Laapataa Ladies (2024)

Directed by: Kiran Rao
Music: Ram Sampat
Lyrics: Swanand Kirkire, Divyanshi Sharma,
Prashant Pandey
Starring: Nitanshi Goel, Pratibha Ranta,
Sparsh Srivastav, Chhaya Kadam,
Ravi Kishan, Geeta Agrawal Sharma,
Pankaj Sharma, Daood Hussain,
Satendra Soni, Ravi Kapadiya
Durgesh Kumar, Kanupriya Rishimum

I very rarely write about new Hindi films. Except when they are ‘so bad they are good ‘ or when they are so entertaining that I want to share the film with my readers.  So, yet another exception, this time for a film-maker whose debut film I thoroughly enjoyed.  

The year – 2001. The place – Nirmal Pradesh. Deepak (Sparsh Srivastav), a young farmer, is leaving for his village with his even younger bride, Phool Kumari (Nitanshi Goel). They have to travel a long way before they can reach the railway station, where they will take a train for the final leg of the journey.
 

On the very crowded train are two other newly-wed couples; all the brides are dressed in bridal red, their faces concealed with long ghungats. After an ill-timed visit to the toilet on the train, Deepak hurriedly (and drowsily) gets down in the middle of the night, with the woman he thinks is his bride. Unfortunately for him, and for Phool, he’s led the wrong bride away, a fact that he realises only when he reaches home. 

Poor Deepak is mortified; his parents are furious; his friends are amused; this bride is rather nonchalant for someone who’s arrived at the wrong sasuraal, and his bride is missing – who knows where? 

A distraught Deepak and his friends search everywhere for the missing Phool and even lodge a missing person’s report with the local police. 

They are unhelpful because Deepak has only one photograph of Phool –  and her face is veiled. Phool, awakened by the other young woman’s bridegroom, is left stranded at a railway station further ahead, with no money, no idea of where she is going or how to contact her missing husband. 
 

Meanwhile, the other bride (Pratibha Ranta), who says her name is Pushpa Rani, is making herself at home. She's at ease with Deepu's mother, Yashoda (Geeta Agrawal Sharma), and is fast becoming friends with Deepak’s sister-in-law (Rachna Gupta) and her little son.

But is she harbouring a secret? Why does she make frequent (and secretive) trips to the market? And is Pushpa even her real name?
 
What will become of these two women – and the men they married?
 
Laapataa Ladies literally means ‘missing ladies’ – that is, Phool goes missing on the train, and Pushpa/Jaya deliberately stays ‘missing’. But if you look at the film’s underlying theme, it is about the all the women who are ‘lost’ – both before and after marriage. If Jaya is forced into a marriage, then Deepu’s mother and his sister-in-law have lost their individuality after marriage – the former has even forgotten what she likes; the latter has put her art aside because it isn’t ‘useful’.  

Based on a story by Biplab Goswami, Kiran Rao’s sophomore film is a social satire whose biggest success lies in highlighting the status of women in a patriarchal society without demonising men (or even the women who buy into that patriarchy themselves). She and her team of writers – screenplay by Sneha Desai, additional dialogue by Divya Nidhi Sharma – also take well-aimed shots at social evils like dowry, domestic violence, early marriage, and stereotypical gender roles. Rao deals with these issues with a light hand, preferring to focus on the inherent humanity of people and using humour to leaven the bleakness of the young women’s situation.
 
There’s subtle commentary on the ghungat – it is the reason for the brides being exchanged, in the first place. And, in one of the earliest scenes in the movie, Phool, heavily veiled as befitting a newly married woman, stumbles on her way to her new home. “Aage nahin, neeche dekh ke chalna seekho”, snaps her mother. It’s a stark reminder of the place of the married woman in such a society. This ‘neeche dekh ke chalna’ is also why Jaya initially follows Deepak out of the train; she doesn’t see his face in the dark.
 
Later, when Deepak is desperately searching for Phool, he shows his wedding photograph to a Muslim shopkeeper. 

The man dismisses him saying “Abhi ee mein kaa dekhe? Ghunghat se toh full face dhaka hua hain. Face hii to sab kuchh hota hain. Face dhak dena matlab pehchaan dhak dena.”  (What is there to see here? Her face is fully covered by the ghunghat. The face is everything. Covering the face means concealing your identity.) The climax to that scene is both funny and pointed; the man’s wife – her face covered by her hijab – comes out to serve him tea.
 

The writing is on point – mostly ‘showing’ us rather than ‘telling’. For instance, when Phool first sets off on this journey, they first walk to the road, then travel by scooter, boat, bus and train; it shows us how difficult it is for her to go back home. 

Similarly, when the station master asks her where her village is, she answers “Gangapur”, unaware that there are several Gangapurs in the region. It establishes her youth and her naïveté without beating us on the head with it. Or the scene where Pushpa is asked why she followed a strange man – "I was asked to follow his shoes," she snaps.

