‘Ignore the hype and go with no expectations,’ advised some of my friends, the RJ on an FM channel, my neighbours, and an assortment of others who were traumatised by the commercial circus preceding the release of Kabali .
And so I went with no expectations, especially about the treatment of women characters in the film. I still bore a grudge against Rajinikanth for spewing the very popular, misogynistic dialogue on the three ‘types’ of women in Padayappa — Satvikam (she who should be worshipped), Prachodagam (she who should be ravished), and Bayanagam (she who should be feared). Neelambari was a villain because she openly expressed her desire for Padayappa. She wore tight clothes, therefore indicating she was evil, while the homely Vasundhara was the one Padayappa, and therefore we, should love.
What a delight Kabali turned out to be on the gender front.
First, there is no item number — that last resort of desperate, artless movie makers. Next, all the women in the movie are just plain real, beautifully reminiscent of some Malayalam films. The women who toil in the fields wear oversized shirts and paavadais , there are no side views of waists or breasts as they struggle in the heat and protest against discrimination. The non-objectification almost brought tears to my eyes.
Kabali makes space for strong women. His wife Kumudhavalli (Radhika Apte) refers to him as ‘nee’. She orders him around and demands that he press her feet. He carries grocery around for her.
She fills his wardrobe with tailored suits, because ‘no one can dictate who wears what!’ In another movie, he would have been a ‘hen-pecked’ character. Here, he is uber-cool as he does it. Her tearful outpouring of joy on seeing her husband after so many years establishes her strength.
The feared gangster that he is in the movie, Rajini has no qualms about sharing the screen with a grim, gun-wielding, female protector. Yogi (Dhansika) swaggers, reprimands a man when he speaks to her body, and wears clothes that she would probably wear off-camera as well. The kajal and nose-ring are expressions of her individuality rather than an attempt to pander to male fantasies.
Meena (Riythvika), an abused teenager, adores Kabali, even calling him ‘appa’. But her adoration does not stop her from hurling insults at him when she comes to know that he failed to protect his pregnant wife.
As Rajini fans, we are supposed to be on the superstar’s side, wink with him, cry with him, and laugh with him. For a change, I found myself on the other side. And then, Pa. Ranjith ensured I took the middle ground by showing a visibly devastated, vulnerable Kabali. How refreshing!
