The opening scene of Mr and Mrs Iyer (2002) comes as a shock to the
seasoned Bollywood enthusiast. A montage of news reports flickers across the
screen. Images from 9/11, the murder in Pakistan of American journalist Daniel
Pearl and sectarian violence in Gujarat confronts the unsuspecting viewer.
This is not the type of Indian film I am used to. No singing, no dancing, no
heroes or heroines. It's a love story nonetheless, but without the trappings of
a crowd-pleasing, sing-along romance. Mr and Mrs. Iyer, directed by
Aparna Sen, tells the story of two acquaintances, Meenakshi Iyer, a Hindu
woman, and Raja
Chowdhury, a Muslim man, who find themselves caught in a flare-up between Hindu
and Muslim extremists while traveling by bus to Kolkata.
Interacting with a Muslim is anathema to Meenakhsi, who comes from a
conservative Brahmin family. But when a Hindu mob enters the bus and begins
looking for Muslim passengers to beat up, she unexpectedly hands her young son
over to Raja and passes him off as her husband. Amid curfew and communal riots,
Meenakshi and Raja continue their journey as Mr and Mrs Iyer and come to
understand each other's views along the way. They find comfort in each other
while savage acts of human intolerance occur all around them.
Mr and Mrs Iyer came on the heels of a series of massive communal riots
in Gujarat, where more than a thousand people, both Hindus and Muslims, were
killed in February and March 2002. Moreover, it is part of a shift in the
content and consciousness of popular Hindi language cinema, better known as
Bollywood.
While Bollywood films have traditionally focused on themes of nationalism,
Hindu mythology and peasant and working-class life, recent films are
increasingly addressing issues of communal violence and religious intolerance.
Such topics barely surfaced in popular cinema of the preceding decades. But in
the past 10 years, Indian films have begun to explore harsher realities and
confront their audiences with tougher questions. They have played a diplomatic
role as well, mediating relations between India and Pakistan outside of the
political realm.
The birth of Bollywood
Though the first mass-produced Indian films appeared in the 1930s and the
industry reached its "Golden Age" in the decades immediately following Indian
independence in 1947, the term "Bollywood" did not appear until the 1970s.
Bollywood gets its name from Bombay, renamed Mumbai in 1995, where the films
are produced. Today, it is a thriving industry that turns out 150 to 200 films
per year. It is not India's only film industry, though. India is the largest
producer of feature films in the world, of which Tamil and Telugu language
films make up a large part. In fact, Hindi films make up just 20% of the
national industry. However, they bring in close to 50% of the revenues.
The Hindi film industry began to grow in Mumbai after the partition of India
and Pakistan in 1947, which divided the Bengali film industry based in Kolkata
and the Punjabi film industry based in Lahore along with their respective
audiences. Mumbai enjoyed an influx of prominent actors, producers, directors,
lyricists and technicians from these weakening industries in Pakistan. As a
result, the Mumbai film industry became religiously integrated at a time when
the rest of the region was unraveling along religious lines. Some of the most
famous male actors today, including Shahrukh Khan and Aamir Khan, are Muslim,
as are the renowned scriptwriter Javed Akhtar and music director A R Rahman.
According to anthropologist and film scholar Tejaswini Ganti, Bollywood is
"perhaps the least religiously segregated place in India today".
The typical Bollywood movie involves a love affair, a large and meddlesome
family, a lavish wedding and a happy ending, all accompanied by song and dance.
These films are often infused with religious imagery, usually Hindu, and tend
to avoid inter-religious plotlines altogether. It seems odd that an industry
with significant Muslim representation would only recently turn to sensitive
themes of inter-communal relations.
As it turns out, Bollywood was not always a friendly place for Muslims.
Throughout the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s, Muslims were thought to harbor
anti-Hindu agendas and threaten the film industry as a whole. Some of the most
recognized actors and actresses of the time chose to suppress their religious
identity by adopting Hindu screen names. Yusuf Khan became Dilip Kumar,
Mahjabeen Bano became Meena Kumari and Mumtaz Jehan Begum Dehlavi became
Madhubala.
