A few days ago, I watched Manthan, a Shyam Benegal movie released in 1976. If I remember correctly, the first time I saw this movie was with Safdar Hashmi, one of the rare young theater icons who was brutally murdered in January 1989. Back then, having completed an M.A. in English Literature from Delhi University in 1975, we would often move around together.
Those were the days when Indira Gandhi had imposed the National Emergency (1975–77), perhaps one reason why Safdar couldn’t fully pursue his passion for street theater, which he had started in 1973 as one of the founders of the CPI-M’s theater wing, Jan Natya Manch. He was in search of a permanent job (though he had started teaching part-time English at a Delhi college), and I, too, was looking for employment.
During the Emergency, however, Safdar’s passion for theater did not wane. A big fan of German playwright Bertolt Brecht, he did everything possible to acquire theater-related knowledge. Unable to pursue street theater, Safdar took me along to a massive sports complex in Haryana at a place strangely called Bisva Meel (20th Mile), where Habib Tanvir, one of India’s finest theater personalities, was conducting a workshop.
We stayed there for two days, watching tribals from Madhya Pradesh rehearse for a play directed by Habib Tanvir. While I simply observed the rehearsals, Safdar actively interacted with Habib Tanvir and the tribal actors who were undergoing training.
I usually didn’t watch movies back then, partly because I couldn’t afford it, except when they were recommended as socially relevant and aligned with what we in the Left considered a class struggle approach. It was with this perspective that Safdar introduced me to my first Shyam Benegal movie — Ankur — which was made in 1974, while we were still pursuing our post-graduation.
Since then, I must have watched Manthan several times, mostly on VCR or CD, as circumstances permitted. On January 1, 1979, I formally entered journalism as a sub-editor for Link, a semi-Left newsweekly published alongside the daily Patriot, after resigning as assistant editor of People’s Publishing House, owned by the CPI. Two years after the movie’s release, John Dayal, then chief reporter of Patriot and now a prominent human rights leader, reviewed Manthan.
I don’t remember what others wrote about the movie in Link or Patriot during those days. However, John Dayal’s review struck me and remains somewhat fresh in my memory. I don’t recall whether it was published in Patriot or Link, but it was sharply critical, describing Manthan as a propaganda movie for Gujarat’s most well-known milk cooperative federation, which still markets several dairy products under the Amul brand.
Watching the movie again the other day on a TV channel commemorating Shyam Benegal’s passing, I was reminded of John Dayal’s 1979 critique. Since I still exchange messages with him, I asked him on WhatsApp whether he stood by his scathing assessment of Manthan as a propaganda piece for Amul.
.jpeg) |
| Safdar Hashmi |
Soft on the system? That too in Manthan, just because it was made during the Emergency and supported by Amul? Neither Safdar, who was far more critical of the Emergency than I was, nor I felt that way. We saw it as a sharp commentary on the powerful exploiter class attempting to undermine the fledgling experiment of an Amul-type milk cooperative in rural Gujarat.
The movie shows how a socially conscious government official's insistence that poor Dalits must be included for the cooperative to have any meaning ends with two simultaneous developments. On one hand, the powerful rural exploiters, who initially attack and later try to cajole the Dalits into submission, successfully lobby for the transfer of the government official. On the other hand, the movie offers hope: a group of Dalits decides to proceed with the cooperative experiment on their own, defying the powerful interests and claiming it as theirs.
While it is true that the movie was supported by Amul, with the acknowledgment clearly displayed at the beginning and end, at no point does it give the impression of supporting the system. On the contrary, it portrays the challenges faced by Dalits as they confront the entrenched interests of the rural elite. It also highlights the transformative potential of the awareness sparked by the government official, even after he is forced out.
Comments