4- 22- 16 Om Shanti Om

Om Shanti Om (OSO) was perhaps the most wild ride of a film thus far and particularly interesting because of its self-reflexivity as Om Prakash and OK are constantly parodying the most common tropes in the biggest Bollywood films as well as various Western tropes and as Sudha Shastri notes the “nostalgic recall of 1970s Bollywood is fond, but its implied comment on the genre of films that seem to qualify for awards is definitely sardonic.” While parodying these tropes, the film is being highly critical of these very elements, particularly with male-star favoritism and the mostly progression of further lack of originality and creation of, as Patrick says, “vapid movie stars.”

OSO has two distinct halves to the story of the film and with those two halves there is a particularly commentary assigned to each in that the beginning half of the film we have the character Om Prakash, the “junior artiste”as he calls himself but is a character that lives and breathes acting, accepting any role he can seem to get his hands on. On top of this, his character is one of the most redeeming qualities when compared with latter half of the film's embodiment into Om Kapoor (OK). The vast majority of intertexual examples are during the first half of the film, which is during the 70s, arguing for a time when film was varying and interesting without using sexuality and senseless action as a crutch like we see when OK attends the award ceremony and are subjected to watch a snippet from an Ali-G-esque (hilarious) monstrosity of a movie depicting a dime-a-dozen “badass” who literally catches his opponents' bullets, turns them into a grenade and chucks it behind him, exploding, followed by his ridiculous handgun-in-his-pants-pelvic-thrusting method of killing his enemies. The scene features virtually no dialogue and the means by which the protagonist vanquishes his enemies is via a deadly, sexual motion and his “weapon”.

During these awards, the winner of course being OK, the viewers are then shown scenes from his two award winning films in which they are the EXACT same only with different titles. This is a heavy-handed criticism of the integrity of modern Bollywood film in comparison with film of the past. This said, the film still takes time to knock these massive oldie-blockbusters down a notch when we have the privelege of watching Om take on the role of a hero in a god awful, hokey Western featuring a plush tiger and terrible special effects and overacting which is lauded by spectators, which I can't decide if it was sarcastic within the universe or sarcastic in its self-reflexivity. We can see how far film has come and how much interests are changing.

The film uses a lot of shots that focus intensely on Om and OK ranging from closeups to full-body shots almost all featuring him centered in the screen, particularly in most of the musical numbers. This serves to enhance the absurd level of OK's self-centered and borderline narcissism but could also be read into the fact that there is an obvious male-star favoritism in Bollywood as well as commenting on the simplistic way in which films create and emphasize main characters without any subtlety.

Overall, OSO is extremely successful in creating both a cohesive Bollywood film whilst criticizing the film itself and cinematic artistry in general as time progresses and the integrity of plot, storytelling, characterization, and cinematic practices all change, and as the film suggests, for the worst. But again, we're still reminded that we had bad movies during the ages where we find ourselves praising for being part of the best era of film and storytelling. 

Monsoon Wedding 4 -13 -16

Mira Nair's Monsoon Wedding, successfully tackles the difficult task of creating a film that is globally accessible (excluding the obvious limitations of representing every language and culture) and with the lofty decision to do so, Nair's movie takes on sexuality in different ways through its bevvy of differentiated characters. The expression of various elements of sexuality is in some way a boon directly tied to the decision to create a film aimed, in part, at the Western audiences as well as Indian audiences.

With characters coming from Australia, Southwest Asia, America, and India for a wedding, almost ironically, the first important character and scene we see them in is, what we learn in retrospect, of an affair between to-be-wed Aditi and her ex-boyfriend. Aditi, being one of the characters living in India. The irony of her characters actions is that it goes against the traditionally conservative and normative (arguably more female) Indian relationship. But when we reach the few shots regarding Tej and his young niece, there comes such an effective instillation of concern over the their relationship together using a shot that deliberately blocks out Tej from view as he bends over Aliya to feed her, slowly revealing Tej as Ria gets closer to the door. This development, as Jenny Sharpe writes in her book “Gender, Nation, And Globalization,” is “the disturbing topic of sexual molestation—a subject too controversial for popular Indian cinema,” and is one that is able to be included due to Nair making the movie under their New York-based company, Mirabai Films (Sharpe 61).

