Festivals and Hindi cinema
Every year, as autumn starts paving way for winter, welcoming a litany of celebrations in its wake, the mind involuntarily drifts to a song based on an episode from the ‘Ramayana’. Unlike the epic’s ancient origins however, the song is a modern one, created for a short sequence of Ramlila by the inimitable lyricist-composer duo Javed Akhtar and AR Rahman. Titled ‘Pal pal hai bhaari’, the number appears at a pivotal juncture in Ashutosh Gowariker’s critically acclaimed ‘Swades: We, the People’ (2004), that charts NRI Mohan Bhargava’s return journey to India. Primarily performed onscreen by his lover Geeta (Gayatri Joshi), the song evokes the sadness of Sita waiting for Ram in Ashok Vatika. But just in the middle, it subtly metamorphoses into a plea for spiritual and societal change.
As Sita chastises a defiant Ravan and sings, ‘Ram hirdaya mein hain mere/ Ram hi dhadkan mein hain’ (Ram dwells in my heart and heartbeat), Mohan impromptu adds from the audience, ‘Ram hi toh karuna mein hain/ Shanti mein Ram hain/ Ram hi hai ekta mein/ Pragati mein Ram hai’ (Ram is in compassion, in peace, in unity and in development). He supplements that Ram dwells in the thoughts of both his worshippers and enemies, and indeed, everybody, concluding that ‘Mann se Ravan jo nikale Ram uske mann mein hai’ (Ram resides in the one who has firmly shunned Ravan from his thoughts). As the ditty ends in a zealous burning of Ravan, Kumbhkaran and Megnath’s effigies, it is Mohan’s lines, brilliantly executed by Shah Rukh Khan, that most strongly stay with the viewer. For, not only do they sensitively nudge the audience to expand their understanding of religious imagery, but in doing so, the lyrics also evoke the most crucial elements of all festivals and festivities — transformation and renewal.
It is these elements and their potential endlessness that allow festivals to be frequently appropriated by Hindi cinema for a variety of purposes. In a country where once upon a time, going to the cinemas held a festive appeal about itself, the portrayal of celebrations only enhanced the fervour of filmic experiences. Despite contemporary films’ bourgeoning concern for matters of modern society, festivals continue to be an integral part of them. And in spite of their mythical and folk-based origins, it is their Bollywoodised avatars replete with spirited song-and-dance sequences that people instantly associate with.
Celebrating Holi is thus incomplete without ‘Holi khele Raghuveera’ from ‘Baghban’ (2003) and ‘Balam pichkari’ from ‘Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani’ (2013). The same could be said about garba revelries, whose renditions range from ‘Dholi taro dhol baje’ in ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’ (1999) to ‘Shubhaarambh’ in ‘Kai Po Che’ (2013) and many more.
In their course of offering concentrated crucibles of joy, festivals naturally evolve into occasions for honouring human connections, as well as for announcing the arrival of the new. Who can forget the entry sequence of Shah Rukh Khan’s character Rahul in Karan Johar’s ‘Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham’ (2001) on Diwali, a scene subject to countless memes ever since? A tangential nod to Ram’s return to his home turf, the scene uniquely consecrates the mother-son relationship like few others, with Jaya Bachchan’s character holding the classic ‘aarti ki thali’ by way of welcome. Likewise, the grown-up Vijay, the lead hero of Karan Malhotra’s ‘Agneepath’ (2012) played by Hrithik Roshan, also receives his onscreen entry via the ‘dahi handi’ event associated with Krishna Janmashtami.
Another Vijay, yet again played by Shah Rukh Khan, marks his introduction in Farhan Akhtar’s ‘Don: The Chase Begins Again’ (2006) through the festival of Ganesh Chaturthi. In these and similar tracks, a rapturous riot of colour and crowds injects an infectious atmosphere of camaraderie, often ending on triumphant-yet-humbling notes. Moreover, the flurry of background revellers immersed in the pulse of celebration naturally intensifies the hero’s stardom, influencing the viewers’ relationship to the screen in uplifting ways.
Given Hindi cinema’s historic ties to Mumbai as its birth city, and given Mumbai’s liaison with crime and crisis, the depiction of the region’s festivals, especially Ganesh Chaturthi, ineluctably elicits an insertion of violence. Towards the end of Ram Gopal Varma’s ‘Satya’ (1998), a film that changed the course of Hindi cinema with its realistic depiction of the underworld, it is during Ganesh Chaturthi that the titular character kills Bhau, a cruel politician-cum-former gang leader. In Raj and DK’s multi-narrative ‘Shor in the City’ (2011), the chaotic life of Mumbai’s characters gets amplified by the bourgeoning frenzy around Chaturthi, with explicit violence again marking the finale represented by Ganesh Visarjan. On the other hand, Remo D’Souza’s 2013 dance-drama ‘ABCD: Anybody Can Dance’ alludes to Ganesh puja as an inspiration for the film’s closing choreographic sequence, whose heartfelt, thumping performance serves the aim of healing frictions between rival dance groups.
