Caste dynamics that shape life

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.

 

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.

 

 Rishika dhakal

 kathmandupost