2 COUNTS ON WHICH AMAZON PRIME’S DAHAAD WON AT SHOWING CASTE—AND 1 WHERE IT UTTERLY FAILED

Over the last decade, anti-caste scholars and activists have put forward strenuous criticisms of Hindi cinema. It started impacting the fate of movies early on — the success of 2016 films such as Sairat and Kabali and the 2019 movie Asuran in North India shows that. And Hindi cinema seems to have gradually learnt from such criticism, the recently released Amazon Prime Video web series Dahaad has not only been attracting huge public attention for its anti-caste dialogues but is also being hailed for the “birth of strong Dalit feminist heroes”.

I examine the extent to which the thriller web series has remained faithful to the tenets of caste depiction. To do this, I investigate the foundational premises of anti-caste critiques of Hindi cinema and give suitable contemporary examples.

Also read: Reema Kagti’s Dahaad is a powerful portrait of caste oppression in small towns

The 3 concerns of caste depiction

Anti-caste criticism in Hindi cinema is broadly based on three grounds — content, representation, and the existence of ‘casteless saviour complex’.

The first primarily involves how producers or filmmakers showcase a casteist society and its ill effects — or blame external forces such as the British and Mughals for it.

The issue of representation involves whether actors from lowered castes play the lead roles and if they’re discriminated against in the film industry. During an interview on NDTV, I asked Amitabh Bachchan and Prakash Jha, who were promoting their movie Aarakshan (2011), whether the film talks about the aarakshan (which means reservation) in Bollywood—for the Kapoors and Bachchans—just the way caste system works in India. They did not provide a satisfactory answer. This issue further involves misrepresenting and appropriating characters belonging to lowered castes. Why are domestic workers often named Ramu Kaka and Dalit characters given derogatory names? Think of Kachra, which literally means garbage, from Ashutosh Gowariker’s 2001 movie Lagaan. The poster of Madam Chief Minister (2021) showing Richa Chadha in a beaten down avatar, holding a broom — the symbol of Savarna oppression — is the most recent example of misrepresentation of lowered castes. The poster was later withdrawn after public outrage, and Chadha issued an apology.

Misrepresentation also involves importing stories of the oppressed from around the world and simply replacing characters with Dalit figures. That is what the 2021 web series Tandav did.

Finally, Hindi cinema is also criticised for showcasing the disease of Savarna saviour complex. Such critique has been levelled at director Anubhav Sinha, who has been accused of misrepresenting the caste system. The lead character of Sinha’s Article 15 (2019), played by Ayushmann Khurrana, is shown as a Brahmin male who is the ‘saviour’ of Dalits. Such a portrayal denies agency to Dalits “who have been waging a relentless struggle against caste system for ages with their sweat and blood”, wrote Dilip Mandal in ThePrint.

Also read: Rajinikanth to Dhanush, how Tamil stars have portrayed politics of ‘freebies’

The Dahaad scorecard

Dahaad addresses a few concerns of critics. While the web series is about a serial killer (Anand Swarnkar, played by Vijay Varma) preying on women looking for marriage under family pressure, it also addresses religion, caste, and gender. Anand targets only lowered caste women, whose murders remain sidelined for a long time due to the institutional apathy of the police. The crimes are unearthed only by Dalit investigating officer Anjali Bhati (Sonakshi Sinha), whose own life experiences help her to solve the mystery of the murders. Accurate representation of lowered castes in Hindi cinema is still a distant dream, but Anjali’s character takes a good crack at it — she’s shown as a bold officer who can make independent decisions. It is inspired by the pro-reservation argument, which says that the inclusion of caste and gender through affirmative action policy strengthens institutions by making them more responsive toward marginalised communities.

Despite a strong female Dalit lead, Dahaad isn’t entirely free of the Savarna saviour complex. Bhati is often accompanied by SHO Devi Lal Singh (Gulshan Devaiah) who does not believe in caste hierarchy but is her ‘protector’ nonetheless. It is another matter that Devaiah has a naturally non-dominating personality, which makes him less overshadowing on screen.

The idea of the lost Dalit agency is addressed when Anjali goes to the registrar’s office to change her last name to Meghwal. Anjali’s father gave her the title Bhati, a surname mostly used among Rajputs and Gurjars in Rajasthan, to ensure she isn’t discriminated against. This is a common practice in North India where lowered castes, particularly Dalits living in cities, change their surnames to avoid discrimination in personal and professional spaces.

However, such a strategy doesn’t shield lowered castes. Moreover, it creates a permanent psychological fear in the community. In Dahaad, Anjali is prevented from entering the house of Thakurs and Swarankars for conducting investigation. At the latter’s house, though, she barges in, stating: “Kaun unch kaun neech, ye tere pushton ka time nahi hai, sanvidhaan ka time hai, kayde kanoon ka time hai (Who is forward, who is backward; this isn’t the time of your forefathers; it is the time of the Constitution, it is the time of the law).” Although this dialogue carries a powerful anti-caste and anti-untouchability message, it gets delivered at the door of Swarnkar who are backward castes rather than upper caste rajput family. In the end, Anjali regains her autonomy and reclaims Dalit dignity only by reverting to her original surname.

A flat depiction of intersectionality

Dahaad also shows how religion intersects with gender and caste. It comes out best in a scene where a Rajput woman falls in love with a Muslim man and the couple elopes. Their story gets politicised by Right-wing elites. This subplot casts a sideways glance at the heated debates over love jihad in the country.

The depiction of gender dynamics is the aspect in which Dahaad is utterly lacking. Women are set up against each other. A big lacuna of the web series, it uncritically simplifies social dynamics, perhaps inspired by the idea that patriarchy affects all women in the same way. For example, all the mother figures in the series share the same concern — to somehow get their daughters married. Discouraging daughters to pursue higher studies and gaining autonomy is a priority of these women. Mothers of missing girls are least bothered about their eloped daughters’ safety. And hence, they are all shown as enemies of women’s cause.

SHO Devi Lal Singh, Anjali’s late father, and Murli (Yogi Singha), the brother of one of the victims, stand out as allies for the women’s cause. The SHO fights his wife to send their daughter on a school trip so she could experience the outside world and even encourages his daughter to study hard and become independent. Anjali’s father, too, helped her study and become successful; Murli defies his mother and lodges a complaint about his missing sister.

Dalit women experience patriarchy differently. The producers could have explored it by showing the changes in Anjali’s mother’s experiences over time—how she faced less discrimination when her daughter became a police officer and how Anjali improved her economic well-being. Such relief is usually seen to bring attitude changes among lowered castes.

Despite its shortcomings, Dahaad can be commended for attempting to show caste more faithfully than previous Hindi movies and shows and for learning from criticism. Hindi cinema directors, take a cue.

Arvind Kumar, PhD Scholar at Department of Politics, IRs and Philosophy; and Visiting Tutor at Department of Law and Criminology, Royal Holloway, University of London. Associate Fellow of Higher Education Academy, United Kingdom. Views are personal.

(Edited by Humra Laeeq)

2023-05-31T05:28:51Z dg43tfdfdgfd