I can recall lots of movies which end with
teary melodrama or long speeches, but can’t remember even one of them which I
loved so much. In fact, Secret Superstar
is beyond love and hate; it brings you – once again – face to face with the reality
of the perversely anti-woman world we live in, where a majority of half the humanity
manage to live their troubled lives quietly, thanks to their abiding faith in
the mantra jhel lenge: I’ll manage my pains, as they know
there’s no escape.
The second dimension of Secret Superstar is
equally significant. As far as I know, no other Indian film ever has talked so
openly and strongly about the sub-human existence of women in the Muslim
society in today’s world. Here I must quickly add two caveats. First, the
Muslim society is no monolith, I personally know several enlightened Muslim
families and also, Muslim women – educated and not-so-educated – who are as
free as the blowing wind. Secondly, it is not about Muslims alone, Harvey
Weinstein, Donald Trump, and Tarun Tejpal are no exceptions, they are visible
threads of a huge and abominable pattern. Having said that, I do believe no major
religious community practises institutionalised misogyny the way the Muslim
society does in the 21st Century. And It works at numerous levels: from Triple
Talaq which was legal until recently, to erudite men preaching the virtues of
the hijab (in the narrower sense of the term meaning a head cover) on their
Facebook wall.
The film deals this somewhat taboo topic boldly
and I wouldn’t be surprised if an imbecilic mullah came out with a fatwa
against its makers.
The story revolves around a woman in her
late thirties, a victim of repeated domestic violence, and her teen-aged
daughter who tries to free her, while simultaneously trying to make it big in
the world, using her natural musical talent and gifted voice. The girl insists
that her mother divorce her father, but in a poignant scene, the older woman
observes that no one ever asked for her
opinion about her own life, neither if she wanted to marry, nor if she
wanted a divorce. The irony cannot be missed.
Moving back to the girl and her ambitions,
the third dimension of the film is about the by-now clichéd “aspirational
India”. Sadly, like many Bollywood movies, this film too glosses over the impossible
odds stacked by a dysfunctional gerontocracy against a young person from an
ordinary background trying to come up in life. Instead, it offers a quick-fix solution
to make the girl an instant superstar. Consequently, it lacks credibility
unlike say, Dangal by the same actor-producer
Aamir Khan, which truthfully chronicles the long and punishing work required
for success on a big stage.
However, if you suspend your disbelief
willingly to create a hypnotic engagement with the characters on screen, you
will see a significant Indian film in Secret
Superstar. It is significant because – I believe – it will create a wider impact
by making Indian Muslims take a hard look at themselves. After all, communities
– like individuals – can reform themselves only from within.
We do not know how we can come out of the
self-defeating bind of growing state-sponsored communal hatred that is tearing India
apart, but it is essential that every religious community shed their baggage
and look at everyone else as just another human being, like the young
protagonist Insiya (Zaira Wasim) and her boyfriend Chintan (Tirth Sharma), who
effortlessly rise above their religious milieu.
If the film helps some of us take a step in
that direction, it will have served a huge social purpose. Let’s hope it will.
Wednesday, 01 November 2017
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