Bold, beautiful and endearing
Bollywood has seldom made any attempt to base its stories on the marginalised. We don’t get to see much of their authentic representation on celluloid.
Anarkali of Arrah is debutant Avinash Das’ bold attempt too. But it’s not something that should keep the popcorn and cola lovers of multiplex visitors away: It throws light on the lewd and rigid nexus between the powerful (politicians, policemen) and some of the lowly deprived category of earners who struggle hard to earn respect.
Anarkali (Swara Bhaskar) has taken over the role that her dancermother had all along performed: that of an erotic dancer in the small hamlet of Arrah in Bihar. In shockingly tragic circumstances, her mother was shot dead during a performance by an inebriated neta, who cared to flaunt his rifle as she pirouetted on stage.
Anarkali has inherited all her mother’s talent for dance and music, which she clearly hones every day as her choir of musicians gathers at her place for rehearsals. She makes full use of her sexuality to woo men and has the entire Arrah eating out of her hand. She is supported by Rangeela (Pankaj Tripathy), who besides acting as her manager, carries a torch for her. But make no mistake, neither Anarkali nor Rangeela are in this profession because they have been forced to: it’s out of her own free will that she turned to singing those loud spicy lewd songs.
Things turn ugly as a crooked, dishonest policeman (Sanjay Mishra) by way of right to his power and position, stakes a claim to Anarkali’s body.
Das’ script unabashedly throws light on some of these men and women who may be considered crass by other city-bred dwellers, and gives them their meaningful gravitas too. Throughout the account of Anarkali, there are scenes and dialogues that could be straight out of any boorish uncouth occupants of a rustic shanty.
Music plays an integral part of the film with lilting songs and bawdy lyrics. Not your typical arrangement, the orchestration too, is made to be a trifle jarring in tune with the theme of the film. But the film never looks too “adult” perhaps, for the fear of the censors’ axe could guard morality that could befall any scene, line or film’s dialogues these days.
Swara Bhaskar finally lands up with a role that she could sink her teeth into. The only thing that jars in the film is the tooeager-to-confront-anyone attitude that Anarkali possesses. Could an unpolished woman display so much nerve and bravado? May be not, but then Anarkali does get it back when she dares to defy.
— AB