Sir

Written and directed by Rohena Gera, it is a film about hope: the hope to be free, to be independent and to be happy. Something that is not guaranteed or even easy to attain for a woman in India. The times are changing, but there is still a strict class division in Indian society and these classes have more than one dimension. It is more than just the income that divides the people and causes rifts that separate rich from poor, the educated from the uneducated (or what we believe to be uneducated), women from men. Within this field of tension, the film establishes a tentative relationship between a young widow from the country, who is trying to become a seamstress, and the pampered young man she serves. She is paid by his doting parents– though they have little screen time and only act as a driving force, as an emphasis of the existing gulf between him and his servant Ratna, brought to a trembling life by Tillotama Shome. Their social circles only show the differences between the two main characters. He is the toast of the high-society, a good friend and even better match for the girls of his social circle and beyond that, whereas Ratna is crafty but poor and without any formal education, a nobody to his parents and his friends.

What I love about this film is the unpolished un-Bollywood-ish look and feel it has. It is quiet, careful and it feels real. Without much ado, it follows the humble life of Ratna, who becomes a widow at 19. This event ends her social life due to the strict moral codes imposed upon widows. It is a set of rules, deeply rooted in the belief of dharma. The dharma is a set of stages a human goes through in life and to which a corresponding set of goals one must achieve to have one’s karma in order, so to say, is tied – #lifegoals, just around 2000-4000 years old. What this means is that, if you become a bride, your goal in this is to serve your husband, bear him children and later accompany him into hermitage when this stage of his life comes. This is Ratna’s dharma, too, and if she fails to fulfil it (i.e. bearing her husband children, taking care of him) it is considered her fault. This point is especially made clear and shown in another film: Water by Deepa Metha, which is another serious film tip of mine and a must-see! The death of the husband is considered the wife’s fault and since she cannot fulfil her dharma in this life anymore, she must wait for another, even if she is only nine years old. Better luck next time… But back to Ratna and her troubles.

As Ashwin finds out that his bride-to-be, or Madam, as Ratna deferentially calls her, has had an affair while he was away in America, he leaves her at the altar and returns home to his stylish, yet comfortably furnished flat in a modern skyscraper. He understands why Sabina has had the affair because he did not love her enough. His proposal to her was more out of a sense of obligation than out of love and she needed more. This is a very unusual stance toward the situation and is contrasted by the more conventional view of his peers. He is uninterested in his servants, at first, which is partly due to his sadness and because he does not know any better. In general, he is a better master than others. He says thank you, when she offers him food etc., defends her and consoles her when his friends or family behave coarsely, and Ratna even has her own room to which she can withdraw after her work is done. But while she is supposed to not want anything anymore, she dreams of becoming a seamstress or even a fashion designer. Ashwin allows her to visit a course to that end, which is really generous of him (*irony off*) and then starts to become interested in her and her life. He is astounded at the difference in their realities and cannot believe the situation to be as bad as Ratna says. As their relationship progresses from flatmates to hesitant lovebirds, he asks her repeatedly to call him by his given name and not his title, which would blur the boundaries between their ranks, their social classes and genders even more. He falls in love with the “patent” woman, who is life-wise instead of educated and vain like the girls his friends and parents want him to fall for. Her quiet, unassuming presence, her care for him and his needs beyond what she is supposed to do – such as hiding the wedding presents out of sight so that Ashwin is not reminded of his unfaithful nearly-wife, answering the phone and denying his presence so that he does not have to talk to the unfaithful one – endear her to him because he notices them. She also tries to cheer him up with her own story, of how the death of her husband failed to end her life though it should have according to the code, and unwittingly makes him interested in herself. He begins to take an interest, to care, to read her moods. And they have these small conversations, these little moments, which are sometimes sweet, sometimes a bit awkward.

One of my favourite scenes is when he comes home, without knowing that a very snobbish fashion designer has thrown her out of her shop after one derisive look at Ratna and that she is deeply hurt by this. Ashwin enquires after her dreams and she reacts hurt to everything he says because she feels mocked and he has no idea what hit him. But instead of being angry at her, he buys a glossy fashion magazine for her, telling her that everybody should be allowed to dream of anything.

Another scene comes relatively shortly afterwards: A very unabashed girl comes one morning out of his bedroom to be greeted by a suddenly disappointed (or even hurt) Ratna, asks for a glass of water and then simply leaves. She shows some awkwardness, but nothing more. In contrast, Ashwin’s walk of shame, when comes out of his bedroom and sees Ratna, is epic. This scene is short, yet intimate and very well played by the actors. They manage to completely fuse with their roles and make themselves disappear.

Since he cannot live in the flat where she is not (his father suspects him of sleeping with Ratna and says so), he leaves for America. When she realises that he is behind the job at the fashion designer’s studio, the opportunity of her lifetime, she wants to visit him, to thank him, though Ratna has always declined his offers for help because she wants to stand on her own two feet without being in someone’s debt, especially to someone like Ashwin who could use this easily as leverage. Tillotama Shome manages to display the mixture of reluctance, shame, hope and determination that governs Ratna’s life. It is impossible not to fear and hope with her and to pray that her dreams come true, that their love may yet be! Even though she broke the ties to Ashwin when she moved out of the flat, the viewer hops that this has not been it, that this, whatever this is, is not over, yet. When Ratna discovers the locked door of his apartment, she despairs a little, for she wanted to thank him for this opportunity, feeling sorry for her refusal and, naturally, her pining for him made her want to see him once again. Despondent, she flees to the roof of the building to think (and maybe cry a little bit). She then takes out her mobile phone – I was already at the edge of my seat – and calls a number. The viewer can hear his voice and then Ratna does not say anything. She fights with herself a few too-long seconds before she finally dares to say his NAME.

Be still my heart.