Today, the Khans - Aamir, Saif, Shahrukh and Salman - dominate the industry
without having to hide their Muslim identities. In this respect, Bollywood as
an institution has evolved considerably in the last 40 years. It is only
fitting that its films follow suit.
Revisiting India's past Jodhaa-Akbar (2008), directed by Ashutosh Gowariker, is one of
Bollywood's latest efforts to grapple with deep-seated communal issues. By
going centuries back into history, the film helps to reshape the discourse on
what it means to be Indian.
Set in the 16th century, the film tells the story of the great Mughal Emperor
Akbar and his marriage to the Rajput princess Jodhaa. What begins as a
political alliance between Muslim and Hindu rulers slowly blossoms into a
tantalizing romance, complete with elaborate costumes and a remarkably hum-able
score.
From Alfred Lord Tennyson's 19th century poem, "Akbar's Dream" to Salman
Rushdie's latest novel The Enchantress of Florence, Akbar has been
featured widely in popular literature. The story of his marriage to Jodhaa was
first popularized in the 1960 Bollywood blockbuster, Mughal-e-Azam.
However, while Mughal-e-Azam ignores the communal theme altogether,
focusing instead on Akbar's son Salim and his love affair with a court dancer
Anarkali, Jodhaa-Akbar consciously tackles religious differences. Akbar,
depicted as an enlightened and reasonable emperor, confronts intolerance from
Muslim and Hindu groups alike and, through the influence of his wife, becomes a
more benevolent ruler. Jodhaa and Akbar come to love each other, even as their
families and communities continue fighting. Their relationship, a social taboo
at the time and, in many cases, even today, underscores the importance of
mutual respect and understanding in the face of unsubstantiated hatred.
The film made headlines when its release sparked controversy among many Rajput
communities in northern and central India. The Rajasthani state government
immediately banned the movie in 30 theaters. Historians and incensed viewers
alike questioned the accuracy of Gowariker's storyline. Some claimed that
Jodhaa did not really exist since the Mughal documents of the period never
mention her name. Others argued that she did exist, but she was called Mariam
Zamani by the court biographers. Still others believe that she was married to
Akbar's son, and misrepresenting her as Akbar's wife rather than his
daughter-in-law was unacceptable. In short order, Gowariker's imaginative and
finely crafted message of tolerance was reduced to a public debate over
seemingly petty details.
This focus on trivialities is revealing of a societal inability to address and
discuss sensitive issues. The misguided backlash against the film indicates
that the topic of communal relationships strikes a controversial chord with
many and that identity is deeply tied to religion and perceptions of history.
Indeed, inter-communal marriages are not widely accepted in India, though they
have become more common in the last few decades. Bollywood, in particular, is
teeming with famous Hindu-Muslim couples, and Jodhaa-Akbar's own star, Hrithik
Roshan, is married to a Muslim woman. However, hard data on marriages between
Hindus and Muslims is difficult to come by as there has been no concerted
effort to quantify the phenomenon on a national scale.
Often, studies of inter-communal marriages cover marriages between Hindus of
different castes as well as between Hindus and non-Hindus, so the resulting
data is cluttered. In many cases "love marriages", those not arranged by family
members and therefore more likely to be inter-communal in nature, meet with
significant resistance from family and community members.
The phenomenon is controversial in the public sphere as well. The minister of
the state of Maharashtra, of which Mumbai is the largest city, was recently
accused of authorizing a criminal investigation into love affairs resulting in
marriages between Muslim boys and Hindu girls. This decision came after members
of the Bharatiya Janata Party, a right-wing nationalist group, alleged that
Muslim boys were conspiring to undermine Hindu communities by wooing girls and
shipping them to the Gulf Coast.
Nitin Raut, the minister in question, later denied that any such probe would
take place and urged his government against communalizing state politics.
