While the brave Rajput warriors of the Karni Sena were attacking filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali for shooting a film that could be showing Queen Padmavati in a poor light – they hadn’t read the script, this was all guess work – Ajaykumar Waghmare, a lawyer in Mumbai was fighting to get the title of the film Jolly LLB 2 changed. He has nothing against the Jolly part of it — they wanted the LLB to be removed from the film’s title because it is a “deliberate attempt to malign the Indian legal profession.”
Since lawyers do not normally indulge in violence, barring an incident or two such as in Delhi’s courts when they beat up Kanhaiya Kumar, How exactly does the title, which merely indicates legal qualifications, mock anyone, let alone an entire profession? Waghmare doesn’t say but he has filed a case anyway. He says the trailer shows “many funny antics and behaviours in the court premises that may tarnish the dignity of the Indian legal profession and judiciary.”
He well may have taken his cue from an earlier instance when various hairdressers, salon and beauty parlour associations in Mumbai had objected to the name of Shahrukh Khan’s film Billu Barber; the name was quickly changed to Billu.
In all these cases, the sense of grievance is predicated on an imagined insult. The Karni Sena has not read the script, but has worked itself into a violent lather purely on speculation. It is as if they are convinced that any rendition of Rani Padmavati – whose deeds of sacrifice were first celebrated in a poem by Malik Muhammad Jayasi almost five centuries ago and who may well not be a real person – would damage her pristine reputation and thus besmirch the honour of not just Rajputs but also Rajput women, which the men are duty bound to protect. They also think any song and dance will humanise Alauddin Khilji, the mass murderer; why is Bhansali “tampering with history”?
There are several ways to address this argument, the most fundamental one being that the purpose of art is to interpret reality, but that may be too subtle for these warriors. The simpler way is to condemn them for violence — why not present your side of the story calmly and peacefully instead of damaging equipment and beating up directors? (And now a compromise has been reached between Bhansali and the Sena— what was the need for all this senseless destruction?)
Deepika Padukone, the lead actor in the film, chose to take a third tack: she said she was “shocked and disheartened at the violence” and declared, “as Padmavati I can assure you that there is absolutely no distortion of history.” She could well have added-“otherwise I would never have accepted this role.” In other words, had there been any distortion, the violence could have been justified.
Perhaps her PR team advised her to go with this, perhaps that is how her mind works. But what if she had said, “I condemn the violence against our unit. Artists should be allowed to interpret fable, legend and history in their own way. If you don’t like it, please don’t see the movie.”
At least Deepika, who is associated with the movie, said something publicly. The stalwarts of the Bollywood film industry have, as is now normal, kept mum. Barring a handful – Anurag Kashyap, Karan Johar, Hrithik Roshan, a fiery Pahlaj Nihalani and a few outspoken youngsters – there has been a resounding silence from Bhansali’s peers. Anupam Kher called the attack ‘unfortunate and shameful’ but qualified it by also saying that giving it a ‘communal angel’ was equally shameful. The Film Producers Guild issued a statement calling the attack “unfortunate, deplorable and totally unacceptable”. Of the big names of the industry, whose word would make a difference, there was no sign. Even those who had acted with Bhansali in many successful films have preferred to keep quiet, at least publicly, rather than issue any kind of statement, much less condemnation.
The industry has now completely internalised the idea that it must not say anything remotely ‘controversial’ because that can have consequences. Talk to them privately and they will point to the troll attack, allegedly supported by the BJP’s info cell, on the consequences Aamir Khan had to face.
In the collective mind of the film industry, it’s best to keep one’s head as low as possible. Forget larger social issues, even when the matter directly concerns the well being and smooth functioning of the industry itself, there is a resounding silence from those who otherwise have full-fledged PR outfits to control every aspect of their image. It is as if they read no newspapers, watch no television and are completely insulated from the real world.
The industry has watched silently, from its cocoon, the growing instances of pressure, blackmail and outright violence against high profile names. Each transgression has been at a higher pitch than the previous one — Karan Johar succumbing to extortion, with a ‘compromise’ under the benign eye of the chief minister of Maharashtra, Shahrukh Khan buying insurance by visiting Raj Thackeray before his film Raees was released and now violence against one of the most high profile and successful directors in the business. Not once has there been any high-decibel outrage or a refusal to succumb to such tactics. Not once has anyone said enough is enough. Naturally, a joint front against such threats is out of question. This kind of pusillanimity encourages not just the Karni Senas but also the Waghmares of this world — they know that they can hit a director in full public view or file a suit and the victim will just capitulate.
In his tweet, Farhan Akhtar appealed to his peers that if they did not all unite now, “it’s going to get much worse.” Sadly, he is right.
The author is a Founding Editor of The Wire.
He is a journalist and writer based in Mumbai
