Remembering Shyam Benegal’s ‘Ankur’: A Film of Timeless Relevance

Ankur (1974) won three National Film Awards and was nominated for the Golden Bear at 24th Berlin International Film Festival.

According to The Independent, “the deeply impressive lead performance by Shabana Azmi demonstrates Ankur as one of the most mature and compelling films the Indian cinema has to offer”. For the Time Out reviewer, the film “recalled the modest realism of Satyajit Ray”.

Ankur signifies the first seedling of the new wave cinema by highlighting tensions in the socio-political fabric of a feudal Andhra Village. It should be treated as a cult cinema of this genre, which did not have the songs, the melodrama, and the exaggeration one was used to see in a customary Hindi Movie.

Acclaimed director Shyam Benegal’s debut film, released in 1974, reflects the intricacies of caste, class, and gender, and thereby analyses the very nature of the human character, fluctuating loyalties, vices of Indian society and voices of silent rebellion.

Also read: Shyam Benegal: The Guardian of New Wave Cinema

Set in late 1940s India, the movie combines many elements to weave a narrative which reflects the sensibilities of its own time on one hand and intelligently deploys the historical background to provide authenticity and logical reasoning to the narrative at the same time.

The film contains an explicit reference to the peasants’ movement, initially led by the CPI(M). The state of Andhra Pradesh has had its own struggle with peasant-landlord relations in terms of various peasant rebellion in the area, whereas, the 1970s have been remarkable in Indian socialist history with the advent of Naxalbari movement and its far-reaching acceptance in the tribal hinterlands of the country.

The Plot

Lakshmi, a poor Dalit woman lives in a rural village, with her unemployed husband, Kishtayya, who is hearing and speech impaired. The local zamindar of the village sends his newly married son, Surya, to manage the farmland. Reluctantly, Surya obeys his father. He employs Lakshmi and her husband to work for him in the village. Surya lives alone because his new bride (debutant Priya Tendulkar) is still a child. He soon finds himself attracted to Lakshmi, who struggles to deal with her alcoholic husband. Things take a turn for the worse when Surya’s wife comes to stay with him. And Lakshmi, who is now carrying Surya’s child, is ultimately left abandoned by Surya in the name of feudal honour and prestige.

Cast/characters

The movie revolves around Surya, the flamboyant young son of the zamindar, played brilliantly by Anant Nag, and the low caste, sort of untouchable, potter woman Lakshmi, played by debutant Shabana Azmi. These two characters essentially signify the sort of deep-seated inequality of class, status, perception, power, and privileges. The other characters of the film can be placed well within these two parallels, yet starkly different groups.

Surya, has lived his life under the shadow of his domineering father, being made to live in a village where he does not belong. He is arrogant, jealous, rebellious, coward, sensitive, and selfish, all at the same time and the various shades of his character have been beautifully brought forward.

Shabana Azmi, as Lakshmi, adapted to the character so well that in the film, she becomes Lakshmi herself. Her performance is compelling, driven more by her eyes than by the dialogue delivery. Her character arc is brilliant as she internalises the injustices inflicted on her being a Dalit woman, but at the same time, she shows the strength of her character.

Sadhu Meher, as Kishtayaa, playing the role of deaf and dumb husband of Lakshmi, is the most vulnerable of the lot. The audience cannot help but feel sympathy and a stab of revulsion when he is beaten up by Surya. Meher’s phenomenal acting brought him the Best Actor’s National Award for this film.

Craft and specialities

The motif of ‘Ankur’ – which means a seedling – used by Benegal makes various appearances, both physically and metaphorically in the film. For instance, in the very first scene, a village woman appears to offer the seedling of fruit to the goddess while Lakshmi prays for a child. So, Ankur here becomes the allegory for the child that Lakshmi desires. Whereas, on a larger level, the director has used Ankur as a metaphor for a change in the existing oppressive feudal rural milieu.

The movie is multi-layered and nuanced. It mainly delves on the balance of power and privilege and that too, not in terms of a codified hero-villain or black & white theme, but involves a deeper sense of understanding and maturity.

Benegal’s direction shows an excellent understanding of his cinematic craft and an unparalleled command over storytelling in his very first film. He creates a minutely detailed microcosmic world where various macro forces of feudal power structures and gender oppression are played out. The director has, throughout, maintained the realist aesthetic while dealing with the multiple layered issues of feudal oppression. Benegal’s sensitivity is reflected particularly in his portrayal of women as they are directed with much empathy and a deeply nuanced view.

The film is full of symbolism. The excellent cinematography of Govind Nihalani captures the unsaid code of the social relation with utmost symbolism. For instance, in the opening scene there is an acrobat performing in front of a long procession which includes the heroine seeking to propitiate the deity for fertility. Similarly, father-son, intergenerational relation is also projected with realism, and this symbolism continues when his father rejects his ambition to study further, and the director shows the dejected son standing behind a window, its grills appearing more like the bars of a jail.

Also read: Veteran Filmmaker Shyam Benegal Passes Away at 90

The director has got immense success in Ankur in deploying psychological realism and regional authenticity to the accepted narrative style of Indian films. As the actors wore no makeup and were dressed in realistic costumes, the language used in the film is the dialect of Dakhni Urdu – a language that represents the very culture of Deccan areas. All these elements have provided a blatant authenticity to the narrative.

Ankur can also be viewed as a ‘politically inflected melodrama’ considering it was set in 1945 in a feudal state, but the background of the 1970s peasant insurrection gave it a contemporary edge. It takes a hard look at the entrenched caste system. For instance, the villagers of the potter caste in the film are shown to celebrate a separate festival for themselves. Though Surya seems to renegotiate and challenge the cast rigidities initially, when he decides to have food cooked by Lakshmi, a Dalit, much against the dismay of the village priest. However, the deeply entrenched caste system remains all-pervasive and engulfing.

Similarly, Benegal has also highlighted the economic aspect of a rural landscape, which has been witnessing the onslaught of urban modernity and its economic consequences. For instance, Kishtayya lost his job because the villagers now buy only aluminum vessels and not the ones made of mud or clay.

The movie also depicts the intersections of caste and gender, as Surya ultimately exploits and oppresses Lakshmi, both on the basis of caste and gender. The village panchayat is depicted as the ultimate decision-maker of the community. The sarpanch forces Rajamma, who wanted a divorce from her impotent husband, to go back to him and clearly mentions that a woman does not only belong to her husband but the entire household, caste, and community.

However, the seeds of change have been sown in Ankur,  when as the final act of rebellion a small boy throws a stone at the landlord’s window, is an act of defiance together with the blood-red screen that ends the film suggesting the anger and frustration felt by the otherwise mute peasants towards their oppressive feudal masters and effectively point to silent subversion of the power equation.

Though the movie may not be an easy-breezy watch, it is an urgent one, considering that the language of patriarchy still pervades every aspect of our lives, and women are still treated as mere possession, whereas Dalits are still subjected to horrifying violence.

Aditi Bhardwaj is a doctoral candidate at University of Delhi with interest area of Post Colonial Studies and Partition Literature. She frequently writes for The WireHindi.

A version of this article was published in Zindaginama. Click here to read the original article.