Representation of Kashmir in Bollywood- Haider
Although coincidental, there seems a strong parallelism of the dynamics of changes between the writings of Shakespeare and socio-political discourses of Kashmir. Around four centuries ago, it seems as if Shakespeare knew how Kashmir, like his plays, would turn from an idealistic honeymoon destination to a tragic spot (from “most beautiful to most dangerous place on earth”). Many of us who are aware of the history of Kashmir know that pre-1989 Kashmir (as a geographical space) was primarily identified as pornotropic land, with lush green valleys, snow covered mountainous peaks, house boats, Dal Lake, fresh streams and springs. Apart from portraying Kashmir as a celebrated ‘beauty myth’, the world’s second largest Indian based film industry, Bollywood played a crucial role in [re]presenting it as a romantic geographical spot, dominated by its scenic landscape. Nevertheless, when it came to representing more than landscape of Kashmir, for example its inhabitants, pre-1989 ‘Kashmiri’, was either a houseboat owner, or a tourist guide, almost a neglected entity entirely engulfed by the landscape. The present work mainly focuses on Bollywood’s new controversial project “Haider” discussing Kashmir. Nevertheless, before criticising/analysing ‘Haider,’ perhaps an overview of the Bollywood’s historical account of Kashmir would facilitate to examine why it is different and significant from most of the post and pre-1989 accounts.
Pre-1989 Bollywood’s Romance with Kashmir:
Most of the pre-89 Bollywood movies ‘shot in Kashmir’ or ‘about Kashmir,’ hardly represent any constituent of Kashmiri identity--be it culture, dress, cuisine, music, or language. The diminutive representation of ‘Kashmiri’ was first time seen in Shakti Samanta’s (1964) film “Kashmir Ki Kali” which was followed by Suraj Prakash’s (1965) “Jab Jab Phool Khile” and Manmohan Krishna’s (1979) “Noorie”. It was Manmohan Desai’s (1974) “Roti”, Bollywood’s first experiment to replicate the Kashmiri traditional dress pheran [a long gown], and a headscarf [traditional Kashmiri head cover for women]. “Apart from being jingoistic, the filmmakers mixed the dress and culture of Kashmir with the neighboring federal state Himachal Pradesh which further distorted the essence of real Kashmiri characters”, notes Fokiya, of Manipal University.
Post Conflict Films:
As the focus of the writings of Shakespeare [which initially were ‘love and romance’ cantered] changed in his later writings [which were based on tragedy], likewise, the idea and imagination of Kashmir changed from [the pre-1989] a ‘romantic spot’ to [the post-1989] a ‘tragic hamlet’.’ The post-1989 narrative entirely changed the ‘image and representation’ of Kashmir, both for the Bollywood, common masses, media houses and potential tourists. After the conflict (post-1989), ‘Kashmiri’ was represented as either a militant/terrorist or a sympathiser of militants who conquered the picturesque view of mountain peaks. The inference was obvious,--Kashmir as a geographic spot is about peace, love, and romance, and Kashmir with its people explicates problem and violence. Bollywood’s such representation of Kashmir was backed by some biased print and electronic media houses, who were hell-bent on associating anything which sounds like Kashmir with ‘aatankwaad’ or terrorism. Therefore, post-89 Kashmir is a breathtaking landscape in which art and violence coalesce into one unforgettable experience. Political, ideological, religious and conflict discourses dominate the post-89 account of Kashmir depicted by Bollywood. The reverberation of soothing waters and falling of soft snow was replaced by gunshots and bomb blasts, and the peaceful flocks of sheep near the meadows were replaced by fearful armed men with lethal weapons. Violence and geopolitics, argues Rai, “have finally intervened within Kashmir’s cinematic performance and reception: with the emergence of Kashmiri separatism in 1989, the Valley now offers a theatre for a new ‘cinepatriotism’” (Amit Rai, 2003).
