The making of Adipurush – a movie adaptation of a portion of the Ramayan, and a few thoughts on the politicization of Bollywood.

The first time I heard about a remake of Ramayan ( tentatively titled “Adipurush” then) was in 2019 or 2020. And I learned about it through a brief controversy in the media about Saif Ali Khan’s comment on how this version of Ramayana would attempt to project the good side of Ravan. Khan was slated to play the role of Ravan. The right-wing factions in India had three objections to this matter. One – Saif Ali Khan, a Muslim, as Ravan? Two – who is he to comment on one of the most revered texts of India ( at least from 1992 Ramayan has been in the news more than ever), and three – would Ravana’s character be cast in the mold of a tyrannical Muslim ruler? The third point was more of speculation than anything else, and it was based upon the first glimpse of the poster, in which, Saif Ali Khan, uncannily resembled a cruel, mean Muslim tyrant with Kohl-enhanced eyes, just as Ranveer Singh did as KIilji in the ill-fated Bhansali movie ” Padmavat” ( again a controversial film in its own right). The fuse of controversy and criticism was lit even before the movie went to the floor.

On June 16th, this week, Adipurush was released worldwide, but not before a series of pre-release events to launch the audio, the movie, its stars, its directors, and whatnot. The movie trailer itself was released in three parts over a month or so, in three languages, and in each one of them glimpses of the hunky, muscle-rippling ( some say steroid-induced) physique of Prabhas as Rama, and other warriors in different shapes, forms, and sizes, along with beautiful Kriti Saron as the demure Sita languishing in Lanka were showcased in quick succession. These are familiar images to the Indian audience, but this time, the makers of Adipurush promised to envelop the Ramayana experience in the full splendor of technological might. During these month-long celebrations, even before the movie hit the screens, further controversy emerged, and interesting ones at that. On a trip to Tirupati in Andhra Pradesh to pay homage to the lord of the hills as a sign of gratitude and devotion, the director of the movie Om Raut (who in the past has directed movies on themes that glorified the Hindu kings/chieftains of India) made an inadvertent but fatal mistake. He kissed Kirti Sanon near the Sanctum Sanctorum by way of thanking her, I suppose. It didn’t go unnoticed by the Hindu groups. Nobody kisses anybody of the opposite sex near the Lord, not even husband and wife. Om quickly apologized, but the scar remained. Om Raut was in the limelight again soon after, when he broke down during a pre-release event, and out of the blue requested all the theatre owners who planned to screen his magnum opus, to keep aside one seat for his Hanumanji. He further said he was certain that Hanuman, the mythical devotee of Rama, would grace every screening of this labor of love. When I heard this remark, for a few seconds, I couldn’t believe my ears. Did he really mean what I think he meant? Apparently, yes, because on June 16th, when the movie opened in the theaters, many of theaters did actually reserve a seat for Hanuman, and furthermore treated that seat with all three devotion and ritualistic respect one gives to a holy place. Superstition cannot get more explicit than this.

I have a confession to make here. I haven’t seen the movie, and I don’t intend to. Moreover, I am relieved the movie was sold to an OTT that I don’t subscribe to, so that obviates any chance that I may be forced to watch this movie even on a day when I have nothing else to do. I know my Ramayana in and out, and I belong to the generation who unfailingly watched every episode of Ramanand Sagar’s Teleseries, that painstakingly, but very thoroughly recreated the Tulsidas version of the Epic. When I close my eyes, I can still see Arun Govil and Deepika Chikhlia in front of me (Two years, every Sunday between 1987- 1988 is enough sensory input to leave an indelible mark in one). I have seen the Tamil, and Telegu adaptations starring the best actors of the era, and of course, I have read almost all available translations of the epic, including the best English rendering in recent times: Ramesh Menon’s brilliant re-telling of the story. So my education in Ramayana is complete, and so is the case with millions of Indians in the country and all around. Unlike the Mahabaratha, which is intricate, complex, and multi-layered in texture and interpretation; the Ramayana is a pretty straightforward tale. In fact, I have always believed the only two interesting characters in the Ramayana were Vaali and Ravana. There was something in both of them that always made me pause and think about human nature – their characters possessed a combination of human characteristics, which, I believe, is representative of most of us. Anyway, that is beside the point of this essay. The point is: do we need another movie about Rama’s quest to regain Sita? There are, at least, twenty-five movies, if not more, on Ramayana, since Dada Saheb Phalke’s – the man who started the Cinema revolution in India – 1917 “Lanka Dahan”. And most of the adaptations have focussed on three periods from the epic: Sundara Kanda ( the sweet period), when Sita is held captive in Lanka and Hanuman makes the trip to Lanka and back; the second is the war with Ravana’s legions, and the third, perhaps the most controversial even today, the period of Luv and Kush, the royal children, who grow up in the forests after Rama chooses to banish his queen to the forests upon insinuations from his citizens about her chastity – a very regrettable and hushed-up episode in the epic, a sub-story that tends to cast a pall over the sanctity of the epic itself. Scholars try very hard to prove that Valmiki didn’t write this part about Sita’s banishment and it was a later addition to the epic for civil purposes. Well, we don’t know. But movie makers over decades have used Luv and Kush’s story as raw material for many of their adaptations. It has worked well. Adipurush is supposedly based on the Sundara Kanda and the battle phases of the Ramayan – the abduction of Sita and the fight to get her back. We have seen enough of these stories that no amount of technology we can throw at it can add an iota more to what we already know.

