The new fair narrative of Hindi films

Swati Maheshwari

“A person comes to us with hope. How can I delete hope?” asks Shanoo Sharma, casting director for Yash Raj Films. She receives 200 emails on an average a day from budding actors looking for their big break in the country’s dream factory. She confesses that she cannot bring herself to delete any of the thousands of auditions she has done as that would be akin to killing hope. It is precisely these kind of delightful nuggets and quirks that make this book a lively and interesting read. 

The authors paint an empathetic portrait of women contributing to Bollywood’s new aesthetic sensibilities that suffuse movies like The Lunchbox, October, Piku and Gangs of Wasseypur. The back cover says the book seeks to reflect the record numbers of women working in the industry. Equally important, the increased presence of women has been critical in transforming the look, feel, narratives, melody and sur of one of the world’s largest film industries, as indeed the moviemaking business itself.

Can you imagine Queen’s lilting and haunting song, Kinaare, written by anyone other than a woman?

Kinaare, kaise honge kam

Kinaare hain jahan hain hum

Kinaare khud hi toh hai hum

(I can never drown, I will never run out of shores. Wherever I stand will become the shore. I myself am the ground beneath my feet). Lyricist and dialogue writer Anvita Dutt Guptan reveals how ‘Kinaare’ was born from her own experience of crushing heartbreak and pain.

The book is an ode to these women’s unapologetic ambition, grit and hard work. Most belong to middle class, non-filmi families like independent producer Guneet Monga who didn’t let her lack of connections in Mumbai interfere with her dream of telling stories through movies. Despite failure early on, she has built a daunting reputation by backing original content that has redefined Hindi cinema through films like Masaan and The Lunchbox.

Charu Khurana made history when she fought a battle in the Supreme Court to overturn the law that did not allow women to work as makeup artists. Music director Sneha Khanwalkar rebelled against the formulaic sentimental melodies that have defined Bollywood song and dance for decades. She introduced new every-day sounds and far from perfect voices in her compositions. The result was memorable songs like the risqué ‘I’m a Hunter’ (chorus: She wants to see my gun) in Gangs of Wasseypur. Writer-director Gauri Shinde wowed audiences and boxoffice alike with her assured debut film English Vinglish on a housewife’s journey of self-realisation and emancipation. Outsiders like Shanoo Sharma are democratising the nepotistic industry introducing new talent like Ranveer Singh.  

The profile that stands out is Geeta Tandon’s, country’s foremost stunt female artist. She didn’t allow her circumstance to kill her grit and spirit. Tandon lost her mother at a young age, was married at 15 and faced horrific domestic violence. The feisty woman walked out of her marriage with no money, educational qualifications or support system. Without any means, she was ready to risk her life to bring up her children. Tandon has built a stellar career doing stunts for Bollywood’s leading ladies such as for Deepika Padukone in Chennai Express. Tandon’s is a moving and inspiring journey that could have been fleshed out better while stylist Anaita Shroff Adjania’s may have done with less word length. 

The foreword by director, choreographer Farah Khan seems more than a little self-serving. But these are minor quibbles in an otherwise much needed book that celebrates the spirit and contribution of women changing the cultural narrative of post #MeToo India.