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.

3-02-16 Katha (Story 1983) - Binary

Sai Paranjpye's film, Katha, has a handful of unique characters that no matter the time on screen, the characterization of many of these characters is well done as each character stands out in one way or another. The lead character, Rajaram is one such unique character that, despite his honesty and genuine goodness, viewers are still filled with mix emotions about him similar to his foil Bashu. Both characters exhibit traits that we either find endearing, funny, interesting, clever or irritating, despicable, and so on. Rajaram seems to represent a particular role in the film's satirical universe that is much to the same design of what Thabith presented on and that is how Rajaram;s character is an extreme like Bashu with which other characters find themselves between like Thabith mentions. These characters present the parameters to which other people operate within typically. 

This parameter divide then becomes more interesting when we take into consideration the behaviors of Rajaram and Bashu within a gendered binary focus wherein Bashu is a "man" and Rajaram is portrayed as effeminate or a "woman." The blogspot reading labels Rajaram as "the earnest, do-gooder" and Bashu as the "charming conman" and in the film we learn that Rajaram has a degree and worked hard to achieve it as well as he works incredibly hard. These traits in this character show off his sustainability and his work ethic but it is also important to recognize how unabashedly kind he is to everyone in the chawl and out. It could be argued that Rajaram is a representation of an almost chaotic good character but for the sake of developing the importance of this gender binary concept in the film, I won't delve into that possibility. 

The intrigue of these traits of sustainability, kindness, honesty, and genuine good-nature are then the fundamental traits of this feminized character that represents the society's idea of a "womanly" person. In Sangeeta Datta's "Shyam Benegal," She depicts how film has been able to shed light on the struggles of women being marginalized in Indian society and Katha works to show some amount of this in quite a few ways with the women in the film but also with Rajaram, whom is essentially the representation of femininity which is an interesting decision to have a male in such a position in this narrative but in a patriarchal society, being a man is more of a norm and because of this, the neutral or normal decision for a character is  a man, regardless of what the character is being used to portray. 

Despite this male representor of femininity, Rajaram is still able to operate as a character that shows the ways in which women are oppressed or viewed as too idealistic or passive, traits that are often driven into women living within patriarchies. The director seems to deliberately play with these gendered traits when Rajaram is at work and acting incredibly nervous due to the women making advances on him, going so far as to present an apple, which given the context of the situation seems more of a sexual invitation using Freudian symbolism of a fruit that is commonly associated with a woman's breasts. This scene turns the gender binary on its head as it portrays these women as being sexually forthcoming almost to the extent of harassment, which in the following dream that Rajaram has, is exactly how he felt about the situation. 

The other side of the reason for Rajaram's feminine role other than a patriarchal normative expectation is also another way in which Paranjpye plays with the gender roles and expectations. Even though we often see shots of Rajaram in the kitchen while Bashu takes advantage of his kindness, the underlying factor is that Rajaram is the "breadwinner" in the house. He has a job and makes money while the "man" lazes about and barks orders at the "woman." When watching his company's new advertisement that literally features a man stalking a woman and cat-calling her, he comments on how childish the idea is, suggesting how inappropriate it is while the women he works with glaze over Rajaram's assessment and instead proceed to flirtatiously call out to him. 

So while it may seem like men dominate the film, the traits that comprise the embodiment of femininity within Rajaram, still exhibits some gender normative traits which could be discounted by the way other women act in the film but, overall the qualities suggest the honesty, kindness, diligence, and  idealism in women that are at first overlooked by everyone in the film but in the end recognized as being the most important while the embodiment of the oppressive man leaves entirely to poison another community with his lies and conniving ways. This binary that Thabith mentions, operates on different levels as there are frequently parallels drawn in the film, notably the gender discrepancy.  