Having a New York-based company to produce the film through is not exactly enough to avoid alienating too large a population of viewers and so Nair specifically maintains multiple story arcs which buttress the film as a whole but also soften the serious, and in the case of Tej, sinister alternate plots. Of these various plots, we also see Varun's troubling relationship with his parents as they struggle (mostly the father) to understand/accept their son's very likely homosexuality and actually plan to send him to boarding school in an attempt to somehow squelch the homosexuality out of him by surrounding him with more boys (logic). Varun's arc within the movie is received globally by the west and in India in likely a similar way as in the early 2000s, when narratives surrounding homosexuality were making slow integrations into popular culture and cinema in positive and less stereotypical ways. Nair blends Varun's sexuality into the milieu of the film without ham-fistedly expressing it through characterization. By presenting this film with the globalized scope that is has, Varun stands as a character that is able to be accepted by merely depicting the realistic struggles that he faces with his parents.

We also have the young, lust-driven romance between Rahul and Ayesha, the two frequently stealing glances at each other as well as show Ayesha sneaking off into the night, scantily clothed, to meet Rahul, who is just in his underwear. Before this scene, we see Ayesha practicing their dance routine together when Rahul enters the room and Ayesha immediately runs up to him to flaunt in front of him, the camera hastily following along and zooming in to position itself at Rahul's eye-level, keeping Ayesha's lower half of her body as the centerpiece for as much as the shot as possible to further suggest her sexual nature and Rahul's willing sexual appetite.

And then there is the earnest romance between Dubey and Alice who exhibit more of a traditional Bollywood style flirtation with their innocent looks and youthful, uncomfortable and quiet amour shared with each other throughout the movie.

Rahul and Ayesha represent the non-traditional while Dubey and Alice represent the traditional. Both romances project a certain notion of egalitarianism by Dubey marrying beneath his caste and by Ayesha willing exploring her own sexual self without the guidance or restriction of a patriarchal presence. As Jamila mentions in her presentation, the women in the film, like Aditi, are able to choose “to be a sexual being.” The same freedom is given to Ria (as well as Aliya), not sexually, but as a character that had specifically been taken advantage of by a patriarchal figure as a young girl and was later in the film released from this power dynamic with the help of Lalit in his public demonstration to remove Tej from the party, and likely from the family in a larger sense.

Overall, the film takes many liberties with the blending of western and Indian cultural norms, traditions, and other commentaries in order to create a globally inviting film with content accessible to all while also pushing a sexually progressive and feminist narrative with virtually all of its characters like Aditi, Varun, Ayesha, Ria and Alice. The success with these narratives also comes with the territory of the globalized approach in that it is able to take pieces of culture from the west and India and the complications of each and provide commentary on both which suggests a certain message of trans-nationality with the events that unfold throughout the film as though these experiences are not necessarily indigenous to only one place.

Side notes: Rahul is an impregnable wall when it comes to insults slung at him from Lalit. It was hilarious at first because Rahul seems like such a burnout and can't seem to be responsible for anything even his own safety (injured hand) but by the end I couldn't help but start to feel sort of sorry for him because that literally just was the way he was addressed each time by Lalit, as an idiot.

I also absolutely loved how Nair presented the situations surrounding Varun, Ria, Aliya and Tej. Neither were told to the audience or deliberately shown, they were relatively subtle and arguably your suspicions are then later reaffirmed near the end of the film but the shots that lead up to those resolutions/explanations kept the viewer in suspense to know more about the character developments.

Satya 4-8-16

Gang membership and their family extension is very much at the heart of poverty and gang presence in virtually any urban area. Satya is a film that does this element of gang mentality and existence justice as the main character, Satya, befriends Bhiku in prison and later becomes enrolled in a gang which is as much akin to a family as possible for someone like Satya. The gangster genre of film as a whole, however, does not always represent this underworld with much accuracy and instead draws “on the mythology of the underworld” (Mazumdar 149). Most often these films shy away from genuine realism or focusing on true aspects of the humanity involved in the underworld, but Satya is one of few films that became popular by depicting a gritty, honest image of what the “underworld” looks like and how the people involved get to where they are. As Susan quotes from the director of Satya in an interview, the film is meant to address the human side of the underworld and “why a man picks up the gun.”