I find it surprising that over the last few years, there seems to be a deliberate thrust in Bollywood to make movies that lean towards Saffronistic themes, stories that accentuate the victories of Indian kings ( Panaji, Prithviraj, Shivaji, etc), and movies that highlight the sacrifices of our brave Indian ( predominantly Hindu) soldiers. And on the other hand, movies such as Kasmir Files and Kerala Story, vilify minorities. I am not a student of politics and neither do I profess allegiance to any specific party, but it does seem very clear that there are forces at work in the Bollywood industry that are working hard to channel the opinion of the public in a certain direction through the medium of cinema. In India, Cinema is the most powerful, pervasive, and deeply influential art form. There is no doubt about that. It is a medium that strikes and molds the hearts of people with immediate effect. It can be a powerful weapon in the hands of a ruling party. Jawaharlal Nehru, our first prime minister, knew that when in 1949, he set up a Film Enquiry Committee and nominated S K Patil, a member of the Constituent Assembly, to study cinema and suggest developments along “desirable lines”. The key phrase there is “desirable lines” – to promote what the congress thought was the form and ideological shape the Indian nation should take. In the 1970s, Indian cinema was largely liberated from the clutches of political stranglehold, and that is when commercial cinema expanded its themes and took up subjects that were taboo or considered anathema earlier. Notably, this was also the period when characters with certain names weren’t always stereotyped as villains. The trend to associate villains with names from a specific faith started becoming a norm in the mid-nineties, which coincidentally is the time when the BJP was also on the rise. The Party would get to power for the first time in the late nineties. The signs of things to come were clear. In developing countries, where literacy rates are low, and time for reflection and thought is less because people have no time from their daily hard labor, doses of concentrated visual imagery that projects a compelling ideology can be quite a powerful factor. It is easy to believe when something is shown. When adrenaline courses through the audience’s veins, they become malleable and can be prepared to spring into action, when needed.

When Hindu religious groups objected to Deepika Padukone’s orange-colored bikini in the over-hyped movie “Pathan”, it was crystal clear who is shaping the medium, and on what terms. The producers had no choice but to make the changes before they could release the movie. Or take the case of Padmavat. Bhansali almost gave up making movies after that project. Even OTT platforms have been asked to tighten their belts. In an incisive New Yorker essay published in October 2022, Samanth Subramanian details how the RSS, the parent organization of the BJP, has established a media unit in Mumbai, staffed with people who are savvy, educated, and have access to the Bollywood film industry. Their role is to have conversations and “advice” moviemakers, scriptwriters, and directors on areas they can consider for their future projects. It is not intimidation, but a polite nudge that indicates what could be best for them. The slew of movies in the last few years is a testimony to this ongoing dialogue. Samanth reports talking to story writers and directors who confess that the most essential factor to consider while writing a story is how to name the characters. What should the Hero of the story be called, and what name should the villain carry? These have become critical considerations these days.

If this essay has given you the impression that I am anti-saffron, I have to correct myself. As I said earlier, I like good governance whoever is able to provide it. I think the BJP government has done well over the last decade in lifting the image of India on the global stage and there is a firm sense of purpose in how they have governed. the country. No one can contest that. But art cannot flourish if it is brought within the sphere of political agenda. Creativity needs space, and creativity is by nature, dissent. In every civilization history has a record of, it is art – in writing, in music, in dance, in folk – that has held the mirror for people to see who they are, and what they wish to be. Only totalitarian regimes attempt to control art. While art can be used to evangelize political ideas, every government across the globe regularly does it, it doesn’t mean it is the duty of the government to shepherd, suppress, condemn, or vilify those that are not willing to toe the line. And what is even more dangerous is when Government endorses art to spread division and hate. Movies are entertainment, and in the process, they can expand the mental horizons of people to become accommodative, more tolerant, and more open to different points of view. In fact, that is the only duty of every art form. A good book, a great piece of music, or an immersive dance, has the capacity to stretch the psyche and enrich self-knowledge. Therefore setting a political agenda for how art should flow undermines its use of it. That’s all I am arguing for.

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