The Film Federation of India refused to submit All We Imagine as Light for Best International Feature Film at the Academy Awards this year. The reason given was that Payal Kapadia’s film was not “Indian enough.” To quote the president of the Film Federation of India Ravi Kottarakara said, “The jury said that they were watching a European film taking place in India, not an Indian film taking place in India.” And the central plot of Laapataa Ladies retains the “Indian-ness” that is to be expected.
The labour of womanhood, and the self-imposed expectations of a woman is in strict contrast to the portrayal of womanhood in cinema for representation in light of how our women should be seen by an audience, once again a performance. Strictly following the reasons for denying All We Imagine as Light entry, it questions the fabric of clothing that women wash, dry, and wear. The choice of Laapataa Ladies is not in question here, but the decision to keep All We Imagine as Light out of the race.
The Anxiety of Indianess by Meenakshi Mukherjee writes of the search for equilibrium in the representation of literature in India through language constraints and products of alien subjugation that have confronted and divided Literature in India in accordance with the use of regional languages and English. All We Imagine as Light, excluded for its lack of “Indian-ness,” delivered three women that struggled in occupation and sustenance, but shared their love with each other, despite their different outlooks and being. There is a longing imagined as well as realised in their movements. Migration in search of belonging, a home, found in objects of permanence and impermanence, are reflected by the hope of a livelihood found in Mumbai. Monsoons in Mumbai resolve the conflicts of the day by settling for a cup of chai, and the smell of buildings with cramped rooms that are met with grateful nods for the roof it provides. The pace of the film slowed down the never-ending race for a sense of safety and security.
The City of Mumbai
A city that acts as the centripetal force for people from corners of the nation to settle and reside, forced the multitude to experience and witness one another in passing. It is filled with bustling markets and minds of the locals, nearby and inside the local trains, stopping at every station, yet never stationary. Dialects of language collide and clash until a point of understanding is reached to resume conversation. Each station is furnished by different communities, varying expectations, and societal norms. Its chemistry is altered by ration and rationalised by shadows in individual plight. And in this habitat, there is this raging desire to be seen, touched, loved, and witnessed. The companionship and love that exists between Anu, Prabha and Parvathy is painted by their reactions to witnessing one another in adversity. They have observed each other, and responded with themselves.
The film spoke in Hindi, Marathi, and Malayalam. A story I resonated with my mother’s trials faced by her when she first moved to Mumbai at the age of 17. In hopes for furthering her education, she was misguided by a loved one to work and toil instead, for another’s advantage. And found love in the same city at the age of 20. And as a result of being deprived of this dream, it was passed on to me. Not knowing that as a child at the age of four, taking chocolates to her teachers, and reciting songs for assemblies, that I would be responsible for carrying forward a mother’s dream by moving to Mumbai fourteen years later with the opportunity to study a subject I chose. My mother learned Hindi in Mumbai very quickly to engage in conversation, and would speak in Malayalam to her cohabiters. A language she’d write back home in, or have intimate conversation in. This engagement in one’s mother tongue is shown in the film, and tied to very intimate dialogues throughout.
As an Indian
Tents of blue tints serenade the attire, the rains, and the lens of fond imaginings. When the scene is transformed into the delights of a coastal village, there is a stranger that washes ashore; his body is observed with patience and speculation, that there would be no time for in Mumbai. Closure is sought by Prabha as she tends to the stranger; she rewrites it to be that of familiarity, that no longer existed once her husband left for Germany, in a ritual of abandonment. Anu is in love with Shiaz, a Muslim boy. Even when her relationship is faced with the quiet rage of suppression to abide by duties and responsibilities of family and religion, their love remains soft spoken. They constantly attempt to satiate this external need to justify their desire to be with one another. And Anu struggles with the spoken emphasis of her moral character and image at her workplace. People tend to wilfully misunderstand a person or words to fit a narrative.
Parvathy’s ancestral village is made of hues, despite her facing the cruelty of displacement. She has been dealing with the tribulations of her husband’s death. As an undocumented migrant exploited for her constant toil and almost as punishment for being underprivileged is on the verge of losing her home, as all the necessary paperwork is in her husband’s name. The scenes in Parvathy’s ancestral village tie together the formalities and informalities of their relationships with each other and to the parted, the distant, and the cunning.
The last scene is characterised by colourful splashes of light that stems from the hope of another day that will slowly wither amidst the company of understanding. It is silent and plastered on their faces that it has not ended. The film does not represent a regional experience; it expresses the conditions for satiating the need for survival, connection, conversation, intimacy, and fulfilment which varies from people as products of socialisation and the Indian story. As a nation painted by multiculturalism and regional languages, it displays the art of regions that are collectively recognised as Indian. It includes that which is absorbed, assimilated, and attained. The attempt at preserving what is perceived to be an adequate selling story of culture made fantastical should not exclude the impressions of real experiences of the ordinary. Everyday lives are a mosaic of India’s revealing canvas. Our history itself attests to the ever-changing face of sentiment.