The genre itself doesn't seem to contest with the typical trends of popular Hindi cinema so much as exemplify them. Even the most light-hearted Bollywood films we have seen have still tackled serious societal discourse though presenting it often surrounded by other story arcs and scenes that make these criticisms or commentaries more digestible. Satya and others of the same ilk do without any liquids and demands the pill be taken as is. What the genre, if following in the same vein as Satya, does complicate and interrogate is, no pun intended, the truth.

The interest in what people involved in the underworld do in between their hits and other gang related activities that the director projects into the film does exactly what Susan notes in her presentation: it creates a grey area immediately as these otherwise “bad guys” are humanized and are ultimately a product of their environment like Commissioner Amod suggests. And the juxtaposition between communion scenes around the dinner table at police officer's homes to members of the chawl and then with the gang meeting, the film creates an ambiguity around the actions taken by each character to some extent. It is not black and white as Susan mentions. There is no one verifiable bad guy or good guy. Instead, we just have people trying to navigate an unfortunately corrupt and impoverished cityscape from different angles with the network and skills that they know.

When it comes to humanizing the underworld characters, the main character of the film's romance and familial bond with his gang are what represents the ambiguous and realistic depiction of life in poverty within a gang. Firstly, Satya is a person seemingly devoid of emotion or care when we first meet him, admitting to Bhiku that he does not fear death, which we, the viewers, can safely believe is true given that the first 30 minutes of the film involve Satya either beating or getting beaten by someone, going as far as having a gun pointed at him. The first thing to put a smile on this hardened characters face is the friendship between him and Bhiku who then takes Satya under his wing and adopts him into his gang which stands in as his family. From there, we are shown numerous invitations by Bhiku for Satya to come to his home and meet his wife and kids, or the other several occassions of communion between Satya and the rest of the gang members. Professor Ghosh makes note of the scene showing the contrast of windows between Vidya and Satya, with Satya behind bars and Vidya amidst a bushel of greenery and her arms stretching wide which suggests the entrapment that Satya feels by his position later in the film after he finally meets and falls in love with Vidya. With Vidya involved, this is the first time that he has have called in to question his lifestyle either before or during his crime-life. Vidya, the innocent, hardworking neighbor in the chawl is what brings Satya down from his life and seeks a way out but through a series of unfortunate events, he is abandoned by his family and feels obligated to get revenge on the man that disrupted and ended the lives of his gang family.

These experiences that create such a conflicted character out of a previously empty person are a true testament to what poverty does to push people to these extreme positions, what gang community provides for lost or impoverished individuals, and what friendship and love can do to promote change or provide sanctuary. These elements come together and illuminate an otherwise demonized part of society without perpetuating the flashy, glamor of other gangster genre films which often completely skip over the social, human experiences that truly drive these institutions. 

As a general aside: The actor for Satya did not hold my attention well and I couldn't tell if he was just bad at acting or if he was playing a down and out character too well. I will admit that the film becomes more interesting and impressive after thinking and reading about it critically and within real life context. 

3-30-16 Indian Diaspora in DDLJ

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (DDLJ) directed by Aditya Chopra is a film that seems to soften the edges around the ever present Westernization of the world, particularly India. As a country that has frequently created strong feelings of national and cultural identity in film, India has always felt the friction between Western culture and values against Indian culture and values and DDLJ is one film that has done well to cater to both ends of the spectrum, despite featuring two protagonists that are Non-resident Indians (NRIs).