Several other films creatively experiment with the performative dynamics of festivals to brilliant effect. The conclusion of Sujoy Ghosh’s 2012 thriller ‘Kahaani’, for instance, shows the key protagonist Vidya Bagchi (Vidya Balan) draped in a traditional white-and-red-bordered Bengali sari, that lets her seamlessly blend in a crowd of similarly dressed women during the culmination of Durga Puja. It is Vidya’s absorption within the larger multitudes that allows her to maintain enigma as a character, and also lets her escape her pursuers. In Vipul Shah’s ‘Aankhen’ (2002), the protagonist Vijay Singh Rajpoot (Amitabh Bachchan) develops the idea of robbing a bank with the support of blind people after witnessing a group of visually-challenged students expertly involved in the formation of a human pyramid during the ritual breaking of ‘dahi handi’.
And in Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s ‘Delhi-6’ (2009), arguably the most symbolically loaded film of Bollywood inspired in part by the ‘Ramayana’, the entire present-day narrative cleverly unfurls as a mirroring of the ongoing episodes of Ramlila in the grounds of old Delhi. Its richly referenced story intelligently fuses together the stage’s theatricality with the screen’s melodrama in the context of Navratri, whilst simultaneously providing a robust social critique against religious bigotry.
But were one to single out a director who is most consistently inspired by the vivacity and abundance of festive vocabulary, it would be Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Bhansali repeatedly returns to the ethos of celebration in film after film, creating his larger-than-life canvases of ecstasy and grandeur with a meticulous attention to detail. One would imagine that after directing the iconic ‘Dholi taro dhol baje’ in his second film, he would refrain from repeating another garba piece. But when we witness the popularity of ditties such as ‘Lahu munh lag gaya’, ‘Nagada sang dhol’, ‘Jhume gori’ or ‘Dholida’, it gets doubtlessly proven that cinema in the hands of a master filmmaker can never truly exhaust its allegiance to festivals. In other words, as Bhansali realises, festivals are ever-giving in terms of imagination. But for all their apparent beauty, a deeper look at Bhansali’s portrayals often reveals an undercurrent of contradictions, as tension and cohesion are artistically brought into play through numerous permutations and combinations.
When Alia Bhatt’s eponymous heroine swirls to the beats of ‘Dholida’ in Bhansali’s ‘Gangubai Kathiawadi’ (2022), she processes her pent-up anger at being rejected from her family members, and embodies the whole gamut of emotions, from delight to deprivation. Just before this celebration, as she prepares for the event with her co-workers in the red-light area, she decides that the garba performance would remain an all-women affair, barred for men, as at least for one night their bodies would be truly and only theirs.
Such spirit of resistance infuses Bhansali’s 2018 ‘Padmaavat’, too, where, upon being laid siege to by the army of Alauddin Khilji, the ruler of Chittor instructs his minister to celebrate Diwali like never before. As Maharawal Ratan Singh states, “Iss baar Chittor Diwali aise dhoom dhaam se manaaye ki aadhi ladaai vo humaari khushi dekh kar hi haar jaaye,” (This time Chittor should celebrate Diwali with such gusto that Alauddin is forced to concede half the defeat merely through witnessing our joy).
Joy is what comes to the aid of Paro as well, when, in ‘Devdas’ (2002), she invites Chandramukhi to her in-laws’ home for celebrating Durga Puja. Allaying the latter’s anxiety at entering a well-respected, ‘high-class’ home (Chandramukhi being a courtesan), Paro insists that it is through mutual singing and dancing that they would be better able to appreciate the occasion, and indeed, their love for Devdas. Interestingly, the resultant song ‘Dola re dola’ receives a tribute in Karan Johar’s ‘Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani’ (2023), where it is two men, an unlikely pair of a future father-in-law and son-in-law, who perform a Durga Puja dance, triggering another kind of subversion of gender dynamics.
Like the crisis-infused celebrations of Ganesh Chaturthi, Bhansali’s 2013 ‘Ram Leela’ also unfolds in the backdrop of violence and festivities, with the titular lovers meeting for the first time during Holi and dying together towards the end during Dasehra. What is even more significant in the director’s oeuvre is his celebration of festivities belonging to other faiths with equal passion. Both ‘Saawariya’ (2007) and ‘Gangubai’, for instance, generously depict the festival of Eid, bringing together Hindu and Muslim characters in warm, affectionate relationships. Interestingly, religion itself offers no friction whatsoever in the two films. And in ‘Bajirao Mastani’ (2015), the song ‘Aayat’ wistfully expresses the love of the Hindu Bajirao for the Muslim Mastani, by alluding to Eid again: ‘Tere ishq ki mere dil mein/ Kayi Eid mann gayi hai’ (My heart has celebrated your love in the form of many Eids).
In a recent interview with critic Anupama Chopra, Bhansali observed that “art should be created out of loneliness, yes, out of angst, yes, but [also] out of great joy”. It is this joy and its myriad manifestations in the form of festivals and films that truly constitutes and captures our collective identity as Indians: something that must be cherished and passed on for all times to come.
— The writer is a historian, artist and cultural critic from Shimla
