At the end of Kabir Khan’s 2012 Eid release, Ek Tha Tiger, when Tiger (Salman Khan), is accused of being a traitor for falling in love with the enemy, a Pakistani ISI agent Zoya (Katrina Kaif), he replies: “Jab pyaar ho raha tha, toh kissi ne bataya nahiN ke yeh dushman hai, aur jab pyaar ho gaya, toh samajh nahiN aaya ke yeh dushman kyuN hai”.
Salman Khan’s Eid’s offering this year, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, takes the same message forward, but this time so much more potently. Here, the Pakistani girl who makes him rethink his prejudices is a mute six-year old child from Azad Kashmir who gets lost in India. Pawan, a simple-minded Hanuman bhakt, mistakes her for a Brahmin because she is “doodh jaisi gori” and takes her under his wing. By the time he discovers Munni’s citizenship and religion (after she cheers for the Pakistani cricket team and kisses the national flag on the television screen on Pakistan’s victory) it is too late: Pawan, who once recoiled at the idea of “Mohammadans”, non-vegetarian food and mosques, promises to get Munni to Pakistan to her family without any passport, visa or assistance from diplomatic missions in the two countries. For him, the choice is simple: his religious beliefs teach humanity and compassion above all else, and in this situation the only right thing to do is to take Munni home, regardless of whether she is Indian or Pakistani, from his own caste or that of the so-called “enemy”.
After crossing the border illegally (but not without “permission”), Pawan and Munni are greeted with kindness from the many strangers they meet along their way to her village in Kashmir. Be it army officers patrolling the border, a struggling reporter, a maulvi sahib at a local seminary or passengers in a bus, they all risk their lives to help Pawan take Munni home. For them, Pawan is not the “enemy” who has illegally entered their country, but “Bajrangi Bhaijaan” – a friend, an inspiration and a hero. For them, patriotism would not mean labeling him an Indian spy and locking him up in a detention center, but instead ensuring that he is able to unite Munni with her family and get home himself. So when Fakhr-e-Alam, chairperson of the Sindh Censor Board, stated that the film was “the most positive film for Pakistan that Bollywood has produced in a long time”, he was not far from the truth.
Harshali Malhotra
Its significance cannot be overstated, especially in the current political climate
Salman Khan was a fitting choice to play Bajrangi –he is, after all, Bollywood’s undisputed Bhai, on and off screen. To Salman Khan’s credit, he is not afraid to share substantial screen space with others, and this is where the strength of the film lies. Bajrangi Bhaijaan, which relies so heavily on getting the audiences to emotionally invest in Munni’s story, would perhaps not be so effective if her role was not played so brilliantly by the angelic Harshali Malhotra. She is truly spectacular – her tears make you cry, her smile tugs at your heartstrings, and even where the plot becomes clichéd and stretched, you continue to cheer Pawan on just so that he can take her home.
Nawazuddin Siddiqui plays Chand Nawab (yes, the character is inspired by our very own Chand Nawab from the Karachi Eid video that went viral a few years ago) to perfection, as is expected from the fine actor. Om Puri, the humanist maulvi sahib, Meher Vij, Shahida’s mother, all make an impact. Kareena Kapoor Khan will probably gain the least from the film. Her immaculate Manish Malhotra costumes are what one remembers after the film is over, not her portrayal of Rasika, something that should be a cause of concern for the actor who once was a powerhouse performer in films like Jab We Met, Omkara and Chameli.
Nawazuddin Siddiqui playing Pakistani reporter Chand Nawab
Bajrangi Bhajaan is not just about a lost child’s reunion with her family. It carries a powerful message of compassion over hate, peace over war, and humanity over all else. It is simplistic, unsophisticated, and at times overly melodramatic, but it works. And the significance of this message in both India and Pakistan cannot be overstated, especially in the current political climate.
Yes, the accents and enunciations of the Pakistani characters could have been better researched; the editing could have been crisper; Salman Khan could have been a better actor; and the final scene, particularly Munni’s miraculous “Jai Sri Ram” chant, was quite unnecessary. But the film is much larger than these flaws. When superstar Salman Khan, in a big-budget, big-banner commercial film reaches out to every corner in Pakistan,India and abroad to expose everyday bigotry and makes people uneasy about their own prejudices, the weaknesses of the film, which are many, pale in comparison.
A scene from the film
The film is much larger than its flaws
This, of course, would come as a huge disappointment to certain propagandists who tirelessly campaigned to ban the film from releasing in Pakistan. From the vicious –that the film is “anti-Pakistan” and spreads hatred about its people and institutions, to the laughably ridiculous – that Nawazuddin portrays the role of an “evil” ISI agent, many such rumors were circulated against Bajrangi Bhaijaan. Yet, once again, the record box office numbers of the film in Pakistan and the audiences’ whole-hearted embrace of the film despite all the negative publicity are the best indicators that the campaign failed and how. With Bajrangi Bhaijaan, love conquered hate on and off celluloid.
Tailpiece: After Shahid Kapoor’s Haider, Bajrangi Bhaijaan is the second film in recent years to become shrouded in legal battles and controversies in both India and Pakistan: In India, petitions alleged the film hurt the sentiments of Hindus, and in Pakistan, petitioners argued that Bajrangi Bhaijaan violated Pakistan’s sovereignty and integrity. These self-appointed thaikidaars of religion and patriotism on both sides of the border should relax. Like the Indian Supreme Court said in its order dismissing a petition challenging Aamir Khan’s PK: “if you don’t like it, then don’t watch it”.
The writer can be reached at reema.omer@gmail.com. Twitter: @reema_omer