2-23-16 Bhumika (The Role) - Identity

Benegal's Bhumika makes tactful use of color of clothing choices and frequency of change, camera shots, as well as flashback throughout the film in order to create a strong sense of uncertainty surrounding Usha, the protagonist, as she struggles to find an identity that best suits how she wishes to live her life. The film bounces around at different times of Usha's life, starting when in the present day shifting for a large portion of what could be considered the first half of the movie to Usha's past as a young girl up into her late teens or early twenties approximately. The last scene before the viewer moves entirely to the present features Usha rushing to her co-star, Rajan's home after she was accosted by her husband.

The transition to present from this point is through the incessant ringing of a phone with Rajan on the other line, which serves as another strong tie between the black and white flashback and the color film current time. Benegal's decision to add in this extra tie also depicts the extent to which Usha is plagued by her past as it and those she has chosen to cohort with, are continually involved and influencing her life. This pocked delivery of flashbacks throughout Bhumika does two things, it shows the sources for the identities that Usha attempts to engage with and also how ungrounded Usha feels with never being in one place very long.

Since Usha was a child she “is drawn to the classical music, which she learns from her grandmother, but rebels against her mother’s insistence that she learns household chores and demure behavior that would make her marriage material” and this desire at odds with the cultural construction of what is expected of those in feminine roles is the beginning for Usha in her struggle with how she wants and chooses to identify herself. In part as a rebellious act, Usha becomes a successful actress and is able to frequently pass through different identities within her roles in the films she plays in and then furthermore she becomes a parent herself and attempts to navigate between being a mother, a wife, and also a free and individualized person.

Another element to display this uncertainty and lack of full, wholesome identity is with the camera shots that typically portray Usha within either mostly medium shots, showing her from the waist up, or close-up shots wherein just Usha's head is visible. The effect of this decision to constantly minimize how much we see of Usha is to push this lack of identity because of the lack of being whole.

The scene in which Usha is helping Kale's wife and then they begin talking to each other is an important turning point for Usha as she realizes after his wife says "The beds change, the kitchens change. Men's masks change, but men don't change” to Usha while being a bedridden woman. Kale is an oppressive patriarchal figure all the same as every other man Usha has been involved with and the fact that Kale's wife is bedridden may be perceived as a result of his oppression over her and in her telling Usha that no matter how many times she moves from different lives with different men, the men never change and thus neither will she (Bhumika 2:01:58).

Towards the end of the film, Usha is seen wearing four vastly different colored outfits at different instances in quick succession. From vibrant red clothes during her talk with Kale's wife, to orange and subdued green when she speaks with Kale, to then green and yellow as she speaks with Kale's young son outside, and then all variants of blue whilst she gives a leg and foot massage to the grandmother living in Kale's estate. This rapid shift between colors and clothes represents Usha's attempt to shift between multiple roles for everyone involved in her life. It isn't until the final scene where Usha speaks with her now grown daughter after having left Kale's estate that she remains in her largely more dulled color clothes and tells herself that she must get used to her loneliness which is to say she must return to how she used to live with her husband. As mentioned in professor Ghosh's blog “the clothing change may be an attempt to transition from the public to the private, domestic space” showing another example of how Usha's change in garb is a literal attempt to change her identity.

As mentioned in the Smita Patil photo tribute page, “these cinematic worlds of harsh truths, injustice, exploitation and the occasional triumph of individual rebellion” are ever present in Bhumika as Benegal shines light on the the serious societal pressures that fall on women in India and how problematic it can be to navigate one's life amidst a constant wave of hetero- and gender-normative societal expectations whilst trying to live a life for oneself. The stress of finding individual identity is amplified greatly by these pressures and expectations and Benegal's Usha is a fantastic catalyst to depict such a tumultuous life that many women were and likely still are facing in India. The unfortunate but sobering reality of this socio-cultural conundrum is materialized when Usha returns with her husband and in a medium long shot scene, she receives a phone call from Rajan who brings up the prospect of another film to her despite her making no indication to anyone other than her husband that she was returning. Usha, like so many other women, is not able to escape the roles of which she is seen in and now officially recognized.

