MY REJOINDER TO TAMANNAAH BHATIA'S RECENT INTERVIEW REGARDING MY 2015 ARTICLE

 

In a recent interview to the media platform The Lallantop, the actor Tamannaah Bhatia was asked about the representation of female bodies on screen, and in particular about my article published in The Hindu Businessline in 2015 under the headline “The Rape of Avanthika”. 

 

ICYMI: “The Rape of Avanthika” was a critique of a scene in S.S. Rajamouli’s Baahubali: The Beginning in which Avanthika (played by Bhatia) attacks Prabhas’ character in reaction to his incursions on her body portrayed in the preceding scenes. 

 

This encounter is depicted as a dance, during which he strips her of her practical warrior’s attire and alters it into a flowy outfit, unties her hair against her will, and forcibly applies makeup on her face. At the end of this passage, she is no longer fighting him – instead, she is mesmerised by her own transformation, and in love with him. 

 

I had described the scene as a symbolic – and romanticised – representation of the violation of a woman’s consent in sexual relations. 

 

“The Rape of Avanthika” was about Baahubali the film, not about Bhatia the individual. In her recent interview, though, she characterised the article as an attack on her. 

 

“When people can’t control you, they use shame and guilt as a technique to make you feel that you must feel ashamed of whatever you do. Because when they make you feel shame, they can gain control over you,” was how she began her answer to the question about the article.

 

She then spoke at length about sexual repression in our society. 

 

Attributing my article to this sexual repression, Bhatia made the following personal remark about me: “If you show someone the purest thing, but if that person thinks sex is a bad thing or your body is a bad thing or your entire system is a bad thing, then that’s all they will see.”

 

When “The Rape of Avanthika” was published, I was flooded with responses from readers who said it resonated with them, including a large number who told me they had, until then, assumed they were alone in their discomfort with that scene in Baahubali. Simultaneously came a spate of communal and misogynistic online attacks, in addition to vulgar, sexually explicit abuse. 

 

Having faced those attacks, I still say that Bhatia’s latest interview is the most inexplicable and absurd response to the article I have received in these 10 years.

 

The article was concerned about the romanticisation of sexual violence in a film. Bhatia has somehow interpreted that concern as an aversion to sex. 

 

I wrote about what I saw as a symbolic, prettified representation of rape. Bhatia has somehow interpreted that as my attempt to control her. 

 

Why would I want to control a stranger to whom I have no personal ties? 

 

This is not about me though. 

 

The issue here is the deep-seated internalised misogyny that prompted Bhatia to defend a portrayal of stalking, harassment and violence as courtship, and the normalisation of sexual violence in a film.

 

According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) 2022 report, India records 51 cases of crimes against women every hour. (Source: Times of India)

 

Women in India suffer acid attacks, rape and have even been killed by men who are socially conditioned to ignore or avenge rejection. 

 

That scene in Baahubali showed a woman initially enraged at the repeated violation of her bodily integrity by a man, but eventually making love to him. It is dangerous because it echoes what our society tells boys and men: that when a woman says no, she means maybe or yes; that true love or genuine attraction means persisting even after she rejects your advances; and that it is up to a man to “make her realise” (to quote an oft-used phrase) how beautiful she is. 

 

In such circumstances, I don’t care about Bhatia’s demeaning comments aimed at me, or her pretence that she does not know me or of me – we have met, and even spent time together. Besides, she has clearly devoted lots of time to thinking about my article for an entire decade. 

 

I genuinely don’t care about the act she put on though. 

 

I care that she, a celebrity with the power to positively influence minds if she wishes to do so, publicly made false allegations about “The Rape of Avanthika”, and intentionally conflated sexual violence with sex to confuse the audience at an interview. In doing so, she has supported the patriarchal status quo that causes great harm to women, and ultimately harms men too.

 

I feel compelled to write this rejoinder although I am short of time and bogged down by work, because sections of the media have unquestioningly quoted Bhatia’s interview in articles, without pointing to the regressive mindset she displayed and the falsehoods in her comments.

 

I am a middle-class individual without the massive PR machinery and management team that a millionaire movie star like Bhatia has working for her. This means I do not have the resources to amplify this rejoinder, and can only trust that individual members of the public and the media who share my values will amplify it for me. 

 

I repeat: this is not about me, it’s about Bhatia’s dangerous messaging. This is not about Bhatia either: she is a mere instrument, a mouthpiece, for an oppressive system that seeks to subjugate women and non-conformist men; a system that some women, sadly, play along with in the interests of career advancement.

 

The link to “The Rape of Avanthika” is here and here.

