Anaarkali of Aarah tells us why consent is for everyone

Delightful dialogues, raunchy music, stellar performances make it an important film of our times

There are Bollywood films that embrace the culture of stalking and objectifying women and normalise and glorify it. And then there are those that take this culture, right from its grassroots, and spin it on its head. Mercifully, Anaarkali of Aarah falls squarely in the latter category. Set in Ara, Bihar, it tells the story of Anaarkali, a “folk” Bhojpuri singer and dancer who chooses to fight against her sexual offenders, well-connected men in the government who enjoy the full support of the state police.

Swara Bhaskar plays Anaarkali, an effervescent folk performer who is as proud of her craft as she is of her sexuality. Scenes early into the film establish its refreshing tenor, portraying a strong woman without a male messiah. And this is where Anaarkali goes beyond the Amitabh Bachchan-starrer, Pink. While both deal with the crucial question of consent, Anaarkali has an entire audience listening to her voice, in her words — the men are mere facilitators. 

The true beauty of the film lies in its rustic, raunchy character. While an audience sitting in a metro will find Bhojpuri music funny, it forms the very fabric of society in Bihar. While the songs are, without a doubt, disrespectful to women, director Avinash Das goes beyond a surface critique. He engages with the subject, its various players and the people who consume this “kala” without once alienating them. You will find even women tapping their feet to numbers such as “lehenga jhaanke” and “dunaliya mein jung”. Sitting right in the heartland of sleazy songs and pelvic thrusts, the songs are taken for what they are, laying bare a reality that is not culturally appropriated and normalised in the manner of most Punjabi pop songs.

‘Toh kya ho gaya’ becomes a refrain, which Anaarkali vociferously rejects and fights

While Bhaskar shines as the protagonist of the film, there are moments where her portrayal of a folk singer isn’t rustic enough. Pankaj Tripathi of Gangs of Wasseypur fame acts as a perfect sidekick, battling both his protective instinct for Anaarkali with the impulse to give into the demands of the powers-that-be and save himself from trouble. Though he is shocked by the assumption that Dharmender Chauhan, the politician marvellously essayed by Sanjay Mishra, would think that a singer’s body is up for grabs (quite literally), he is almost willing to give into that notion, too. “Toh kya ho gaya” becomes a refrain, which Anaarkali vociferously rejects and fights.

Anaarkali’s best feature lies in its charming little characters, such as Hariman who helps Anaarkali in Delhi. Each has been given enough room to breathe and though the stage is Bhaskar’s, there’s enough screen time given to other actors to shine through. 

But perhaps the most enjoyable part of the film lies in its dialogues, finding humour, innuendo and double entendre in even the darkest of times. The part where Hariman repeatedly tells Anaarkali to do something “desh ke liye (for the country)” is an endearing example of how the Bihari migrant community supports each other in distant, alien cities. The powerful closing scenes belong to Bhaskar alone, especially with the sterling dialogues she is given. “Ya r**** ho, r**** se kum ya fir biwi, marzi pooch kar haath lagaaiyega (whether it’s a prostitute, less than one or your wife, ask her before you touch her).”