Having two characters that are NRIs is actually an integral part to at least part of the narrative of the film which is that by having two main characters that are born in England but are still very much Hindustani, they are able to represent a blending of cultural identities and interests while maintaining their already strong Hindustani values and identities. We can see this happen when noticing early in the film Simran and Chutki are relaxing at home with some likely techno-style genre of music in their high-waisted jeans, vest and T-shirt, or British school uniform after enjoying a sugary bowl of cereal with an ad for Sonic the hedgehog on it. The scenes following this show the whole family dressed in more traditional Indian garb and the girls immediately “switch to a melancholy song from 1946 Hindi film, Shahjehan” (Ghosh). While this switch between cultures in context seems to suggest the patriarchal control that Baldev, Simran and Chutki's father, has on the family and the expectation to cater to his cultural preferences.

Baldev comes as an interesting character in this Indian diaspora which was pointed out humorously but aptly in the youtube review of DDLJ by Kanan Gill, in that Baldev left for England to accrue wealth and start a family and yet he is supposed to be the largest proponent for Hindustani culture, nostalgic to the point that he projects his nostalgia onto his family to the point that their children feel the need to appeal to him by pretending to be listening to music from traditionally Hindi films. The youtubers then point out when dealing with NRI nostalgia, the most aggravating thing to them is that if you complain and compare everything to India, then why not move back to India? The very same dynamic is played out in Baldev who ironically as the family's NRI nostalgic constant has not apparently seen his family in 20 years despite his supposed wealth and well-being in England.

This juxtaposition between the father and Simran and Raj then bolsters the effectiveness that the two have as characters that show just how safe their culture and heritage are whilst taking in Western elements as well. According to Uberoi, DDLJ was also one of the “new series of popular movies in which the NRI is positioned as hero,” which is interesting as it allows for the space to create a social trend or norm that NRIs can be characters that are not inherently corrupted by the Western world (Uberoi 325).

As a film that gives favor to NRI nostalgia particularly, the musical score and dances also strike an interesting balance in that the beginning of film where we're in Europe, the general sound, particularly the musical number during the French banquet event, gives off a sort of blend between traditional Hindi style and a sort of flamenco flare. The dances also feel more full-body-animated and free-flowing during the European section of the film. The most notable musical difference when we reach Punjab is the immediate front-runner instrument that rules over much of the traditional Hindi sound: the sitar. Previously, the most we hear the sitar is when Raj idly plucks at it save for a few times he genuinely plays some progressions. Suggesting once more the safety of the youthful NRIs traditional culture.

In the end, with all the service DDLJ does for the Indian diaspora, the film is still able to become as much a commercial success abroad as it does at home, even being dubbed by many as being a film that “inaugurated the new type of Hindi cinema known as Bollywood” (Dwyer). The success of the film is handily explained in one short quote from chapter six of Virdi's book The Cinematic ImagiNation, “In Hindi cinema the figure of the diasporic Indian is metonymic of this anxiety of the invasion of the west and disappearance of an “Indian identity,” which it cleverly manipulates to reimagine the nation in response to changing conditions” (Virdi 197). The film is able to create a norm of acceptance and integration of Western culture with Indian culture without a sense of invasion or loss of identity.

3-16-16 Bombay

The film Bombay handles the often rocky relationship between two religions and how volatile traditional values are while using Shekhar and Shaila as a microcosm, as Professor Ghosh notes in the blog for this week, for modern Indians and how they are beginning to feel in regards to religion and humanity but also for how Indians are greatly damaged by the fires of conflict that burn on between Muslim and Hindu faiths.

Early on the viewer is shown how uninterested in the religious traditions both Shaila and Shekhar are when we see Shaila constantly becoming unveiled from her niqab either by the wind or of her own design which suggests that it's natural and also willful how Shaila is not particularly constrained by the traditions of her religion. Shaila loses her niqab not long after becoming openly intimate with Shekhar which is one of many indicators for the willingness to relax traditional religious effects and requirements.