 

Please share this statement not just on the platform on which you are reading it, but in the e-groups, WhatsApp groups and other networks that you are a part of, so that it leads to a conversation that conservatives and misogynists like Bhatia do not want us to have. (Ends)

TRIVIALISING SEXUAL VIOLENCE / COLUMN PUBLISHED ON BBC HINDI

(The Hindi translation of this article was published on bbc.com/hindi/ on July 25, 2015. It was written as a follow-up to the right-wing reaction to “The Rape of Avanthika”, my column that appeared in The Hindu Businessline on July 18, 2015)

By Anna MM Vetticad

“It’s not rape, it’s seduction, b**ch!”

“Ignore her Her name says she’s from Vatican city and She might have got money from church to write this column.” (sic)

This is a tiny – relatively polite – sample of the venom being spewed on my social media accounts since the appearance of my column, “The Rape of Avanthika”, in The Hindu Businessline last Saturday.

By the time the column was published, the Telugu blockbuster Bahubali – simultaneously shot in Tamil and released in multiple dubbed versions – was already a certified hit. Fans of the film, you would imagine, had no reason to be insecure.

Still, I expected a standard misogynistic backlash since I had written about the trivialisation of sexual violence in Indian cinema. The immediate provocation was an extended ‘seduction’ sequence in Bahubali, in which the hero repeatedly violates the body of the female warrior Avanthika, then – through music and dance – roughs her up, strips off part of her outfit, alters the rest of her attire and her face despite her resistance. Within seconds, she falls for him and falls asleep in his arms.

This song-and-dance metaphor for rape insidiously perpetuates a prevalent notion that the way to a woman’s heart is through force. I knew from experience that I would receive sexist vitriol for my critique. What I did not realise was that hordes of viewers have been counting Bahubali as a “Hindu success” and a matter of “south Indian/Telugu pride”.

And so, vile comments have been pouring in for a week now, from film fans and from the Hindu Right who see Bahubali – steeped as it is in Hindu mythology – as a “Hindu answer” to the “Muslim PK”. “Muslim” because of the lead actor Aamir Khan’s religion and “answer” because they saw PK’s indictment of religion per se as a Hindu-bashing exercise.

Be that as it may, Indian films have trivialised violence against women for decades. Readers of this website would be familiar with the phenomenon in Bollywood in particular. Just this year, in director Aanand L. Rai’s Tanu Weds Manu Returns, the character Pappi abducts a woman from her wedding because, despite her denials, he believes she loves him. Pappi is portrayed as loveable, his actions as a joke.

From stalking to molestation and other forms of assault, our heroes are doing it all under the guise of courtship. In Rai’s 2013 film Raanjhanaa, the hero is a pest who slashes his wrists twice and even drives the heroine into a river on a scooter in anger. In Holiday (2014), Virat Bakshi (Akshay Kumar) stalks Saiba (Sonakshi Sinha) and forcibly kisses her. In Kick (2014), Salman Khan lifts Jacqueline Fernandez’s skirt with his teeth, surrounded by a group of male dancers.

Violence, you see, is cute and amusing in Bollywood’s book. Even a seemingly enlightened director like Imtiaz Ali has featured rape jokes in both Jab We Met (2007) and Rockstar (2011).

The cliched response to such criticism is that films portray India’s reality. My experience this week tells you that fans don’t like those who raise their voices against a glorification or comedification of this terrible reality. The thing about breaking the silence though is that whenever you do, you discover multitudes who share your opinion but were feeling lonely with their views since no one around them had spoken up. Far greater than the flood of Bahubali-loving trolls abusing me this week is the deluge from men and women saying: “Thank goodness you wrote this. I thought I’m the only one feeling this way.” You are not. I am not. And we both ought to speak up.

(Anna MM Vetticad is the author of The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic. Twitter: @annavetticad)

BBC Hindi link: http://www.bbc.com/hindi/entertainment/2015/07/150723_mysogyny_india_films_bahubali_women_rns

Photograph courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/bahubali.the.movie

Note: This photograph was not sourced from BBC Hindi

ROMANTICISING RAPE / FILM FATALE: COLUMN PUBLISHED IN THE HINDU BUSINESSLINE

THE RAPE OF AVANTHIKA

Bahubali features one of the longest scenes of romanticised symbolic violation ever seen on screen. Why are we as a nation not angered by it?

By Anna M.M. Vetticad

She, a brave warrior, lies on the banks of a lake, falling asleep with her slim hand in the water. Unknown to her, he — an absolute stranger — paints a flower on her wrist.

Furious on discovering the drawing, she sets out to find out how it got there. He unleashes a serpent on her from behind, and while she stands frozen, he — still a stranger — etches another bloom on her shoulder before disappearing from the scene.

