device starkly contrasts with the corrupt systems that force the protagonist to bribe law enforcement to initiate any action. Both *Laapataa Ladies* and *Maharaja* illustrate that engaging with the police can feel more violating than theft itself, underlining a recurring nightmare for many.
Although opinions may diverge on the depiction of violence in film, the resilience of the female protagonists in their quests against malevolent forces leaves an indelible mark. This sentiment echoes in Nikkhil Advani’s *Vedaa*, where a Dalit girl defiantly challenges caste and moral gatekeepers.
Though these films feature male saviors, the courage imbued in the female characters is far from superficial. In stark contrast, Amar Kaushik’s sharp satirical film *Stree 2* confronts literal demons who enforce patriarchy by preying on women who choose paths of progressive education, love, and even haircuts.
When Pankaj Tripathi, in impeccable Hindi, asserts that the length of a woman’s braid is irrelevant, as even *parkati* (short-haired) women can thwart the “Sarkata” (headless male chauvinist), it invokes memories of a 1997 political debate on the Women’s Reservation Bill. The issue of gender-based marginalization in India continues to evolve, but cinema remains a powerful tool in illuminating both the trials and triumphs faced by women.
Indian cinema, evolving yet grounded in its historical struggles, continues to be a mirror reflecting the broader societal dynamics. From state awards to international recognition, these films underscore the broad spectrum of women’s experiences – from subjugation to reclamation of power, making each story a part of a larger narrative in the ongoing fight for gender equality.
