Padmavati and the story of Indian cinema

If loud nationalism is the currency of the day then the film industry has done a brilliant job by keeping audiences glued to Indian films. Just let it be

Could Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron (1983), Sujata (1959), Mughal-e-Azam (1960) or Bombay (1995) have been made in the India of today? Why is the Indian film industry so ineffectual at tackling protests?
 
Those are the key questions arising out of the events of the past few weeks. There is the furore over Viacom18’s Padmavati. The story of a fictional queen “could” hurt sensibilities, say protesters and naysaying politicians without having seen the film. An organisation of Brahmins sought a ban on the National Award-winning Marathi film Dashkriya which the Bombay high court has refused this week. They reckon, say reports, that it shows them in poor light. Just before the IFFI 2017 began in Goa this week, S Durga and Nude were dropped from the films to be screened by the ministry of information and broadcasting. This prompted three of the jury members who chose those films to resign.

 
Add an ill-informed media which amplifies regressive voices and a weak industry, and the recipe for going back in time is ready. There is, now, a huge amount of self-censorship at work in studios rattled by this hyper-conservatism. The Rs 14,230-crore Indian film industry is about one-fourth the size of TV, has no muscle power, pathetic lobbying skills and suffers from a “fluffy” image that it has done precious little to change.
 

Each film employs between 200 and 400 people directly and many more indirectly creating millions of jobs and bringing in thousands of crores in taxes. There is no study that tells you about its contribution to the Indian economy, its society and its democracy. Or the edge its soft power offers over any emerging economy. Or that 3 Idiots and Dangal’s success in China truly bothered the officialdom in that country. The Motion Picture Association of America or Creative Industries Council (UK) tell powerful stories on the contribution of these industries to their respective countries — we don’t.

 
This then scuppers the pitch for the Indian film industry at times like these. It has no option but to depend on individual voices of reason or cower.
 
The Indian film industry needs to be celebrated not just for its glamour but also it resilience. Without state support or any institutional funding it has held its own for over 100 years in a world swamped by Hollywood. If loud nationalism is the currency of the day then the Indian film industry has done a brilliant job; it has kept Indian audiences glued to Indian films — without import quotas, protection or any preferential treatment.

 
Which is why killing the ability of Indian filmmakers to tell the stories that come from this land, freely, is critical. Start cracking down and we will be like Pakistan, which has no film industry to speak of. Or China, which is besotted with Hollywood.
 
Indian cinema has always been a mirror of whatever India is going through. For example the progressive fifties, sixties and early seventies saw some really startling films. It is a wonder they were released. Bimal Roy’s Sujata (1959) tells the story of an untouchable girl brought up by a Brahmin couple. She is never really their daughter till she donates blood for the lady of the house. The idea of a lower-caste girl marrying a Brahmin boy was so unacceptable then that it is a wonder riots didn’t break out. Yash Chopra’s Dharmputra (1961) is the story of a young Hindu boy who becomes a fanatic during Partition and wants to kill Muslims. Till his father points out that he is adopted from Muslim parents. Dharmputra provoked some sloganeering but just like Sujata it won several awards and was encouraged by the governments of a newly independent India.

 
The message was clear — India was to be a progressive country that would shun the dogmas of caste, religion and anything that held it back. That is the general rule of thumb that most governments, since, have followed. There is the rare Paanch (2003) that was never released. Generally all films, good, bad, ugly, found their way to the theatres. Padmavati may be as pointless as Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s earlier Bajirao Mastani (2015) but it still deserves to be screened. After it is cleared by the Central Board of Film Certification the freedom to see it or not lies with the audience.

 
Indian films, good or bad, cater to its maddening diversity of languages, thoughts, belief systems et al. From Naya Daur and Mother India (1957) to Anaarkali of Aarah (2017), Pink (2016) or Bajrangi Bhaijaan (2015) we have always shown the ability to listen to all the voices that make India.
 
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