Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara

Director: Jahnu Barua

Cast: Anupam Kher, Urmila Matondkar, Waheeda Rehman, Prem Chopra, Rajit Kapur, Pravin Dabas, Boman Irani

8/10

With MGKNM, renowned ASsamese director Jahnu Barua ? known for his ‘anti-establishment’ films about oppression and injustice (Papori, Halodiya Choraye Baodhan Khaye) steps into the New Mainstream, currently being waded by both ‘marginal’ and masala filmmakers alike. Where every film claims to be hatke and anything goes. And MGKNM is ‘different’, and its message loud and clear. Old-fashioned idealism (and filmmaking!) fades but never dies.

Erudite absent-minded professor (Anupam) loses short-term memory and regresses to childhood state of mind. Psychiatrists (Prem, Pravin) term it as progressive mental disorder bordering on dementia. But his condition is actually triggered by vivid images of himself as an 8-year-old boy playing with a toy gun, and the deadly coincidence of Gandhiji being shot dead on the same day. Complex idea. And to his credit, Barua weaves it into a simple sensitive narrative, lucid screenplay. With emotion, without compromising his premise.

Historical factual instance of Gandhiji’s assassination on January 30, 1948, 4:17 pm is superimposed on a fictional moment from childhood memory of a character who believes he’s held responsible for Bapuji’s death. So the treatment becomes kind of tragic magic-real, docu-fiction rising to heightened drama (make-believe courtroom hearing). As we delve into psychological trauma of someone who dwells in the past, tormented by guilt for a crime he never committed but feels accused of.

From portraying old father-courage in Saaransh in early career, to playing every possible Bollywood Daddy stereotype ? comic, cool, kanjoos, villainous ? Anupam comes full circle in MGKNM. With a touching performance as Baba, a 60-something Gandhian (khadi, spectacles, ideology in place) helplessly captive in his own mental prison.

And Urmila is superb as his dutiful daughter who sacrifices her own career and personal happiness in order to take care of her ailing vulnerable father. In a poignant moment, as she tries to make him recollect a favourite poem he’d taught her, her eyes express a gamut of emotions. From frustration to sadness to utter love for her old father whom she must now treat as a child. “Bolo, himmat karnewalon ki kabhi haar nahin hoti” (those who have courage, never fail) she cajoles him. And we nod in agreement.

Mandira Mitra