Despite Raut's rhetorical Band-Aid, communal tensions clearly run deep in many
parts of India, even in Bollywood's home state.
Consequently, the messages of tolerance, mutual understanding and respect that
films like Jodhaa-Akbar deliver are a necessary step in mending the deep wounds
of communal animosity.
Filming modernity
While Jodhaa-Akbar takes viewers 500 years into the past, Rakeysh
Omprakash Mehra's Delhi-6 pulls them back into the 21st century.
Released in 2009, the film is Bollywood's latest attempt at making tolerance
popular.
Heartthrob Abhishek Bachchan stars as Roshan, the son of a Muslim mother and a
Hindu father, who comes to Delhi for the first time as an adult and witnesses
the violent breakdown of his grandmother's neighborhood along communal lines.
The film is set in the historic Chandni Chowk area, home to a religiously and
culturally diverse community. In returning to his roots, Roshan confronts an
India that is more modern than he thought, yet still governed by deep-seated
religious tensions.
Where Hindus and Muslims lived and worked together in peace, an elusive
troublemaker known as Kala Bandar ("The Black Monkey") and a series of small
misunderstandings pit neighbors against each other in violent riots. In the
end, Roshan, the hybrid, takes the biggest hit.
The film weaves together Mehra's own experiences growing up in the Chandni
Chowk neighborhood with the urban legend of a monkey man who reportedly
terrorized the streets of Delhi in 2001. Released just three months after the
Mumbai terror attacks, Delhi-6 was a timely meditation on contemporary
Hindu-Muslim relations in India. Since the November attacks, purportedly
carried out by the Pakistan-based militant group Lashkar-e-Taiba, the threat of
sectarian violence has been high. Many fear that Hindu and Muslim groups in
Mumbai and throughout India will exploit mutual suspicion and renewed communal
hostility for their own political and religious ends.
Ultimately, Delhi-6 gives viewers a multifaceted portrait of urban India
and, at the same time, highlights the fault-lines that make it so vulnerable.
It represents a new type of Bollywood film, one that still strives to entertain
but is unafraid to expose society in its most brutal and hypocritical forms.
The film received mixed reviews from moviegoers. Some felt Mehra's film
presented a "half-baked collage of many vital social issues", while others
commended his efforts at capturing the complexities of the "modern Indian
soul". Even if the plot left viewers dissatisfied, the message rang loud and
clear: We must look within ourselves before pointing the finger at others. In a
country where Hindus and Muslims have been pointing fingers at each other for
hundreds of years, Delhi-6 gives the hackneyed appeal for tolerance a
fresh face.
The diplomacy of film
Hugely successful in North America and the United Kingdom, recent Bollywood
films have crossed physical as well as social boundaries. They have regularly
traversed literal and figurative borders that people could not. Such is the
case with Pakistan, where Bollywood is a fixture despite the Pakistani
government's formal ban.
For much of their 62-year history, India and Pakistan have been uneasy
neighbors. Since partition, their shared border of over 2,900 kilometers has
been highly regulated through a single crossing point that connects Lahore to
Amritsar. Air travel has also been highly regulated, particularly in 2001 when
India imposed travel sanctions on Pakistan International Airlines, banning it
from entering Indian airspace.
Cultural exchange, too, has been formally if not effectively restricted.
Following the India-Pakistan war of 1965, the Pakistani government imposed a
ban on the distribution and broadcast of Indian films in movie theaters across
the country. Despite these efforts, the availability of pirated films has
skyrocketed, and Bollywood films have become a mainstay of Pakistani pop
culture.
Recently, film has taken on a diplomatic role between these two stubborn
neighbors. In 2008, the critically acclaimed Khuda Kay Liye ("In the
Name of God") became the first Pakistani film to be released in India in 43
years. The film, which broke box-office records in Pakistan, gave Indians a
long overdue look into Pakistani life, which they were surprised to learn is
not so different from their own.
