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When director Pradeep Sarkar attempted to portray the travails of a young girl forced into prostitution in his movie Laaga Chunari Mein Daag (LCMD), critics were outraged. Labelling the movie “reactionary” and “regressive”, they also took offence at the glossing over of the harsh and desperate lives of these shadowy women. It was perhaps a sign of the increasing maturity of a certain segment of Bollywood, but the hapless director was only honouring the long tradition in Hindi films of depicting commercially exploited women in a paradoxical and hypocritical manner.

We have a historical tradition of courtesans and ‘nautch’ girls and the Devdasi system could have been expressly created to keep the elite with a steady supply of helpless women. But our attitudes to this social construct have always been prurient and taboo-filled and our movies have reflected the prevailing cultural sentiments.

Starting with Chandramukhi in Devdas , the commercial sex worker in Hindi movies has usually been depicted with a heart of gold, forced into her profession by circumstances beyond her control. All she is looking for is a pure-hearted hero to redeem her. Devdas ends with Chandramukhi renouncing her profession to become a nun, clad in a white sari – symbolising her return to a state of purity.

Bending to cultural mores, our movies stopped short of rehabilitating the sex worker. Devdas conveniently dies after espousing his affection for Chandramukhi.

In the blockbuster Muqaddar ka Sikandar, Zohrabai, played by Rekha, kills herself at the end of a story about unrequited love. In Umrao Jaan, the cultured courtesan, it’s Rekha again, realises sadly that her profession has barred her from any possibility of a respectable future. Only in Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa did the failed poet walk away into the sunset with Gulabo.

In these movies, the commercial sex worker was usually well dressed, musically accomplished, sympathetic and did well for herself financially, often supporting the hero who was down on his luck and love.

In the 1970s, B.R. Ishaara’s Chetna broke open the door to a more realistic and sensitive look at prostitution. Seema, a prostitute played by Rehana Sultana, wears skimpy clothes, smokes and drinks and is given to suggestive gestures.

Attempts to rehabilitate her by marriage fail. The movie prompted several spin-offs with similar plots such as Charitra, also directed by Ishaara, Bazaar Band Karo and Call Girl.

Whether the motivation was cashing on an adult theme that allowed directors to titillate their audiences under the pretext of making ‘socially responsible’ movies or simply a desire to make offbeat fare is anybody’s guess.

Very few movies have shown prostitution as a profession undertaken by choice. Manoranjan, a remake of Irma La Douce, was probably the only movie where the lady of the night was neither ashamed nor regretful.

Zeenat Aman carried off the controversial role with aplomb, though the movie was not accepted by critics or audiences because of the ‘immorality’.

In general, art-house movies have had a more realistic approach to the grim underbelly of sex workers’ lives. Mandi, a satirical look at prostitution and the other oldest profession in the world, politics, stripped the subject to its most elemental and unvarnished state.

In Gulzar’s Mausam, an impoverished Sharmila is forced into prostitution when her mother dies and she is molested by a male relative. (Her realistic mannerisms and costume earned her a National Award for her performance).

Madhur Bhandarkar’s Chandni Bar exposed the fragile lives of the dancing girls of Mumbai.

A movie titled Chameli also attempted a more realistic approach to the subject, though the effort was spoiled by the casting of the glamorous Kareena Kapoor as the (golden-hearted, once again) streetwalker.

The portrayal of sex workers in the movies has come a long way since the days of Chandramukhi and Gulabo. While there was a phase in which moviemakers sought to get racy scenes passed by disguising them in plots involving the ‘bad girl’, today’s heroines dress in skimpier clothes and perform more revealing scenes than any fallen woman ever did in the past. This frees moviemakers to attempt a more realistic approach to the subject in mainstream movies, which might explain the critics’ ire with movies like Laaga Chunari Mein Daag.

After Vibhavari, the heroine, is forced to submit to her villainous boss, she miraculously finds a pair of Henry Higgins-like mentors to transform her into a suave, stylish escort. She even finds redemption at the end in the form of a loving and understanding husband.

Audiences and critics alike found the fairy tale a little hard to digest.

After all, why paint the theme glossy when the time is ripe for realism?

VIDYA PRADHAN

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