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Siraj Syed reviews Anaarkali of Arrah: Item girl--“Spite ’em girl, Bite ’em girl”

Ten minutes into this loud and raw film, you know you will root for the protagonist, an item girl plying her art in Arrah, a small town in the eastern Indian state of Bihar. An item girl is a woman who wears garish costumes, sings, dances, cavorts, titillates and tantalises on stage, to a public, sing-along audience, that joins her full-of-double-entendre lyrics, lusts after her and drools, but quite like the cabaret and the pole dancing of the West, it is not allowed to touch her, without her CONSENT.

Tales of unfortunate item girls, or other dancers/singers in Indian society, who were either born, bought or knowingly drifted into the profession, have been the grist of over a hundred Indian films, maybe 10 every year, since cinema arrived in the country. Some movies have portrayed these women as victims, others as vamps and a few have exalted them into heroines.

Anaarkali (the moniker stands for ‘pomegranate bud’, often an assumed name, just as a host of their Western counterparts adopt the name ‘Rose’) of Arrah (there is a real town by that name, with a spelling variation as Ara/Aara, 80 kms west of the state capital, Patna; this was where great Indian film lyricist, late Shailendra’s family came from, but the film was largely shot in the Uttar Pradesh town of Amroha). Anaarkali of Arrah (aka Anaarkali Arrahwali), is an indie venture, a whirlwind tour of the life-style and seedy politics of the far-out state, with repercussions in the Federal Capital of India, New Delhi.

It is the story of an erotic singer/dancer (Swara Bhaskar), mouthing lewd songs and unapologetic about her sexuality. She considers herself an artiste, and her work a job. She is a foul-mouthed and crass woman with a fiery spirit, but is the star performer of her troupe, run by Rangeela (Pankaj Tripathi) and is a regular at major local events, where the attendees shower money. However, her life takes a twist when she has a confrontation with a very powerful man of the region, a powerful, debauched and corrupt Vice-Chancellor (Sanjay Mishra) and his police officer minion, Bulbul Pandey (Vijay Kumar).

She picks up the gauntlet, and unflinchingly fights misogynist beliefs, which initially lead to disastrous consequences, even arrest under a false charge of being a sex-worker, and is also rendered homeless. But with the support of four good men—her musician Anwar (Mayur More), a music company executive Hiraman (Ishtiyak Khan), the owner of the Delhi-based company, and a conscientious local journalist of Arrah, she takes the Arrah array head-on.

Along the narrative, writer director Avinash Das pays obeisance to such classics as Pakeezah, Bazaar, Muqaddar Ka Sikandar, Umrao Jaan, Teesri Kasam and Dabangg, even naming a character Hiraman, after Raj Kapoor’s character in TK, and another Bulbul Pandey, after Salman in Dabangg. But he insists that the inspiration was triggered ff about a decade ago, when e saw, on a nascent YouTube, "...one sensuous and erotic number, sung by Tarabano Faizabadi. She had no expression on her face, and maybe that said her story. That's how the idea of Anarkali of Arrah developed in my mind.”

41 year-old debutant Das is a native of the Bhojpur region of Bihar, from where the dialect Bhojpuri gets its name. But he shot the film in Ara for only three days, using stock footage and Amroha to stand-in for the original. Das had earlier worked a researcher on the documentary, Battle for Banaras, made by screenplay guru and acclaimed film-maker, Kamal Swaroop. His strengths include crisp characterisation and a great command over, his own dialect, not to mention Hindi and Urdu. The way he has coined and used dialogue (“Hum doodh key dhule to naheen”, “Desh ke Liye”) is remarkable. And the eschewing of religion politics, coupled with the severely limited use of the part of Anwar are master-strokes.

What’s incredible is that Anaarkali if Arrah has gotten away from the Central Board of Film Certification with at least a hundred words and ten shots that would have been ordinarily deleted. Either he wields clout, or, for once, CBFC has been liberal and made contextual judgements in favour of the film. I found only one or two ‘swear’ words muted, which were, by comparison, sanitised. But the sheer ease with which they are mouthed or sung, or the felicity with which the actors get into sexually provocative acts and gestures, is indeed a great example of conviction above compunction.

Swara Bhaskar (Tanu Weds Manu, Raanjhanaa, Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, Nil Batey Sannata), who was cast on account of her real-life activism and speaking her mind nature, is a delight to watch. An award could follow. National School of Drama (NSD) alumnus and one of the most naturally ‘slipping-into-the-role’ guys around, Sanjay Varma looks a cross between late villain Manmohan and Shatrughan Sinha, largely due to his wig and get-up. Never mind. Just watch his mannerisms, moves and dialogue delivery. What a foil to Swara! Pankaj Tripathi here is the opposite of what he was in last year’s Mango Dreams, and for the better, though he has some limitations. Ishtiyak Khan is another easy-flowing character, full of honesty and earthy humanity. Vijay Kumar is wholly convincing as the slave to the system, bald and crude, Inspector. Mayur More sounds Maharashtrian than Bhojpuri in his dialogue delivery, though he underplays gracefully.

As the music-company and studio-owner, Nitin Arora is a healthy take on famous music director Anu Malik, but not a caricutare. Competent support comes from Abhishek Sharma, Vishwa Bhanu, Ipsita Chakraborty-Singh, Manmohan Joshi, Brijesh Karanvaal, Dilip Kumar Gupta and Shyam Narayan Mishra, as the Reporter.           

Costume Designer Rupa Chourasia, Sound Designer Arun Nambiyaar, Art Directors team Afroz Haider--Mainak Das--Vicky Verma, Choreographer Shabina Khan, and Cinematographer Arbind Kannbiran, combine to create the loud garish tones and moves that go with the theme. Softer colours emerge when the action moves to New Delhi. I cannot imagine such a film in the hands of an editor less competent than Jabeen Merchant. Assemblage and excision are of a very high order, possibly award-winning.

Anaarkali of Arrah is nothing if it is not a musical, with 7-8 songs, almost entirely in lip-sync playback, sung by Swati Sharma, Indu Sonali, Rekha Bhardwaj, Pawani Pandey and Sonu Nigam. Lyrics are from the pens of Ramkumar Singh, Dr.Sagar, Ravinder Randhawa and Avinash Das. Although each is well-written (‘be-qaid’ is poetic licence; many other words might not be understood to non-Bhojpuri speaking audiences, though they could well go with the flow), some playback voices du not match the ersona of the singers. Music composer Rohit Sharma (Ship of Theseus, Buddha in a Traffic Jam) deserves kudos for reprising stock-in-trade singing and composing styles and a background score to blend just perfectly with the ambience of the film.

It is not clear why the release of the film was advanced by two weeks, but this does happen to be examination season in Mumbai, not that anybody under 18 would be allowed inside a theatre. A small indie film that packs a punch, Anaarkali of Arrah is a mouse that roars...well almost.

Rating: ***

Trailer: https://youtu.be/jHFT_PdLh20