Mani Ratnam’s (1992) Tamil-language (dubbed in Hindi) political drama-romance film “Roja” was Bollywood’s first experiment representing post-89 Kashmir. Unlike Vishal Bhardwaj’s last adapted trilogy [Haider] based on ‘Hamlet’, (the other two include ‘Maqbool’ and ‘Omkara,’ adaptations of ‘Macbeth’ and ‘Othello’ respectively), Roja was the first in Ratnam’s trilogy of films that depicts human relationships against a background of politics, (the other two include Bombay and Dil Se). These were followed by Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s (2000) action thriller-drama “Mission Kashmir.” Although their illustration of violence is superficial and exploitative-a strategy [what Margaret Bruder calls] ‘violated cinematography to spectacularize the context.’ Such films brought acceptable outlets for anti-Kashmir impulses among the Indian masses. They were non-realistic sequence of fragmented narratives with exaggerated referential content, and such referential interpretations were without any ‘internal evidence’ from Kashmir. Such film narratives worked as propaganda to sell false information to those who cannot access reality. Bollywood, in fact, has emerged more as a source of encouragement than just a source of entertainment. Therefore, movies like ‘Mission Kashmir’ played a crucial role, in re-shaping the idea of post-89 Kashmir among the majority of Indian masses. Based on the assumptions of “Roja” and “Mission Kashmir,” many non-Kashmiris used to ask me, “Have you seen terrorists? How do they look? Do they kidnap and kill people?” Both the films had the same effect, what the Leni Riefenstahl’s most famous propaganda film [mistakenly considered a ‘factual film’] ‘Triumph of the Will’ (1935) had.
Ironically, very few among the Indian masses have some understanding of the politico-historical discourse of Kashmir, for the majority it constitutes what Ratnam, and Vidhu Vinod Chopra have filmed. Post-89 Kashmiri’s identity assertion changed from a houseboat owner and tourist guide to a [suspected] militant. It was followed by Shoojit Sircar’s (2005) war drama romance “Yahaan” and Kunal Kohli’s (2006) romantic crime drama, “Fanna”—the first Bollywood movie, where the protagonist sacrifices his life for a ‘cause’ rather than romance/love. It semiotically illustrated that Kashmir is perhaps more about a ‘cause’ than a ‘natural beauty spot’ and apart from its magnificence it inhabits people who have a bigger issue to resolve than just to romance with its snow covered mountains and lush green valleys. The movie [non-traditionally] deviates from the hyper-jingoistic nationalist Bollywood discourse, where in one of its scenes, a TV correspondent is shown reporting openly the bomb blast at Rashtrapati Bhawan, Delhi, says “IKF ki maang Kashmir ko azaad karna hai Hindustan aur Pakistan se” meaning ‘the demand of IFK (a militant group) is to get Kashmir free from India and Pakistan.’ The movie also courageously tried to underscore the politico-historical understanding of the Kashmir conflict—where in a discussion with high-level officers, Tyagi (Tabu) debates about the referendum of Kashmiris. “Kashmir ko 1947 mein referendum ka waada kiya gaya tha, jo abhi tak pura nahin kiya gaya hai” that ‘Kashmiris were promised right to referendum, but the promise has not been fulfilled yet’. Nevertheless, keeping the Bollywood’s traditional rhythm with nationalistic venture alive, it also propagated how the protagonist, a [Kashmiri] tourist guide becomes a militant and extends his boundaries from Kashmir to Delhi. Such representation of Kashmiris by Bolloywood might be a reason to persuade the people of India to think differently for Kashmiris, where many Indians used to hesitate to interact, entertain, or trust a Kashmiri [Muslim] who travels outside Kashmir, be it in buses, trains, or even to get a rented accommodation outside Kashmir.
Within the grand narrative of the ‘Kashmir conflict’, there are many sub-narratives, which remained suppressed for long time. However, in 2004, Ashok Pandit (a Kashmiri Pandit) highlighted one of the crucial (sub)narratives of the Kashmir conflict-the predicament of Kashmiri pandits. In his film “Sheen” he showed the journey of a Kashmiri Pandit from its idyllic home to a refugee camp. Similarly Rahul Dholakia’s (2010) “Lamhaa” apart from courageously presetting the account of Kashmir history, highlighted one of the crucial sub-narratives and out come of the conflict—the plight of ‘half-widows’ (the wives of disappeared men, who are not sure if they are alive or not). The film also dared to break the ice by depicting the (unwanted and unexpected) image of the armed forces in Kashmir and overtly held them responsible for [creating] half-widows by forced disappearances and the corruption levels in the Indian Army. Among one of its many intrepid scenes, it showed how the border is opened up to let militants sneak in for a cash payment. It also shows how the Indian government has failed to conduct a free and fair electoral process in Kashmir, where in one scene, a Delhi based politician says, “kursi uski hogi jisse Dilli chunegi,” which literally meant, “Delhi will choose the boss for Kashmir irrespective of who wins or loses in elections”. Rahul Dholakiya also broke the age-old catchphrase from “welcome to Kashmir, the most beautiful place in the world" to “welcome to Kashmir, the most dangerous place in the World."
