Lipstick Under My Burkha review: The shame is upon us

Lipstick Under My Burkha cracks you up as it cracks open the shameful truth of blatant chauvinism

Rosy is looking out of a window. Her gaze travels as far as her eyes can see and her imagination runs wild, like the wind in an open field, touching what she desires. She tells herself that she must not, but as tears swell up in her eyes, she blinks, and finds herself staring into nothingness. Her feet are itching to run, yet, she does not move. She presses them firmly to the ground, shuts the window and turns a mirror to the ones who hold her back.

In Alankrita Shrivastava's Lipstick Under My Burkha, Rosy’s desires are narrated to bring out the inner selves of four women, the residents of Hawa Mahal in Bhopal, who must not dream.

Sound pours through the thin walls of the dilapidated building they share, which intertwines their otherwise unconnected stories. Their actions tussle with the exaggerated machismo and hubris that is associated with an unfortunately abundant class of men, who assume the roles of their sexual partners, lovers, husbands and even fathers. The young director’s vision gives them the finger.

As the women spread their legs to take a wider stance, a few scenes are bound to make some stiff-necked people (like the ones who wanted to ban the film) uncomfortable, give the naïve a new perspective and others some shame.

Fleshed-out lead characters derive the strength for an impactful performance through a strong script and a tight screenplay, and each of them deserves a special mention. The most uncouth dialogues (written by Gazal Dhaliwal) are sequenced in a casual and relatable manner, which makes the movie amusing and memorable.

Usha, played by the veteran Ratna Pathak Shah is Bhuajii to all, until she finds her virginal shyness when she crushes on her swimming coach. Pathak duals her character into a kind-hearted yet authoritative matriarch on one hand and a secret seductress on the other with masterful ease. Her slow-motion perspective of the “broad-chested” Jaspal (played by Jagat Singh Solanki) as he preps for a dive into the pool is as amusing as heartfelt. She muzzles her moaning with a running tap and shows boundless joy floating in the arms of the one she desires in a class-act.

The talented Aahana Kumra is as natural as Leela, who wants to kiss in the mountains, demand sex when she desires and make a tape while she's at it. She is unstoppably vibrant, who has a business plan to run the house for her widowed mother or run away with her photographer lover on the brink of an arranged marriage. Plabita Borthakur is the convincing teenager Rihana who idolises Miley Cyrus, wears jeans and boots under her burkha and wants to fall in love, all the things that she is not permitted to do. When her dance at an engagement party makes her orthodox parents ground her, she dances it off on her bed without any music. Biting her anger is a workaround Rihana keenly follows and Borthakur lights up the character with her performance.

Surrounded by talent from all sides, you still can’t miss Konkona Sensharma as Shireen Khan, the mother of three and a master saleswoman, who can win the hearts of all her customers but not her boorish husband, played effortlessly by old-stager Sushant Singh (not Rajput).

Such simplistic desires, yet Shireen is more than once subjected to marital rape, (which she fails to recognise); Leela is called a slut for demanding sex (she is still the one to apologise); Rihana is caged by an unwavering narrow-minded father (and mother); and Usha is humiliated for her libido (of a man considered a sign of good health). It is unfortunate for men that the story generalises them as oppressors, but weighing the odds against the majority, it is the unfortunate truth of the country. The story takes a realistic approach to feminism without being preachy.

Yet, the culmination of the narratives at the Hawa Mahal shows the women with augmented wings, who are not ready to take a flight. Their lives in absolute chaos with little sign of a fight back is realistic, but not inspiring. The film shies away from delivering the final kick.

To break traditions, rules and practices that are woven into the social fabric of her very existence, a woman must wield a lot of courage and is bound to be emotionally vulnerable. The film is a telling tale for men who have not yet digested the notion of equality for all as a birth right. And for the ones who are learning to “grant” the women their desired freedom, it’s time that they step aside.

The Prakash Jha production, Lipstick Under My Burkha treats multiple hush-hush subjects with the essential dose of entertainment. It’s neither “serious” nor “scandalous”. It’s one of those movies that reward its viewers for their time and makes a filmmaker relevant.