Jallianwala revisited, but gaps remain

Jallianwala Bagh is an emotion — an emotion so strong that even after more than a century, it keeps finding its way to the silver screen. We last saw this emotion come alive in Shoojit Sircar’s ‘Sardar Udham’, where one of the most tragic chapters of Indian history was recreated with careful and diligent detail. Now, we have director Ram Madhvani going beyond the massacre and reconstructing a chain of events to prove the colonial conspiracy behind it. The word ‘sajish’ on a blood-stained pamphlet hammers this point over and over again throughout this six-episode series.

Madhvani’s take on the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, where Col Reginald Dyer (Alex Reece) ordered his troops to fire at the protesters, who were peacefully demonstrating against the draconian Rowlatt Act, is presented as a courtroom drama. It is a fresh perspective as far as theories go.

The series oscillates between two tracks. The bond and bonhomie among the four lead characters —Kantilal Sahni (Taaruk Raina), the London-returned lawyer who is saddled with a secret; Hari Singh Aulakh (Bhawsheel Singh) and his wife Poonam (Nikita Dutta), supporters of Gandhiji’s call for non-violence; and Allahbaksh (Sahil Mehta), the editor of a newspaper — form the first track. The second involves the aftermath of the massacre: the Hunter Commission inquiry. As part of it, main protagonist Kantilal gets to cross-examine Dyer during the trial.

The series also runs through different timelines. Bound by an unbreakable childhood bond, Kantilal and Allahbaksh share a volatile relationship, while Hari and Poonam play the pacifiers. We see Kantilal transform from a suited-booted loyal subject of the British Empire to a dhoti-kurta-clad lawyer seeking justice for his people, his land. He takes it upon himself to answer the questions as to what led to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, what sinister plans the British devised to counter Gandhiji’s Satyagraha, how did the massacre happen, and the aftermath of it, even at the cost of braving a few flying bullets in his direction.

While Madhvani marries history with drama and action to highlight the deceit and inhumane tactics of the Raj (thankfully, there are no caricaturish British characters), he uses his Hindu-Muslim-Sikh characters and a liberal dose of Kabir’s dohas to make a statement on the religious harmony that prevailed in the country during that period.

And talking about the period, Madhvani reconstructs the era with meticulous detailing. The narrow lanes, the cramped buildings and the bustling markets take us back to the Amritsar of the 1900s; it’s a visual delight. His vision is in perfect sync with cinematographer Kavya Sharma’s handling of the camera. Together, they manage to capture the intensity of the historical chapter.

It’s a historical chapter which does not feel like a history lesson. And that’s good and disappointing in equal measure. Madhvani directs his entire creative energy on the conspiracy angle, going after the former Lieutenant Governor of Punjab, Michael O’Dwyer (Paul McEwan), the ringmaster of the conspiracy.

He takes notes of the massacre in passing, mostly in references and a few oblique scenes, and that robs the series of its gravitas. Taaruk does a sincere job as he struggles with his inner conflicts, someone who is demonised by his own and the British alike, only to rise again to deal with the final blow against the mighty empire. At times, though, his long and dramatic monologues in the courtroom get in the way.

His intention may be noble, but Madhvani has Bollywoodised a serious trial. In fact, the climax, that involves a clever manipulation on Kantilal’s part, too, is Bollywoodish.

Another area where ‘The Waking of a Nation’ falters is the repeated use of the same flashback scenes. This back-and-white footage lends authenticity to the narrative, but its repetition feels more like a space-filling exercise. This is inexcusable for a director of Madhvani’s calibre.

Wish he had invested more on the track of Kantilal, Hari, Poonam and Allahbaksh’s bonding. They nail the dialects and their mannerisms, making their characters belong to that period. That said, several heart-wrenching moments involving the four, like Poonam losing her husband or Kantilal burying Allahbaksh, just come and go without leaving much impact.

Madhvani’s reimagined piece of history could have benefitted from some emotional padding.