Haider:
There is, probably, always something tragic and twisted in “the world’s most filmed story, Hamlet,” [after Cinderella] and Haider is the latest. To contextualise Hamlet after four centuries that, too, with complex Freudian concept (though kept subtle) is indeed a herculean task. As a strikingly revenge melodrama, Haider's plot outline, according to many analysts is similar, though not same to that of Hamlet. Following the Revenge Tragedy genre, Bhardwaj’s attempt to depict staple emotions of Hamlet while keeping his focus firmly on Kashmir is praiseworthy. It would not be an exaggeration to consider Haider a remarkable adaptation of Hamlet, intertwined in a story that encompasses Kashmir, militants, politics, power, lust, love and the concept of chutzpah.
Haider, according to its director Vishal Bhardwaj, is the first film where we see Kashmir from the inside. The controversies it invited were mainly based on two issues. The first, it attempted to ‘feed’ the viewer with new [real] senses about Kashmir, which many viewers treat unusual and non-intersecting with their understanding vis-à-vis Kashmir. Moreover, the way Plato proposed to ban poets from his ideal republic because he feared that their aesthetic ability to construct attractive narratives about immoral behaviour would corrupt young minds. In the same manner, some self-styled hyper nationalists assume it might ‘corrupt’ the minds of many less-informed Indian masses, thereby exposing the ‘real’ picture of Kashmir and Kashmiris. The realist cinema, like naked art is always disturbing, and Haider being realistic is mainly because it engaged a well-informed insider, Basharat Peer, to frame its screenplay. Apart from the controversies, it is essential to understand what ‘Haider’ offers different from the Bollywood’s earlier discourses depicting Kashmir.
Moreover, there are two main types of audiences, who presumably have interpreted the entire narrative differently. One, the people (mostly non-Kashmiris), who know Kashmir and the conflict, through Bollywood movies and media houses. The other type includes those who are born in Kashmir and are not only the part of the entire conflict but also know/understand subject of Kashmir more thoroughly. For the first group of audiences, it is probably genuine to be reluctant to accept some naked realities filmed in the movie, simply because they have not experienced it, they have not heard about it, they cannot understand it, contextualises it and therefore cannot tolerate it. Their criticism to the film was subjective-ethnocentric than rational. I, as a viewer belong to the second group, and analyse the entire film narrative as a Kashmiri who was not only born and brought up in Kashmir but have experienced each part of the conflict, and can relate with each scene of ‘Haider’ not with anger or emotions but with haunting memories.
Haider’s famous monologue “‘Hum hain ki hum nahin” the direct adaptation of Michael Almeria’s ‘Hamlet 2000’ “To be or not to be” explains the Haider’s psychological conundrum at its best. Haider’s love equations for Gertrude (Taboo), Ophelia (Shraddha Kapoor) and King Hamlet (Narendra Jha) and hate equations with Claudius (Kay Kay Menon) are intricate and befuddling. The protagonist, a politically aware youth engages with the outside world as much as he battles the banes within. His conundrum as a hero who neither kills the villain nor dies in the end sustains until the last moment.
Assertion of Identity Expressions:
Although a revenge tragedy, nevertheless, Haider asserts and articulates many indigenous linguistic and non-linguistic identity symbols. Probably Bollywood’s first project on Kashmir, which starts with a cavernous Kashmiri expression ‘hata’ye mou’ji’ ‘oh mother!’ It is not a simple Kashmiri linguistic expression and assertion of identity, but an expression of pain, grief and suffering, whose usage frequency has increased more than any other word in Kashmiri language, at least from the last twenty-five years. Be it a Kashmiri woman, men, old, young, Hindu, Muslim, Sikh all have memories associated with this expression, which are not pleasant. It is followed by a background sound of ‘aazan’ in typical Kashmiri accent. One of my friends from South India visited Kashmir in 2006, once he heard ‘aazan’ from a local mosque; he asked me ‘is it in Kashmiri’? Such overt assertion of linguistic identity statements is prominent in many scenes of the film. For example, Tabu, as a teacher in a school employed typical Kashmiri accent. The consequences of this identity assertion entail many facetious and serious narratives. For instance, a friend of mine from Delhi once jokingly told me: ‘aap Kashmiri log na dil se Bharat bolte ho na zuban se bolte ho’ meaning, “You Kashmiris neither speak the word ‘Bharat’ by heart nor do you pronounce it correctly”. He was pointing to the aspirated sound [b] which the native Kashmiri speakers cannot pronounce properly; instead, native Kashmiri speakers pronounce it as Barat without aspirated bh. Therefore, from a linguistic-identity assertion, ‘Haider’ is different from the other older Bollywood narratives.
