Nepal: ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ delivers compelling performances, though melodrama sometimes outweighs realism.
Directed by Saroj Paudel, ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ is a film teetering on melodrama that could even make the most demanding audience reach for tissues.
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| purna bahadurko sarangi poster |
The
movie opens up with the daughter asking her father (Prakash Saput) about her
grandfather, Purna Bahadur (Bijay Baral). As the son recounts his memories, we
witness Purna’s life. Set in a village with a mud house, we meet Purna, often
referred to as “Purney” by the villagers, who earns his livelihood by singing
and playing sarangi.
Through
singing and playing his Sarangi Purney, in a musical battle, he wins over his
future wife, Batuli (Anajana Baraili), and marries her, leaving his romantic
rival, Harka, jealous. Strong scenes in the films bring the harsh realities of
society to the forefront, making the audience flinch. Batuli’s family conducting
her funeral rites just because she gets married to someone of another caste
portrays the harsh realities of society.
Years
pass, and Batuli gives birth to a child, Kancha (Swayam KC). I want to take a
moment to praise KC’s acting. Even at such a young age, his performance is
impressive and deserves recognition. Purney wishes the child to follow in his
footsteps by playing the Sarangi, while Batuli does not want her child to make
a living out of begging. Purna’s desire to pass on the Sarangi to his son
reflects pride in their heritage and a resignation from the caste constraints
that define their identity.
The
film's inciting incident occurs when Purna’s father dies, and Batuli leaves
Purney, taking Kancha to Kathmandu with Harka in hopes of a better future. Only
the son returns to his father. As an audience, I thought the film would portray
Batuli in the typical trope of villainising women for prioritising and taking
bold actions for themselves. Instead, the movie represents Batuli as a woman
who rejects a life of dependency and degradation and chooses instead to carve a
new path for herself and her son.
Casting
Batuli as the female protagonist, the movie, by adding the nuances of realism
in the screenplay, tries to uncover instances of patriarchy within a typical
family household. For example, Purna is absent from his house during
significant occasions, such as when his wife goes into labour and gives birth. The
scene depicting Batuli’s labour pain is brilliantly crafted as it portrays that
her suffering isn't just from the physical pain of childbirth but also from the
emotional ache of her husband’s absence during such a crucial moment.
The
movie's cinematography is notable as the camera allows each character’s
emotional depth to shine. A scene with Batuli washing her face and drinking
water is presented as a sexual innuendo hinting at Harkey’s longing to be with
her. Similarly, Harkey's henchman’s teasing remark, “Your weapon isn't sharp
enough,” highlights Harkey’s inability to assert himself both sexually and
socially, which further reflects his failure to win over Batuli.
The
language and diction of the movie are equally powerful, which provokes emotions
in the audience to empathise with the sufferings of the marginalised community.
Lines like “Seeudo Bhari Cha Mann Khali" (The forehead is full, but the
heart is empty) depict the emptiness Batuli felt in her marriage. Similarly,
when Purna falls ill, he tells his son, “Okhati k le kinney, ani parikhcya k le
dinchas?" (How will you buy medicine? and how will you pay for exams?)
which perfectly encapsulates the compounded challenges that marginalised
individuals face.
Batuli’s
departure from his life catalyses Purna to make choices that challenge the
status quo. For example, Purna’s decision to send his son to school goes
against the norm that children of his caste should continue the family
tradition. Although he receives criticism from his friends, he is determined to
educate his son.
Throughout
the storyline, we meet with characters representing society’s contradictions or
lacking full character development. For instance, the character of the
principal of Kancha's school seems confusing. At times, he supports Purna’s
desire to educate his son. Still, at other times, he opposes him, even throwing
away the school shirt Kancha is wearing, saying, “Kaapi kalam chyaapne bhaneko
ta hami ho, teslai sarangi banjaauna sika hai.” (We are the ones meant to hold
notebooks and pens; teach him to play sarangi)
After
the interval, the movie loses its charm, spoiling what could have been a
remarkable film. The plot shifts its protagonist focus from Purna to his
grown-up son, played by Prakash Saput. It is no wonder that Saput brings his
over-the-top melodrama to the movie, which dilutes the narrative’s initial
strength. Kancha excels academically, becoming a doctor and topping exams,
fulfilling Purna’s dream of breaking free from caste restrictions. However, the
movie’s heavy emphasis on the continued success of Kancha (as he tops his SLC,
IAC, and MBBS) to defy caste-based limitations comes across as a bit
unrealistic.
If
one has to think practically, how can a Sarangi player afford to send his son
to medical school, even with relentless hard work? The cost of medical school
seemed glossed over in favour of emotional appeal, raising questions about
whether Purna’s hardships were exaggerated for dramatic effect since such
struggles might not be financially feasible.
Other
elements, like Kancha not hearing from his father for eight months despite the
availability of telephones or the villagers performing the funeral rites of
Purna without informing Kancha, test the limits of realism. Given the strong
connection between father and son, it seems unlikely that Purna would remain in
the dark for so long. These narrative choices might have been intended to
heighten the drama but stretched believability.
With
the number of Nepali drama movies I have watched, one common aspect that unites
almost everyone is their objective to make the audience cry. With this trend,
it often seems as if people judge the quality of a movie with its ability to
evoke tears from the audience. The audience seems to adhere to a similar
formula when judging a movie’s worth. Videos on TikTok, for instance, of people
in tears after watching ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ showcase this emotional
approach, placing the film on a pedestal of greatness by viewers.
In
this sense, ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ is a missed opportunity for a more
nuanced approach to storytelling the pain of people belonging to the lower
caste. For someone seeking a balanced narrative, the movie's focus on
exaggerating emotions left me frustrated (or annoyed or vexed).
Apart
from this, Bijay Baral, previously seen in supporting roles, has finally put
his acting skills to the test as the lead character in this film. The movie’s
songs are also worthy of appreciation.
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