Shekhar has a more direct relationship with this natural and willfulness to treat his religion as he feels makes sense to him, namely for the sake of love. He goes as far as wearing a niqab to disguise himself as a classmate of Shaila's in order to get close to her on a rowboat. The act seems to be arguably sacrilegious to which Shekhar's friend tells him "they'll cut off your hand if you're caught!" (Raynam 19:10). Both characters openly deny the standard boundaries set up by their respective religious affiliations so that they may find love and peace within one another. This then becomes the narrative as the two marry and begin living with each other in the city of Bombay, the only place that the two can be together as their families outwardly refuse the prospect of marriage between the two due to religious purposes. The actions of the couple are constantly poking holes at the inane logic behind those that oppose their relationship.

When Shekhar tells his father that he plans to marry Shaila, his father gets upset with what seems to him to be a selfish and irrational decision. Shekhar retorts by asking if Muslim people are the enemy to which his father neglects to address altogether. The fact that during this scene it is raining is important for the character Shekhar and by extension Shaila as it symbolizes the birth of life into a new generation of social acceptance between two major religions. There is even mention at the beginning of the film how crops are doing so well and were saved by the rain. The rain has literally brought life to the village and beyond, through the union between Shekhar and Shaila. Typically with heavy rain, old sediment will be washed away for new soils and earth to take its place, much like how this union will usher in new thought regarding religious and cultural unification and acceptance.

The score also reflects a similar revitalization as the musical numbers harken back to traditional sounds and also to Guru Dutt's camera shots that move up close to our main characters and afar frequently as though "the gaze of the camera, for the most part, presents" different points of view (Ghosh). At the same time, the songs also offer up a more modern element like in "Tu Hi Re" as the singing is paired with various synthesizer effects and a steady bouncy drum beat that repeats steadily, all things that seem to be different from typical musical numbers in films thus far (before the 1990s) which do not feature synthesizers, of course, and also are seldom as simplistic with few instruments incorporated at any given time. 

In the song "Tu Hi Re," we see an important reflection of our microcosmic couple and the village in the castle that is constantly being battered by the choppy waters. Despite the tumultuous ocean waves that crash against the coast and the castle, the fortress still stands as a symbol of the stalwart love Shekhar and Shaila have for each other but also the strength that the youth that will succeed their parents. Their passions, interests, and desire for change are ironclad and strong against the weathering from the traditional values of their elders that wish to maintain the status quo rather than find a middle ground that promotes happiness, love, and peace like what Shekhar and Shaila are able to represent. 

The other point of the film that then suggests the rapid and powerful force of progression is after Shekhar and Shaila have their children and as Ghosh mentions, the children occupy a hybrid territory between two previously seemingly incompatible religions. Their confusion over the importance of being either Hindu or Muslim serves as a soft reminder of what Shekhar hints at with his father and the question over whether Muslims are to be enemies. The two boys who grew up accepting both Hindu and Muslim ideals and practices don't understand the divisive nature that instigated the riots let alone that the two were supposedly mutually exclusive. 
As a side note, the NYTimes article suggests that during the religious riots in Bombay at the time, there were supposedly more deaths of Muslims than Hindus and yet the director depicts the film with more of a shared damage on both sides. This decisions serves to strengthen the narrative of taking neither religious affiliation and instead suggesting that one can simply be Indian, first and foremost, and also that religion can be open to all and should not, and typically do not, preach the exclusion of others anyway.

In the end, the film is able to create a strong call for equality and acceptance as societal norms, particularly in the criticism and interest in the removal of "feudal religious and caste identities" that only seem to cause pain and anguish among the average Indian and instead people should focus on being Indian, accepting and appreciating one another first and foremost (Ghosh). Shekhar and Shaila's children act as living testaments to the possibility of becoming inter-religious and inter-cultural.

On a personal note, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie from the music to the characterizations and the cute humor despite the ultimately solemn historical violent background of the true events of the riots which was also dramatic and suspenseful, making for a wonderful film altogether. I feel as though I am partial to this film because the pacing and music more closely matches with what I grew up and am used to and find it easier to resonate with. 

Also, the actress that plays Shaila is almost obnoxiously cute in the film and I absolutely love it and for the first 20 minutes I thought Shekhar looked like the biggest dork of all but by the end of the film I came to love his character as well, mustache and all.  