Apart from the articulation of linguistic identity statements, Haider also reflects many other distinct Kashmiri identity symbols like ‘baand-pather’- Kashmiri folk theatre, ‘wanwun’-traditional Kashmiri marriage songs, instruments like ‘tumbakhnaari’- typical Kashmiri instrument women use only, ‘ sarangi’ and ‘rabaab’- Kashmiri violin, ‘kehwa’--special traditional green tea, ‘pheran’- the traditional Kashmiri attire, ‘samavaar’- metal container traditionally used to boil and keep tea hot, ‘karakuli’- a triangular hat made from the fur of sheep, ‘rista’- a popular Kashmiri cuisine (meatballs in a fiery red gravy), ‘chai paiIla’- traditional Kashmiri cups for tea, and which no Bollywood movie has paid attention so far.
Crackdown:
The film exposes a crucial aspect of harassment of common masses by the security agencies on the pretext of search operation- ‘crackdown,’ the ‘biggest tragedy’ that took place in the mid-1990s. During the peak of militancy, the early morning news from the adjacent towns used to be dominated by the crackdowns, cordons, encounters, bomb blasts, raids, cross-firing and ambushes between the military and armed militants. For the fear of being caught in a possible crackdown, many people used to sleep in open fields far away from their homes. To terrorize locals, in many such crackdowns, the men in uniform (Armed forces), will pick up a random person, torture him in front of the entire public of the area, the crowd will listen his cries helplessly and feel humiliated. I assume that in a generation that has lived through such traumatic events in the 1990s, the memories are potent—and sufficient to provoke the Kashmiri populace to violent incidents such as ‘stone-pelting’ against the Indian security forces at a moment's notice. In this context, as I see it, the innumerable ‘stone-pelting’ events from 2008 and 2010, for instance, were not the sudden, ‘flash’ uprisings that they appeared to be but involved deep-rooted memories of the atrocities and terror of the 1990s.
Disappeared [Husbands] and Half-widows [Wives]:
Haider candidly reveals the theme of ‘disappeared’ there by uncovers the mystery of the term and portrays how it is rather an oxymoron to use the term ‘disappeared’ when it is obvious to everyone who took them away from their homes. For example, Haider’s father turns out to have been “disappeared”. It tries to make a note for the people who always claimed that the people who disappeared in Kashmir crossed the border and went to Pakistan for armed training, and for those who are still unaware that the wives of those disappeared people are called ‘half-widows’. Because these married women are always, in a state of uncertainty whether their husbands are alive or dead but only thing they are sure about their husbands is that they are ‘disappeared’.
Fearful Temporal Voyage: Colours of Freedom
‘Haider’ rightly demonstrates that among the various outcomes of the militancy in Kashmir, one was that to save the lives of their children, many parents, who, because of their socio-economic conditions, otherwise, could not have managed to send their children away from Kashmir, did so. This migration proved rewarding for many who not only saved their lives but also got an accidental opportunity to a good education. A distant relative of mine, who fled from his home to avoid any possible detention by the men in uniform, [after a militant had hidden a gun in his apple orchid, and was later impounded by army], returned with an MBBS degree from Russia. Unthinkable, but it happened!
Nevertheless, no matter wherever and for whatever reason we travel, most of us constantly carry consciously or unconsciously with us a post-conflict anxiety and our discussions are dominated by haunting memories of horror, which we have experienced in Kashmir. Many young Kashmiris still get anxious when they see men in army uniforms anywhere outside Kashmir. Even many Kashmiris residing outside Kashmir reported that they were reluctant to talk freely over the phone, specifically back home to Kashmir. Our dreams are still dominated by the conflict-ridden memories; I dream of crackdowns, identification parades, the army rushing to cordon our locality, cross-firing etc.
The film shows how a family friend suggests Haider’s family to send Haider outside the state so that he can see the ‘colours of India’ and understand how people live outside freely without any fear. In fact, we used to be surprised, as I remember it, how a bus driver in Delhi was not afraid or bothered to give side to an Army vehicle following the bus, an unusual and courageous act for us. Because not stopping bus and avoiding giving side to any vehicle of the armed forces in Kashmir was a death inviting act. For us, it was almost believing unbelievable. Nevertheless, later we realised that their power to terrorize the masses is limited to Kashmir, where they, enjoy freedom granted by New Delhi and treat themselves as deputy-kings!
Moreover, Haider went outside for studies (Aligarh Muslim University), however, his studies were again dominated by ‘freedom issues’ where he studied ‘Revolutionary Poets of British India.’ Many of us who went outside the state during the conflict years for studies, either our discussions or our studies were dominated with ‘Kashmir, problems, sufferings and memories