Enraged at the assault, she takes off in search of the offender. When they finally meet face to face, he grabs her, and then comes a sexual dance as he pushes and pulls her about, unties her hair against her will, strips her of her practical fighter’s clothing and skilfully transforms the rest of her outfit into more ‘feminine’ garb. He forcibly smears natural dye on her lips to redden them and lines her eyes with the essence of crushed berries. At this point, she glimpses her transformed self in a sheet of water, and quivers coyly before their dance continues. She finally falls asleep in his arms.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how a woman is tamed. (Applause)

This scene featuring Prabhas and Tamannaah Bhatia appears in director S.S. Rajamouli’s box-office-busting Bahubali, released in the original Telugu and Tamil, and in multiple dubbed versions last week. It is a visually spectacular film with an engaging story rich in mythological references. Sadly, that’s what makes it dangerous because it has the potential to gain legitimacy among more viewers and to reach a far wider audience than an ugly, unpolished, unintelligent, unimaginative, un-entertaining film.

This aggressive display of ‘love’, in particular, is set against a gorgeous landscape with gentle music playing in the background. The beauty of the scene is designed to lull us into an acceptance of its insidious imagery and message, an acceptance that is bound to attract at least some reactions such as “stop nitpicking”, “have you lost your sense of romance?” and the standard “chill, relax, it’s just a film” to this column.

Actually, we can’t afford to “chill”. Certainly not when human society is still grappling with the meaning of consent in the matter of romantic and sexual relations. Prettified though it has been, the lead couple’s mating dance in Bahubali is unequivocal in its contention that it is okay to fool around with a woman without her knowing, or to force yourself on her when she resists, because that’s what courtship is all about.

If you are among those who are touched by this scene, permit me to plant the seed of a thought in your head. In your mind’s eye, if you replace the handsome Prabhas with Shakti Kapoor (or another actor who usually plays villainous roles), would you still find his actions poignant?

In the Hindi film Tanu Weds Manu (2011), Manu – again a stranger – is smitten when he sees a drunken Tanu lying passed out in her bedroom. So overwhelmed is he by his emotions that he kisses her. It’s unfortunate that many people find it hard to empathise unless they personalise a situation, but that being the reality, if you are moved by this scene, try this exercise: ask yourself whether it would be acceptable if a woman you love — perhaps your daughter — were lying asleep and your son’s friend or the male household help or an unknown man entered her room and kissed her?

If you object to either of the above alternative scenarios, why is it okay to romanticise them in a film?

The question is crucial in a nation as conservative as ours where most parents do not discuss romance with their children and where gender segregation is widespread, as a result of which many youngsters take guidance from cinema. If Salman Khan lifts Jacqueline Fernandez’s skirt without her knowledge in Kick (2014) and she shows anger at first, but soon dances merrily with him, the message to impressionable fans is that women secretly feel flattered by harassment — or what is euphemistically called ‘teasing’.

Impressionable young minds are not the only ones though who shut their eyes to the trivialisation of sexual violence on screen and resist or fail to comprehend non-traditional definitions of consent — and informed consent — off screen.

It’s really quite simple, you know. If she does not know you are doing it, it’s a no. If she does not understand what you are doing, it’s a no. If she says no, it’s a no. If she resists you physically, for god’s sake it’s a no. If she has not said yes, it’s a no. In all the above scenarios, if you replace her with a person of another gender, it’s still a no. And if you don’t have consent but still go ahead, it is rape.

For most people though, the issue of consent arises only at the point of penetrative sex in real life, or on screen with a literal — not metaphorical — depiction or suggestion of forced penetration. Everything up to that instant is considered fair game.

This is why droves of Malayalam film fans defend that scene in Annayum Rasoolum (2013) when Anna is seated on a bus, oblivious to the presence of her stalker Rasool behind her as he quietly passes his hand over her hair.

This is also why the rape of Avanthika by Bahubali is not causing the nationwide outrage that it should.

(Anna MM Vetticad is the author of The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic. Twitter: @annavetticad)

(This column was first published in The Hindu Businessline newspaper on July 18, 2015)

Original link: http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/watch/the-rape-of-avanthika/article7433603.ece#comments

Related link: “बाहुबलीः ये रिझाना है या बलात्कार?” – Follow-up article  by Anna MM Vetticad on BBC Hindi about the angry right-wing reaction to “The Rape Of Avanthika” and the trivialisation of sexual violence in Hindi cinema    
http://www.bbc.com/hindi/entertainment/2015/07/150723_mysogyny_india_films_bahubali_women_rns

Photograph courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/bahubali.the.movie

Note: This photograph was not sourced from The Hindu Businessline