Mr. India/ Half-Truth - Review and Response

 Given that not many classmates watched Half Truth, my responses to other students' reviews on my own presentation and film choice will be quite short and supplemented by discussing the similarities and contrasts between Half- Truth and Mr. India.

First, with Patrick's review, the cyclical nature of violence is certainly seems apparent within Velankar's life as his youth begins with witnessing and being subjective to violence in variations and then with being in a society that is corrupt and oppressive while being in a job that demands personal intervention with the most corrupt and oppressive people on a daily basis, Velankar is in a negative feedback loop in part because he is ill-equipped. Violence has been a method of resolution in his life and when confronted with issues, especially violent ones, then more violence is the rational response for Velankar because of the seeming lack of any other coping or problem solving mechanisms. And so, exactly as Patrick says, “He tries to forge a path as a righteous cop in an unrighteous system, but he doesn't know how to accomplish such a task without violence.”

Then, with Shelby's comment, I feel as though there must have been a conscious decision on behalf of either the author of the short story from which this movie was based or the director for the film itself, to send such conflicting messages with Anant. The character is the protagonist, still, and is explicitly seen doing what could be considered outstanding police-work as he puts away bad guys but at the same time the viewer is being hammered with watching Anant brutally attack people that have certainly done things wrong but the near savage punishment he gives to these people is disproportional to the crimes as Shelby mentions. Shelby's other contribution about the allowance for Jyotsna primarily wearing the pure white sari as an ironic sense of purity is a fascinating point to make and one that I battled with myself to understand but the concept of Jyotsna being passive to changing society due to the paralyzing nature of the patriarchy over women makes a lot of sense. If Jyotsna was a character that decides to refute the sexism that she personally endures daily then she would no longer be able to wear the all-white sari because that, in a patriarchy is not what purity is about. It is a direct challenge which cannot possibly be pure within this paradigm.

The most notable contrast between the film from what I can tell would be the ways in which characters handle issues of masculinity and femininity; one of the films showcases the destructive nature of these socially constructed identities, whereas the other film deliberately makes challenges to these identities by putting characters in different unexpected roles as well as different outfits entirely. Seema seems to be a character that utilizes both the unintelligible body for the sake of humor and also for demonstrating how fluid gender can be (not to be confused with the identity 'Gender Fluid').

The other difference between the films is that they highlight different capabilities or incapabilities as Mr. India shows that with the acceptance of constant changing gender identifications and socially acceptable roles ascribed to genders and sexes, it opens up a much larger playing field for everyone involved. Spaces which were typically off-limits to certain sexes and or genders are opened up to the masses. Whereas with Half-Truth, gender roles and identities are seen as cages and an unfortunate cycle of distress that either pacify members of society from acting out of line or by forcing others to act in ways that directly abuse or repress others.

Whichever stances the films take, both are progressive as they outline the problem with the normative behaviors and identities that influence India but in rather different ways. An interesting way in which the two films are similar is in their portrayal of hyper-masculinity as Arun assumes the role of a superhero, talks with a “deeper and more resonant” voice as Susan mentions in her post and with how Anant only has violence to answer problems with as a last resort, and sometimes as a first resort. The films tackle masculinity in different ways but the effects of utilizing masculinity are still different.

Arun, when assuming the role of superhero, despite trying to sound more “manly” is still invisible and while he tries to exude this hyper-masculine through his voice alone, the character still knows what he looks like and how he sounds and it comes off as comical rather than genuine, mocking the masculine requirement to the role of hero. Conversely, Anant's “manliness” is just a destructive mechanism for him as it ruins his relationships, career, and possibly his life as a whole.

With Mr. India and Half-Truth, both films make great strides for social progression by critically holding ideas of gender conventions under a magnifying glass to point out their detriments either in dramatic fashion or humorously. Either method of criticism functions well and are effective within a commonly consumed medium like that of film. These two films perform their messages effectively, precisely because they are so accessible to the masses without forcing any highfalutin scripts down the throats of its viewers.