2-16-16 Sholay - Anti-hero and Interesting Storytelling

Sholay was the underdog of Bollywood films that was apparently expected to be a complete flop, only to be India's highest grossing film of all time and many factors play into the success of the film but the largest draw is without a doubt due to the antihero dynamic duo of Veeru (Dharmendra) and Jai (Amitabh Bachchan). Sholay was a vessel that carried part of a growing character archetype further cementing the anti-hero as a lovable and usable character. This style of character was quickly gaining popularity in Western film as well with characters like Max Rockatansky from Mad Max or Harry Callahan from Dirty Harry and it was no exception that India would also see and want to share similar narratives for films. 

The reason for the success of anti-hero characters is simple in that it makes for interesting story telling as characters suddenly become more accessible to viewers because anti-hero characters face challenges and react to them outside of the traditional good versus evil paradigm. It takes on a realistic approach to conflict in storytelling as characters are met with situations that are not entirely black and white but instead facilitate a large grey area much like real life consequences. Veeru and Jai are two criminals because that is how they survive. When these two are introduced, handcuffed and speaking to Thakur on the train, the audience sees these two men sporting Western fashion and arrested -- two things that are typically associated with villainy, especially in Bollywood where Western fashion usually connotes negative qualities of corruption or oppression. Despite this, the characters are exceedingly engaging, cool, and amiable. From saving the cop that has detained the two from, ironically, other bandits, to saving an entire village from genuine oppression and villainy from that of Gabbar Singh, the anti-hero character proves itself as capable of good when necessary and shows emotional investments unlike the typical antagonist roles in most films.

As mentioned in the blog postings by professor Ghosh, Amitabh Bachchan's character Jai, the moody, quiet, yet loyal character is a representation of the "growing angst and disillusionment of the Indian youth who felt let down by the government's inefficacy in combating corruption, poverty, and unemployment." This is a large component to the success of many anti-hero characters as characters like Jai are likely products of the very same concerns by the Indian youth's of the time. As a result, the character acts in ways that may seem unjust traditionally but in reality they act as one would out of genuine struggle and are not reprimanded for their actions in the film and demonized by being portrayed as characters that are evil. We see this in Sholay often as Veeru and Jai decide to be hired as mercenaries and attempt to steal from their employer but stop out of a sense of honor to the woman that catches them in the act and Thakur, saying that it will never happen again. Similarly, when Veeru and Jai hear Thakur's reason behind wanting to capture Gabbar Singh, the two willingly choose not to accept money for capturing this villain because they have sense of justice that they would still wish to defend despite being criminals themselves. They're criminals, but they're not "bad guys." 

The wonder of the anti-hero is in the complexity that the characters are allowed to have. They are allowed to be imperfect and only part-time selfless people as Jai and Veeru never once apologize for their way of life and what they believe to be just and unjust. Other than the capacity to relate to the characters as being more realistic, the anti-hero is able to do what the viewers are thinking. When we see the gnarly-toothed criminal Gabbar and see what he has done and continues to do to the villagers, we are relieved to see Veeru and Jai gunning down Gabbar's lackeys so that we might finally get to see Gabbar get what he deserves. True evil, which is what Gabbar seems to represent in the film, should be punished and the fact that Gabbar was able to get out of prison, murder Singh's entire family fuels the fire of those that doubt the efficacy of governmental institutions and their capacity for public safety, making characters like Jai and Veeru all the more necessary because stopping Gabbar with traditional means of justice do not always work and these characters are able to vent the frustrations of those that see the shortcomings of the institutes that are supposed to aim to protect and maintain justice

The film's setting also reflects the nature of the anti-hero as we see areas of bright flora to represent good amidst a very dry and barren landscape to represent the bad. Veeru and Jai are typically in a rocky, barren, or generally plant-life vacant location when they are fighting: on a train surrounded by an arid landscape and fighting off bandits or surrounded by a mountainous, rocky scene and defeating Gabbar's men and later Gabbar himself. Conversely, in times of peace and relationship building, both characters are seen relaxing under the shade of a tree at different occasions throughout the film or at Thakur's estate which is surrounded by crops and in many areas, grass. Thakur, the general proponent for justice is often surrounded by flora and fauna whereas the most evil character, Gabbar, is literally living in the rocky, barren hillside of a mountain. The two characters that are constantly navigating between these two distinct areas would be Veeru and Jai, the anti-heroes. The anti-hero harnesses both problematic traits of good and bad, which is what makes them so human, interesting and relatable.

