Konkona's character, who is routinely subjected to marital rape, goes to her husband's lover and almost gleefully reveals her identity. Aahana Kumra, has no qualms about demanding sex from her boyfriend even after a fight. Something our very erudite film certification board read as "lady-oriented".Īlankrita also chooses to give them the vocabulary to express their needs.This results in some of the most chuckle-inducing moments of the film. Because of this, the film has a decidedly feminine gaze. She also gives them the agency to fantasise. Here, director Alankrita Srivastava gives these women breathing space. And the older woman with sexual needs would have ended up being a caricature in the able hands of a Dhawan or a Nihalani. The rebellious college girl would have been tamed by the college dude. Aahana Kumra, a woman walking into a loveless marriage with a nice guy would have been made to see the virtue of the match ( Dhadkan). The Hindi film audience is acquainted with these prototypes.Ī decade back, the dowdy, eager-to-please wife to an uncaring husband would have been advised to revamp her wardrobe and win back her husband (remember Biwi No 1). There is no 'aurat pe zulm karne walla' moment here. A middle-aged widow (Ratna Pathak Shah), a homemaker and a mother of three (Konkona Sen Sharma), an ambitious beautician (Aahana Kumra) and a college-going Muslim girl (Plabita Borthakur), are all victims of patriarchy. The mood is sombre without being maudlin. Of malls and nightclubs and protest marches, a city itching to be a metropolis. Just within touching distance, is another Bhopal. Steaming tea is poured from kettles into stained glasses, azaan reverberates across the Bhopal skyline as these women go about their daily chores. This is the innards of the city, we are led to believe. Set in contemporary Bhopal, the film chronicles the lives of four women who live in the same building, Hawai Mahal.
It's straight-forward tale of a group of women from a tier-2 city, their dreams and their struggles. And it's definitely not the sex-fest that Pahlaj Nihalani, in his trademark double-meaning style, insinuated. Neither it's the revolution that its psychedelic posters and uplifting trailers make it out to be. No, Lipstick Under My Burkha is not the magic pill that will flush out patriarchy. Okay, now that I have gained your attention by somehow weaving in Karan Johar's name in the introduction, let me answer some real questions. Will Karan Johar, after watching Lipstick Under My Burkha, stop shaming female actors for having contrarian opinions? Will this film turn your boorish boyfriend into a bra-burning feminist? The world has Bechdel test, a metric which asks whether a work of fiction features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man.
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