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Maathi Maay is a Marathi film directed by Chitra Palekar.

(It took me a week to actually attempt writing about the film. The reasons are aplenty. It is a Marathi film. And considering my track record with writing on films of other languages(I once attempted a Tamil film review and got blasted on many accounts – not writing Tamil as Tamizh, not understanding the ‘nuances’, mentioning all the impertinent things that you would expect in a review, and moreover, celebrate a not-to-be-celebrated film), I would rather tread familiar path with a socio-economic dissection of Singh is king or a public-is-superstitious-reading of Phoonk(I might still do it soon, by the way) or a why-good-cinema-should-be-supported-on-all-accounts-review-of-Mumbai meri Jaan, and hell yeah! Rock on! How can I miss that! The forgiven not forgotten stage dream of the Peter England variety. So ignorant of me. But leaving the pertinence or eligibility aside, I would still like to attempt it, given the powerful effect the film had on me. )

Maati Maay is essentially a rural tale set in any Indian village post independence. Well, to drill deeper, it is based in a Marathi village in 50’s. The film opens like any NFDC film and hammers its approach with one brilliant opening silhouetted shot of the grave digger/keeper. It soon takes us to the setting- the village, Narsu,the grave keeper going about his business and Bhagirath(Kshitij Gavande), his son, going to a school and faring rather well, the subtle digs at the social taboos, how Narsu nurses a heartfelt dream of Bhagirath redeeming them, his secret alliances with the unclaimed corpse-peddler(very realistically captured), and so on, until they confront a Ghoul, a specter/witch/evil spirit. The Ghoul evokes a predictable response in Bhagirath, as trickled down from the upbringing of Narsu, and both of them seem equally horrified at this atrocity of their times(only initially though, but a sense of intrigue is triggered through the brilliantly expressive eyes of the father, a touch of familiarity with the evil spirit). The story moves on. Narsu wants to celebrate Bhagirath’s little success in school and together they take the road to buy some meat. On their way back, its late evening, and the fear of the Ghoul haunts them back. Only this time, Narsu breaks down and reveals the best kept secret of Bhagirath’s childhood. The Ghoul is Chandi, his wife and Bhagirath’s mother. We are taken to a flashback into how Chandi is a beautiful young woman from the lower caste and belongs to an ancestral tree of grave keepers. There is a particularly brilliant sequence when she narrates the folklore of Raja Harishchandra and how he lost/gave up all his material possessions and became a grave keeper and hence started their ‘family business’. This part of the story establishes grave-keeping as a noble task, and justifies Chandi’s belief in what she does is nothing but a sacred duty to her ancestors. What she is doing is an act of pride. We get to see two of the best actors of our times – Nandita Das & Atul Kulkarni in one of their finest and true to life portrayals in these roles. And their chemistry is startling. They belong in this very village the film lives in.

As their life progresses and they have a son, Bhagirath, there is a little but controllable change in their lives. The change begins to register its presence slowly, and that is where the film takes fantastically complex proportions, and works on so many levels – social taboos, morbid dark themes of ‘The Dead’ living underneath ‘The Living’, a secluded family which is technically detached from the society but yet an ironically indispensable part of it, this very detached family which understands its stature and role in the entire scheme and pretty much goes about their lives well until their son connects them and makes them look back at the society with hopes of a little help and acknowledgement. This intertwining of threads attribute a finer tone to the film, and one moves on from reacting a linear narrative to the much intriguing themes that the text aims at.
I would leave the story here, as I would like you to enjoy the mindgames the film plays with you.

If I were to pick 3 poignant scenes – they would be one where Chandi faces a mental demon of the superstitious fear her occupation garners and her own love for her son. In this sequence, one forgets the shoddy capture and technique and is sucked in to the mind of Chandi – who should she follow? Her ancestors or the pressing needs of her son’s upbringing? Her duties towards her family(a little conflicted because her husband wants her to continue doing what she does and her son is too young to give an opinion) or the society that chooses to turn a blind eye at the facts for the sake of convenience? This pretty much lays the foundation of the things to follow. There is bound to be conflicts and conflicts do follow. And that forms the other two powerful sequences – one with her husband and the one where she becomes a Ghoul for reasons open for interpretations. Nandita Das steals the show with her horrifying real depiction, and Atul Kulkarni evokes all the right emotions in you – sympathy at first to later transform to disgust at an irresponsible and not-standing-up-to-his-duties-father.

The film is based on a short story, Baayen by Mahasweta Devi. The short story is in Bengali which was adapted for the screen by Chitra Palekar.

The film, apart from telling a heart-wrenching tale remarkably well with superlative performances and seamless narrative, does the almost impossible task of presenting a perspective without taking sides. It is essentially a wounded women’s sweet revenge (the strange justice of destiny) on the society but manifests itself through man-woman relationships, woman-woman relationship (standing on two sides of the social divide; there is some interesting themes touched upon here with regards to the rural Indian approach towards the girl child), the love between a woman and a girl child, and hence, is deeply philosophical and evocative at once while entertaining at the same time.
Its amazing how it took me some time to sink the film in and absorb its many themes and react to them as and when I thought about them. Like the theme of dignity. The woman is under scrutiny by the society for being untruthful to her job – of grave-keeping. But this is the very job that she fought and snatched from the very society. And while she battles and these inner and outer demons, her husband can’t take a stance and it’s too late before he does. And the filmmaker anoints the goings-on with such fine texture that you are made to think about all these aspects irrespective of whether you relate to the rural bygone theme or not. And this delivers a universal quality to the film.

Coming to another theme that got me, I can hardly think of an Indian film (probably I need to see more Indian cinema) that explores the element of the morbid, or the dead Vs the living, and yet being so indifferent about it. When Maati Maay began, I thought here we have just the right plot – graves! But my predictions were to be shattered and quite literally, buried in the film to follow. And that not only underlined the significance of the theme but gave it a unique unexplored charm to it. Just like it happens in case of few things you wish could be explored more in a film but they don’t and you come out partially satisfied and hungry for more in a way that it invokes your imagination and your memories of the film. It’s like the market scene in Jodha Akbar, or the man in the broken factory in No Smoking, or the lady with the dog in Dil Se, or even the ticket seller in Talladega Nights, if you will.

Bhagirath, played with a surrendering charm by Kshitij Gavande, is instrumental to the film in the scenes where he registers his ‘growing-up’ and when he speaks to an ex-mother through the image in the river water, an able metaphor for the social prejudices still prevalent in rural India, and the climactic situation where he truly brings the much needed sense of ‘justice’ to the plot.

I would like to conclude with these memorable lines by Mahasweta Devi:

I have always believed that the real history is made by ordinary people. I constantly come across the reappearance, in various forms, of folklore, ballads, myths and legends, carried by ordinary people across generations….The reason and inspiration for my writing are those people who are exploited and used, and yet do not accept defeat. For me, the endless source of ingredients for writing is in these amazingly, noble, suffering human beings. Why should I look for my raw material elsewhere, once I have started knowing them? Sometimes it seems to me that my writing is really their doing.

Acknowledgements & links:

Video Interview with Chitra Palekar

Awards - Nandita Das

‘Prix du jury Graine de Cinephage Award’ Feature films category -30th Creteil’s International Women’s Film Festival (Festival International de Films de Femmes de Creteil),Paris, France.

India EU film initiative article

One of a Rare Tribe - Outlook interview with Mahasweta Devi

Independence has failed - Rediff interview with Mahasweta Devi

Mahasweta Devi - Biography

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