Sholay is without a doubt, a massive success that more than likely influenced many changes in film for both Bollywood and the world at large as it pushes a budding new character archetype that is now a staple in modern Western media. The creation of the anti-heroes in Sholay is only one of many successful challenges to tradition that are seen throughout the film and the result was a record-breaking highest grossing Indian film. But the film owes much of its success still, to the unique anti-hero dynamic that shows off the exciting, intriguing and accessible characterization as well as a strong and intricate narrative. 

2-09-16 Pakeezah

Pakeezah is a rather dramatic film that tells a story about a young woman born into the life of a courtesan from a young age despite being the daughter of a wealthy nobleman, Shabbudin, and a courtesan, Nargis whose relationship was forsaken by Shabbudin's father thus compelling Nargis to slowly kill herself alone in a graveyard. The rest of the story follows the life of their daughter, now young woman, Sahibjan and her life within the kotha or brothel. Sahibjan represents an archetypal role to that of the courtesan in distress that can soon escape the confines of the kotha in which she lives and works at the aid of Salim and also his and technically her familial ties to Shabbudin. Despite what Veena Talwar Oldenburg says in her essay “Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the Courtesans of Lucknow.” the reputable courtesans being the “influential female elite” they were, they were still essentially property rather than employees as the birdcage given to Sahibjan symbolizes and also what the scene where Sahibjan is returned to the palace after crashing on the houseboat insinuates as her owners go searching for her not necessarily out of fear for her safety but fear for their loss in a trained and sought after financial prospect.

These courtesans are largely still trapped under the thumb of the patriarchy but the very existence of the kotha run solely by women and the presumable amount of the wealth they sustain in this field of work shows the power that these women have that combats the traditional views of women as being subservient That said, examples like these are repeatedly contested or qualified by patriarchal figures, showing how simplistic and irreverent the men are towards women in the film.

The element of these women's lives that speaks the loudest to the impinging growth of female presence to become a steadfast act against the waves of a normative patriarchal society is that these women in the koth have reached a level of notoriety and status as their own business owners, exercising their entrepreneurial spirits. The problem with this victory is that it can only be made by objectifying women further and also by perpetuating roles of dominance between men and women as men are the ones keeping these women in business because they are selling themselves. This is problematic for feminist struggles toward independence and equality to men as they are still set back in a place with limited power. In the very beginning of the film, Shabbudin's father denounces Nargis, a courtesan of high caliber simply because of her job title. Her death is then a literal representation of the patriarchy's squelching of this feminine transgressivity in society.

Oldenburg states that these women “celebrate womanhood in the privacy of their apartments by resisting and inverting the rules of gender of the larger society of which they are part” and this is a genuine resistance to patriarchal values but this traditional patriarchy demands such control over women that the only way in which women can express themselves as they see fit and not as the normative societal values mandate is to do so within their own microcosm of women.

Again, within this microcosm Oldenburg suggests in her essay, “Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the Courtesans of Lucknow,” “female sexuality has the chance of being more fairly and fearlessly constructed by women.”