3- 8 -16 Ardh Satya (1983)

My Presentation is over the extra credit option Half-Truth and so I imagine many of you did not watch the film so here is the wiki that does a relatively good job of summarizing the story:

My Presentation Link: https://youtu.be/sGwVcGc8Ms0

 The film opens at a party where Anant Welankar (Om Puri), a police officer, meets Jyotsna Gokhale (Smita Patil), a lecturer in literature at a local college. Anant is a sub-inspector with Bombay police. They seem to hit it off despite some initial skirmishing about ideology, and the friendship blossoms into a relationship.

 Anant brings diligence, enthusiasm and a definite idealism to his job. But the job is harsh. There is a deep nexus between the local mafia, the cops and the (corrupt) politicians. Honest himself, Anant falls among the lower rungs of the police hierarchy and has very limited scope of authority on the state of affairs in his area.

When Anant arrests three common thugs, he is asked to meet with their boss, Rama Shetty (Sadashiv Amrapurkar), a don in the local mafia. Anant refuses all of Rama Shetty's attempts to get his men out or to entice Anant to join him. Shetty decides to watch over Anant.

Some time thereafter, a meek fellow from a local slum lodges a complaint about some ruffians who harass his wife. Anant finds them, locks them up, and administers a severe beating. As a fallout, the local MLA asks for Anant to be suspended.

 Anant's boss, inspector Haider Ali, explains to a mystified Anant that the ruffians were the MLA's henchmen, providers of muscle during elections and political rallies. Anant is defiant with a clear conscience (he did nothing wrong) and ready to face a tribunal. Haider Ali explains that it will hardly get that far. Tribunals are either delayed indefinitely or are rigged (by corrupt politicians), and suspension during that time is a permanent black mark on one's record (for no other politician will be willing to deal with such a troublemaker).

 Anant is initially baffled but goes along with Haider's plan to bring in Desai, a mediator or middle-man with connections in New Delhi, the "Centre" or national seat of power. Desai invokes higher powers to quietly cover up the matter. Anant's morals are shaken by this incident: He had to use means barely legal to uphold his righteous actions upon criminals.

 Anant reflects upon his childhood. His father (Amrish Puri) retired as a Faujdar (constable) in the village police force. His father was a hard and violent man, quick to slap or beat his wife on the slightest pretext. Anant recalls looking on and being powerless to intervene. When Anant graduates college, he expresses his desire to pursue higher education but is forced into joining the police force.

Things get interesting when Anant finds one of Rama Shetty's goons, badly beaten, burnt and left to die. Anant brings the man into the hospital and takes his statement where he names Rama Shetty and others who inflicted this assault. Anant storms into Rama Shetty's rooms to arrest him. But Shetty is unfazed. He makes a simple phone call to a high ranking cop who immediately asks Anant to back off. Anant cites the context and the overwhelming evidence but is still ordered to step away. A consternated, resentful and hapless Anant leaves, feeling intensely humiliated.

Haider Ali explains yet again: Rama Shetty plans to run for city council in the upcoming municipal elections and simply cannot afford to let a petty matter distract his ambitions. Anant is horrified and enraged, and takes to drinking. His relationship with Jyotsna suffers. He is distraught when he is sent to provide security cover for Rama Shetty's campaign rallies.

 He suffers another career setback when he leads an assault team to capture a dangerous daku (armed bandit) in the hills outside Mumbai, and the credit for the arrest is ultimately handed to another officer. His relationship deteriorates further and he takes to drinking fairly heavily. When Jyotsna confronts him, he confides in her.

 Jyotsna tries to be supportive and suggests he consider another career. (She is motivated by recent news stories about police brutality and has decided that she will not marry a police officer.) He has always tried to do the right thing, but his well-intentioned actions always seem to be thwarted by the tentacles of corruption in the police force or the political strata. In the alcoholic trans a prisoner is killed by Anant in the jail when he uses 'third degree' and now Anant is not only likely to be arrested and jailed, but also has to lose his entire career. Finally he surrenders to Rama Shetty for political protection. Now, in the clutches of Rama Shetty, Anant has to obey his every order and humiliation. The dirty conditions put by Rama Shetty angers Anant and he kills Rama Shetty and then surrenders voluntarily to the Police for any punishment.