Writing about Jhund is a challenging task, not only for what it represents on the screen but also for the coded inter-textuality that demands worthy attention. It is the filmmaker’s curse to carry the expectations and the bar set by their previous films.
In that regard, Nagraj Manjule’s film is not Fandry (2014) or Sairat (2016); Jhund is not one film, it doesn’t want to be– it represents the multitude of life stories woven through the people of slums.
It is hard to fit Jhund into one genre or plot; it attempts to take on many subjects, but at its core, it remains a standalone film that voices questions, reflects injustices, and partially transcends that reality through football as a medium.
Jhund is a story of the young generation who live up to the typical making-of slums; they drink, fight, steal, and carry on with their lives. The stories of slums have been told time and again in regional, national, as well as international cinema; to the extent that they’ve even won Oscars.
But is that all?
What does it do for the slum dwellers or for the audience, except for (re)affirming the already associated stereotypes?
Jhund Is A Daring Film
It comes and swoops those voyeuristic narratives with an honest, humanising effort. The film features the ‘ever angry-young man’ Amitabh Bachchan in the humble role of a middle class retired professor.
Yet, he doesn’t come off as a saviour; a one-man army who will cast away evil and turn conflict into a victory. He simply brings football into a basti, mobilises the kids, empowers them, and dares to show a dream that only they can fulfil after redeeming themselves.
Nagraj is a conscious filmmaker who knows the dearth of opportunities available for anti-caste filmmakers like him in the mainstream. He is quite unabashed about his politics and wastes no time in setting the caste-class location of his characters, its gender intersection, and the representation of social justice that lies at the core of these values.
A complete song filmed to visualise Dr Ambedkar Jayanti is one such rare example, experienced never before by Bollywood masses.
Watching Jhund is taking a walk along the paths, pavements, gullies that we’ve always been through, but never really cared to look at the people who occupy them.
We’re so blinded by personal life and aspirations that the people on the margins seem insignificant like they don’t contribute to our lives in ways that will benefit us. Yet these are the people who make our housekeepers, domestic workers, security guards, drivers, cleaners, etc., but it’s easy to pretend that they don’t exist or matter.
Jhund is an effort that offers an eye to watch their lives, extends an ear to listen their stories, and caresses the heart to see them as they are -flawed- but complete humans.
The Story Of A Communities Struggling To Be Citizens
At the literal and metaphorical level, it is the story of a broken society, divided into binaries of impure-pure, illiterate-literate, slum-society, wildly-civilised, untouchables-upper castes, oppressed-oppressors.
All set on common earth, fragmented into several hundred pieces of caste and class divide.
The supposed ‘civil’ society and the slum are divided by a single wall; representing the worst and the best of two worlds.
The film touches on the complicated matters of political debates like nationalism, citizenship bills with sheer genius and extraordinary subtlety.
A small kid innocuously asks, “Yeh Bharat kya hai? (What is bharat?)”, another one replies, “Ye Bharat matlab apna gaddi goddam” (Our slum only is India). Such an open-ended response opens up the decades, if not centuries-old contestation over the history of this nation.
In another scene, a father-daughter duo from Denotified Tribe of Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli is shown roaming from shops, stations, schools, offices, to ‘digital literacy centres’ just so they could find a certificate that proves they’ve taken birth in this land and are its citizens. Such is the nature of citizenship laws that puts the burden of proof on the citizens.
Entering the film hall, one is unsure of how things will unfold considering everyone except Amitabh and a few others are debutants. The story does take time to unpack, it doesn’t give away itself so fast. In the beginning, certain scenes look stretchy. Towards the middle and end, the climax undergoes an arc that feels unnecessary and a bit confusing, demanding patience.
For an entertaining film that runs over 170 minutes, the discography of only 15 minutes feels a bit underwhelming; it leaves you craving for more but to no avail. However, the film retains the originality of its setting, the characters feel at home with acting and dialogues are spoken in Nagpuri dialect— Varhadi mixed Hindi.
The comic timing of actors keeps throwing punches here and there, but it doesn’t look forced.
Nagraj is careful with the treatment of his subjects and the plot, he delves into the life of slum, gives time and respectful treatment to every character without rushing the plot. He makes sure that the audience stays hooked and entertained throughout.
Nagraj has a movie with a deep message, complex meaning, and loaded symbolism that he wants to make sure reaches the maximum audience. Considering the scope and seriousness of this project, loose handling could have made it a monotonous affair or serious docu-drama film, but through and through, Jhund is a whistle gathering entertainer.