A strong critique against the traditional patriarchy is also the character Salim as well and the existence of color symbolism. Salim is seen numerous times in mostly colorful clothing or the black that we seem him initially in the train car. Conversely, the vast majority of male oppressors or people that are seen shouting “whore” to Sahibjan towards the end of the movie, wear white clothes to symbolize their “purity” ironically. The only time that Salim is seen wearing all or mostly white clothing is when he is with Sahibjan and simultaneously Sahibjan is then also seen wearing white rather than her usual colorful and embroidered garb. This is a critique against men as they traditionally view themselves as being pure and ultimately the ideal sex, whereas the male protagonist Salim, one of the few men with any redeeming qualities, wears these many colors from time to time and courts Sahibjan. His existence in this regard is a critique of traditional patriarchy.

The last two scenes that show this critique begins where Salim brings Sahibjan atop a large plateau to get married and where Sahibjan can run away from her complicated yet oppressive life within the koth to be viewed as an object for sexual entertainment. Sahibjan panics and runs away from the marriage back to the koth where she at first expresses her acceptance of her position but performs one last miraculous dance to purify herself because she knows that Salim can't do that for her just through marriage. She must save herself in this way. Wearing all white, Sahibjan dances over broken glass, her feet bleeding. This scene shows, as professor Ghosh mentions in her blogpost, that “her feet are cleansed if you will by her own blood that replaces the alta.”

By the end of the film, we're then left with a woman free from this objectifying and oppressive profession, again wearing white, standing along side a pillar looking outward on her old home with the narrator referring to her, saying “only then comes the one, truly worthy of praise” one last testament against the looming influence of patriarchy as we hear that Sahibjan, a woman, is the only one worthy of any praise. 

2-4-16 Mother India

Mother India the epic drama film that it is, showcases a plethora of social commentaries about India as the nation makes waves of societal upheaval in a post-colonial world wherein the lead role, Radha, a woman raising two children in a rural Indian village which is to act as a microcosm for India as a whole in the events that take place. The scope that I will choose to focus on is based off of the sub-heading with insights and claims from a Rosie Thomas on the normative and transgressive representations of femininity in the film.

Radha is the largest component to the message of evolving ideals regarding femininity and the social expectations put on women in the post-colonial Indian culture as she undergoes many changes to her character at different milestones that separates the film into three stages of evolution as a woman: from youth and ascribed gender roles, to emerging female empowerment through struggle, to actualized woman willing to combat patriarchy directly.
Allowing first for the first few minutes from the film's present day Radha wherein she is an older woman to be grouped with the final stage, we first start with Radha as a young woman, recently married and working with her husband on the land where they live and trying to feed their family of five including their grandmother. The characters struggle underneath the corrupt and greedy Sukhilal, the landowner, who represents the general oppression of the lower classes as well as part of patriarchy. In one of the songs the lyrics express how hard they toil on the land and that "the fruit of our hardwork is swindled away" signifying that these people recognize the oppression put on them by Sukhilal and yet because it is the status quo it is accepted, though not without proper complaint. Radha in this section of her growth may or may not exactly recognize the way in which Sukhilal has his grips on the people but regardless, she, like the others in the village, accept this fact and try to live their life the best way they can and live content with the social dynamics at play. Only Radha begins to question this.

The beginning moment for Radha's ascension to becoming a the strong and empowered woman that she is at the end of the film and her life is when she convinces her husband to work some neighboring land -- land that is riddled with boulders and hard soil -- making it near impossible the effectively clear the land for use. And yet, Radha and her husband work the lands. They sweat profusely, day in and out, the camera shots show their toiling faces covered in sweat underneath heavy farming equipment for tilling and moving the large boulders, showing Radha and her husband as equal. For once, a woman's appearance here is not their only merit. Women can be strong and work hard in all the same ways a man can. Then begins a long and arduous test of both Radha's faith and mettle after her husband loses his arms whilst they were working the land together. Radha, without so much as a thought, full-heartedly intends to care for her husband in his state and it isn't until Sukhilal makes another appearance to convince Radha's husband that he is shameful and should not need a woman to look after him as though it were somehow a sign that he was a weak man (despite having no arms). As a result, he runs away from his family, the musical score switching to a shrill and somber tune to reflect his exact emotions about himself and the situation he was left in. Unable to face his wife or children and accept any further pity, he runs towards what viewers can only presume was his death. His running away at the jest and mockery from Sukhilal could be viewed as an example of just how fragile masculinity can be. The very thought of having to live a life wherein a man must rely on a woman is so threatening that he would sooner run away and die. Whereas Radha stays, pregnant, with two toddlers and her grandmother. But she soon faces even strong forms of adversity than she could have ever expected. Her grandmother passes away, she sells back her oxen to Sukhilal, and begins to work the land on her own. Trudging with this large plough, she assumes both typical male and female roles.