According to the film's director, Shoaib Mansoor, his Indian colleagues had
astonishingly little understanding of life in Pakistan: "They asked: 'Do you
have taxis there?' 'Can women drive?' 'Are women allowed to go to university?'
They thought Pakistan consisted entirely of fanatics and mullahs."
Khuda Kay Liye narrates the stories of two musician brothers growing up
in Lahore, whose different interpretations of Islam lead them along radically
different paths. While one falls under the extremist influence of a mullah and
fights alongside the Taliban, the other moves to Chicago to study music,
marries an American woman and must navigate the difficulties of being a Muslim
in America after 9/11. Though this film's message of tolerance does not have
direct communal undertones, it has nevertheless promoted greater understanding
of Muslim communities within India and in neighboring Pakistan.
"Ignorance breeds suspicion and suspicion breeds hate; it creates huge
villains," said Bollywood scriptwriter Javed Akhtar in response to the film.
"There is a lot to be heard and seen by Indian and by US audiences here too."
Looking forward
Over the past 10 years, there has been a noticeable shift in the content and
consciousness of Bollywood films. On the surface, it is still unthinkable to
produce a Hindi film without any song, dance or romance. On a deeper level, the
industry is addressing sensitive social issues that have been largely ignored
for decades.
Today's Bollywood operates along increasingly inter-communal and international
axes. Whether by recognizing differences and encouraging viewers to overcome
them or by highlighting underlying similarities between religious and cultural
groups in India and neighboring Pakistan, Bollywood films have finally begun to
address the social tensions that have been ever-present in India's history and
remain salient today.
However, this trend is nascent at best. Nationalistic, slash-and-burn films are
still popular, as are crowd-pleasing action movies and cheesy romantic
comedies. The Bollywood I've grown up with, sung and danced with, isn't going
anywhere. But a handful of filmmakers are using the industry's popular appeal
to spread a powerful message of tolerance that politics has yet been unable to
champion.
Two upcoming films will serve as a test of this hypothesis. My Name is Khan
and Total Ten are both potentially controversial Bollywood productions
set for release in 2010. The first film, starring Bollywood's leading man
Shahrukh Khan, will examine the experiences of a Muslim man from India living
in the United States. Though the film is not explicitly about 9/11, it will
inevitably explore what it means to be Muslim in America in the wake of these
terrorist attacks.
Ironically, Khan already hit some bumps in the road on his own journey to the
United States in August. He was detained for questioning at Newark Airport when
his name was flagged for an extra security check. The actor, arguably the most
famous and influential in India, was released after an intervention by the
Indian Embassy. The incident angered fans and the Indian government alike. It
has only bolstered the perception among Indians that the United States espouses
an "Islamophobic" attitude. Despite this hiccup, My Name is Khan may
still do for US-India relations what Khuda Kay Liye has done for
India-Pakistan relations.
Total Ten, on the other hand, has the potential to do more harm than
good. The film chronicles the events of the November 26 terrorist attacks in
Mumbai through the character of Mohammad Ajmal Amir Kasab, the only gunman
captured in connection with the attacks. While Kasab's trial is currently
underway, Bollywood has wasted no time in bringing this incident to the big
screen. The film, which is expected to hit theaters prior to the completion of
the trial, delivers its own verdict in the case: Kasab is hanged. A Pakistani
citizen, Kasab has been the subject of much controversy and speculation on both
sides of the border, and preempting his sentence through film is not likely to
go over well.
Ultimately, Bollywood is proving itself to be ahead of the curve both
politically and socially. It has pushed viewers to address issues of communal
relations and religious intolerance within India. It has taken on a diplomatic
role in the absence of government initiative, particularly with respect to
neighboring Pakistan. It has taken risks that its American counterpart would
never dream of. In a country where nearly 40% of the population is illiterate,
Bollywood has asserted itself as a popular vehicle for discussion, reflection,
and social change.
Noor Iqbal is a former intern at Foreign Policy In Focus.
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