The tale of an abla naari is a sad one. Dependent on the men in her life for the smallest of things and systematically wronged and taken advantage of, she has no choice but to stay put in her situation, until her male saviour arrives to rescue her.
And it is true – there may be and are women like this. Forced by their circumstances and having to bend under heavily patriarchal notions, they remain weak and defenceless, having to wait for a lifeboat in the shape of a man no matter how small the crisis may be. But Laapata Ladies takes that notion and flips it over so effectively that it seems as natural as it should be.
Yes, many a ‘abla naari’ live in our society. She may be your mother, sister, aunt, friend or even you. But does she have to stay that way? Does she not have any power to take basic control of her life?
No.
What she lacks is not capability, but opportunity and space.
Every woman is not abla, but rather able – able to think and act for herself with agency and confidence, without having to rely on a knight in shining armour.
Mistaken identity, unexpected freedom
In Laapata Ladies, all it takes for the two main female characters (Phool and Jaya/Pushpa Rani) to set forward on the path of empowerment is the chance to handle things by themselves, instead of being led everywhere, hand held and ghunghat-drawn. Both are different women with different worldviews and desires from their life. But their initial predicament is the same – new brides travelling to their new families with their bag and baggage and the jhanjhat of a ghunghat. Initially, they are lost because of an earnest mistake thanks to the ghunghat that masks not just their identity to others but also their own sight of the world (Kiran Rao aptly uses this metaphor to its fullest extent throughout the movie).
However, from there they go in slightly different directions – Jaya is grateful to have escaped her husband (who showed clear potential to be abusive) and grabs the doorknob to her freedom, making systematic plans to continue her education. Her self-assuredness, confidence in her abilities and shrewdness are awakened after she had smothered them for a forced marriage to Pradeep, and she now walks about with purpose, even enjoying herself and the company of others around her.
On the other hand, Phool takes some more time. Naive and untouched by the ways of the world, she was simply taught to be a ‘dutiful’ daughter. She now makes hard peace with the fact that she is well and truly lost with no hope of reuniting with Deepak unless he comes searching for her. Then she gets adopted by a gruff but kind Manju Maai who opens up her world view and gives her a sense of independence. Eventually, she realises that instead of waiting for Deepak to find her, she can simply go and find him!
What I love about Phool’s character is that she stays true to her desire to reunite with Deepak (who would not want to if it was Deepak?) and live a traditional family life but also imbibes an important nuance of independence – it is not about rejection of others’ help or existence, rather being able to depend on yourself despite others being there.
But either way, the tale of an ‘abla naari’ is no longer that of Jaya or Phool. They are now free and competent enough to ‘rescue’ themselves and take their life in their own hands.
First female saviour?
The entire movie was a heartwarming ode to women empowerment but what struck me the most in this simple but optimistic dramedy was that this is the first time I’ve seen a woman ‘saving’ a woman. Whether it was Manju Maai bluntly but not unkindly schooling Phool on her lack of agency or Jaya not just saving herself, but ingeniously helping in the quest for Phool – it was a woman who put on the shining armour for other women.
What makes her so different from a classic ‘male saviour’ is that she does not presuppose that the other woman is weak, incapable of rescuing herself – the ‘saviour’ doesn’t do the actual rescuing, she facilitates it. The classic ‘male saviour’, never once thinks that the woman is capable, rather suddenly gains the ease of a superhero who fights 20 goons before breakfast and whisks the lady away from danger.
Instead, the ‘female saviours’ of Laapata Ladies become a more realistic ‘friend in need’, whose role is simply to nudge something innate in the woman that will urge her to save herself.
Not just that, but the ‘male saviour’ also tends to make the story all about himself – the suffering woman is just there so that he may become the hero, as Kartik Aryan in Satyaprem Ki Katha so thickheadedly articulates, “Hero heroine ko nahi bachaayega toh hero kaise banega”.
The story of Laapata Ladies never suddenly becomes about Manju Mai (though her life would make a movie that would be a good slap on the face of a certain director who loves to propagate abuse as love), neither does it glorify Shyam Manohar’s act of holding up the law (which is basically his job) and make it about how he rescued a damsel in distress. The story could have also easily been about Deepak and how he is such a good man and so he not only rescues his own wife but also saves Jaya from the brutal Pradeep and ‘gives’ her the freedom to pursue her education. Haven’t we all too often seen movies that do this? However far-fetched it may sound in the setting of Laapata Ladies, it is a trope that has been consistently used throughout the ages. Indeed, the fact that this seems far-fetched in the story, is Laapata Ladies’ biggest achievement.
Suddenly, refreshingly, we don’t see the women going – ‘bachao, bachao’, neither do we see a man ‘saving’ the woman but drawing focus away from the narratives of the very women he is supposed to be empowering.
Instead, empowered women empower other women to take control of their lives and choices. Deepak and Shyam Manohar definitely help in certain processes but the story’s focus remains on the trajectory of Phool and Jaya.
The journey from an ‘abla naari’ to ‘able naari’ is theirs and solely theirs.
Are we finally dismantling the ‘abla naari’ trope and giving way to the ‘able naari’ one? Are we finally seeing the ‘female saviour’?
The heartwarming optimism of Laapata Ladies is infectious and so I truly hope we find ourselves answering the above questions with a resounding ‘yes’ in the coming years.