BEGUM JAAN (A)
Director: Srijit Mukherji
Cast: Vidya Balan, Naseeruddin Shah, Gauahar Khan,
Pallavi Sharda, Chunky Pandey, Pitobash Tripathy, Ashish Vidyarthi, Rajit Kapur, Ila Arun
Running time: 135 minutes
A large part of my childhood was spent listening to my grandmother narrate the horror of a single night when she and her family had to abandon their sprawling home in East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, and make their way across the border under the cover of darkness, even as bodies — some known, some unknown — fell around them. Till the time she died a little more than two decades ago, that — and not this — was home for her.
Many such stories could be found and heard in many homes in the years following 1947. That was the year India became independent, but there were millions who lost their freedom, their home and many, their lives. Srijit Mukherji — who faithfully rehashes his 2015 film Rajkahini in Begum Jaan — tells one such story ‘where freedom fought independence’, where a group of women took on the might of two nations, and finally went fighting down.
If you have watched Rajkahini, then you know what to expect from Begum Jaan. Srijit, making his Bollywood debut here, does an almost copy-paste job of Rajkahini, scene to sequence, drama to dialogue. He does away with some initial scenes, but strives to give a contemporary twist to Begum Jaan with an opening moment unmistakably referencing the Delhi rape case. A scene where an old woman strips in full public view to ward off a bunch of men out to rape a young woman, a possible nod to Saadat Hasan Manto’s Khol Do, a powerful short story fleshed out in Rajkahini but largely glossed over in Begum Jaan. Srijit dedicates Begum Jaan to both Manto and Ismat Chughtai in the opening credits.
Begum Jaan, like Rajkahini, has a potentially explosive idea that never translates into an explosive film. But the first half, opening with an Amitabh Bachchan voice-over, sets up the film well enough. Following the British’s exit from India — 1947’s Brexit, on a lighter note — viscount Cyril Radcliffe is afforded the unenviable task of dividing one country into two. Radcliffe’s plan — drawn up mechanically — hits a roadblock with the discovery that the “Radcliffe Line” runs right through a brothel owned by Begum Jaan (Vidya Balan), an all-powerful madam described variously as “naagin” and “damdaar aurat” who drives terror in the hearts of all and has the administration — including the region’s raja (Naseeruddin Shah) — by the you-know-what. “Jism hamara, marzi hamari aur kanoon bhi hamara,” Begum Jaan hollers somewhere towards the beginning and that’s the rule she and her girls live and die by, putting up a spirited fight and refusing to leave their home.
But the spirit of Begum Jaan is overshadowed by its shrillness. History meets hysteria, with the film never really becoming the statement on female empowerment that it aspires to be. There are many moments that call for subtlety in Begum Jaan, but that’s all drowned in cacophony — if it’s not the women screaming abuses in every accent possible, then it’s the deafening background score — all of which make Begum Jaan an extremely trying film to sit through, even at 135 minutes.
Which is a pity because Srijit invests Begum Jaan — an obvious nod to defining woman-power films like Shyam Benegal’s Mandi and Ketan Mehta’s Mirch Masala — with some nice touches, including that metaphor of the brothel as an oasis where regions and religions meld even as the world outside is being divided on the same parameters. The scenes where the girls sing and dance with abandon lend a touch of lightness to an otherwise heavy film.
But even as it does well to cut out some of the Rajkahini flab, Begum Jaan uses a few devices that only serve to make it a clunkier watch. Like Ila Arun’s elderly Amma who narrates stories of Laxmibai, Razia Sultana and Mirabai, with Vidya playing the Sheroes in a sequence of scenes that look like a comic book badly done; or using that inexplicable half-face camera angle whenever Ashish Vidyarthi and Rajit Kapur, who play the Indian and Pakistani officials entrusted with the task of giving Begum Jaan and co. the boot, are in the frame.
Vidya invests all she has in Begum Jaan but is unable to rise above the mediocre writing. Her introduction scene — lying face down on a cot and smoking a hookah even as she spews abuse and shows who’s the boss — is powerful, with Vidya speaking more through her eyes than words. But very soon, Begum Jaan degenerates into a series of cliches, her initial steely demeanour giving way to a loud mix of anger and helplessness.
The girls, with the exception of Gauahar Khan and Pallavi Sharda, are given little scope and even the normally dependable Pitobash Tripathy comes off as one-note. But Chunky Pandey — chilling with an applause-worthy makeover — makes the most of his screen time. Anu Malik’s music — Prem mein tohre, Aazadiyan and Woh subah being the picks — are soulful but pop up too often.
Begum Jaan is a clear case of what could have been. In the mood? Rent a DVD of Mandi to see what a bunch of women can do when their spirit and soul are under fire.
Priyanka Roy