To make matters worse for her, a massive flood takes over the entire village and the agricultural land. She then loses her newborn baby in the flood as it passes away, her son Birju nearly dies of starvation, and in a moment of weakness out of necessity for hers and her son's survival, she sees Sukhilal to receive aid. Sukhilal, being the idol of patriarchy that he is, makes attempts to sexually coerce her only to fail as, Professor Ghosh mentions in her counter argument to Thomas' point, Radha recognizes through her concept of marriage and that loyalty allows her to muster the courage to refute his advances and maintain her integrity and avoid being degraded further by this man.

Years pass by and we're shown a sunny, vibrant Radha with her healthy two boys, now men, Birju and Ramu amidst scenes of Radha standing proudly with a hoe over her shoulder looking outward while the camera looks up at her. We're witnessing the strength of a woman as well as the strength of India itself when we see Radha like this. She was determined to not be held back by the weight of societal nor patriarchal pressures. In the shot where Radha is standing with the hoe draped over one of her shoulders, the angle also makes sure to leave only a backdrop of sky to create the illusion of Radha's intensity and size. She is big, strong, and hardworking. Three particular traits that would typically not be representative of a woman in India for the time let alone most of the world. Radha begins changing what it means to be feminine without necessarily incorporating masculinity. The testament to this is how Birju, her son becomes the embodiment of masculinity and the ways in which he makes attempts to remedy the plight of the village under the hands of Sukhilal. Birju resorts to violence in nearly every way whereas Radha still maintains a non-violent approach to conflict mediation. Birju fighting for the well-being of himself, his mother, and everyone in the village resorts to the necessity of a gun to solve his problems. A gun becoming the only method of removing the oppressive patriarchal figure that presides over the village. The gun then becomes a symbol of male aggression in a sense and Radha knows this and takes the weapon from Birju with the help from Ramu he other son and begins to break the gun. This scene where Radha is smashing the gun against the well while her son tries to break his way inside the home shows a symbolic attempt to break this aggressive and problematic masculinity that causes people nothing but trouble. Her attempts to stop this warpath that Birju is on were in vein. It isn't until Birju returns to the village with a small militia to take down Sukhilal and subsequently his daughter Rupa that Radha takes up a gun herself and shoots her son Birju for the sake of saving Rupa. The camera looks again up at the disgruntled and powerful domineering Radha amidst a bright background thus making her even darker looking as she wields the gun we are left with a person that has broken the gender binary after she utilizes this symbol for masculine aggression to kill a proponent for masculine aggression while saving someone that is an example of typical femininity. Radha evolves in this moment into an actualized character that is multidimensional as a person. She is merely Radha a woman that has all the capabilities that a man has and has exhibited them throughout the film.

We're then left with the final scene with Radha hugging a piece of earth from the land she's lived on for years and it isn't until everyone has her consent to work the land through more modernized means. Despite being a woman, at the end she becomes the one in power as the mother of the land or the Mother of India in a broader sense. Radha has evolved over time from the normative example of an Indian woman the lives to serve her husband and care for their children to a woman capable of anything, working through many of the hardest toils, and assuming a role of authority over a previous male domination. These motions that Radha goes through are reflective of what India was navigating in terms of where women stand in a modernizing and adjusting post-colonial nation and how they will over time no longer be bound by the restrictive gender normative values and traditions of an old and oppressive patriarchy and instead work together to forge a strong nation for themselves.