Rao also uses music (Ram Sampath; lyrics by Swanand Kirkire, Divya Nidhi Sharma, Prashant Pandey) effectively. The songs, used in the background, are charming melodies, and my favourite is Doubtwa by Sukhwinder Singh.
 
Laapataa Ladies might be the story of ‘lost’ brides, but the film is also filled with a medley of memorable characters – the cynical Manju Mai (Chhaya Kadam), who has learnt the hard way that it might be tough for a woman to be alone, but in that lesson lies freedom; Gunjan (Daood Hussain), Deepak’s friend who, upon first sight of Pushpa – his friend’s wife – falls madly, irrevocably in love with her; Shyam Manohar (an excellent Ravi Kishan), who’s blatantly corrupt but finds his humanity when it’s most necessary. 

Even the tertiary characters – Chhotu (a cheery Satendra Soni), so young and worldly-wise; Abdul (Ravi Kapadiya), a ‘disabled’ beggar [in a nod to Shaan], Durgesh Kumar as the stolid, thick-headed constable… all these characters add so much to the lived-in feel of the film that is exquisitely shot on real locations by Vikash Nowlakha.  

The locations, costuming, sets, all bespeak an attention to detail, the flavour of small, North-Indian villages and mofussil towns coming through like the fragrance of the kamal kakdi ka sabzi that Yashoda makes for Jaya.

Rao does well in doing away with ‘stars’ – her fresh-faced leads, all first-timers, act like seasoned performers. Nitanshi Goel plays the ingénue with sincerity; her Phool is so sure of her new husband’s love that not even Manju Mai’s cynicism can shake her belief that he will come in search of her. 

She is innocent, and her journey into self-awareness does not suddenly make her ‘liberated’; it just makes her a little surer of herself. Her quiet joy when she ties her first salary in her sari pallu is expressed in a radiant smile that lights her eyes. Nitanshi invests her Phool with a sweetness that is credible, and her wide-eyed trust that Deepu will find her makes you want to shield her from harm. Nitanshi is very likeable and I can’t wait to see what she will do next.
 

Sparsh Srivastav is all of 24. His performance, however, belies his youth and inexperience. As Deepu, so in love with his wife and so distraught at ‘losing’ her and so adamant that he will find her come what may, Sparsh makes you root for him. He ‘speaks’ with his eyes, and one can see the determination to do the right thing, not just by Phool, but also by Pushpa whom he had – to his mind – kind of abducted.
 

Pratibha Ranta seemed a tad bit too assured to play the role of an 18-year-old Pushpa/Jaya but she’s an excellent actress whose ability to emote without saying much is a joy to behold. Unlike Phool, she lies and deceives to get what she wants. She is self-assured and capable but is also torn by guilt that her presence has upended Deepu’s life in ways he cannot comprehend. She puts her future at risk to help him, and her reward, when it comes, seems justly earned. Her budding (unspoken) attraction to Gunjan form some of the sweetest scenes in the film, other than Deepu telling Phool, "I love you." Pratibha nails the role of a woman who has been handed an unexpected opportunity to escape and hopes to make the best of it but is also terrified that it might be snatched away from her at any moment.
 

These debutants are ably backed by seasoned performers, Chhaya Kadam and Ravi Kishan. As Manju Mai, Chhaya brings a cynical weariness to her role as a woman who has learnt to fend for herself. She has thrown her husband and son out of the house and her life because they both lived off her earnings, yet thought they had the God-given right to hit her. 

She’s acerbic and acid-tongued and has a running feud with a customer who tries to take a little more chutney than she deems sufficient. Her friendship with Phool happens slowly but organically and one can’t help but smile when she finally takes a spoon of Kalakand.
 
Ravi Kishan was a revelation – I only knew he acted in Bhojpuri films; I’d never seen him on screen before. The role of a corrupt inspector being mined for laughs is a difficult role – too much, and he would have been a caricature. 

The actor treads the fine line between hamming and letting his delightful expressions do the talking for him. It is a great performance. When we first see him, he’s enjoying a thumri in the police station. It is only as the song ends that you realise that the woman is singing so her son can be released from jail. The bribe money wasn’t enough. 

His staunch belief that Pushpa isn’t who she says she is, the way he follows her to see if she will slip up, and his reaction to Pushpa’s husband – Kishan’s finely calibrated performance will bring a smile to your face.
 

No, Laapataa Ladies is not a ‘perfect’ film; there are a few broad strokes here and there and the writers seem aware that they are Making. A. Point. But, Rao manages to seamlessly weave these 'points' into the story-telling. The pace of the film is languorous, but she keeps the drama muted, the humour understated and the satire subtle. 

She finds the humanity in her characters and makes us believe that there are more good people around than we hear about. This allows a conversation about these larger issues without devolving into a blame game.
 
Laapataa Ladies is a sincere, entertaining, film which sets about to make a space for women where they belong. It allows women to have a voice, and be listened to. Jaya is now free to make her own choices; Phool is learning that she has choices. Phool may never open a sweet shop of her own, but she has learnt how to stand on her own feet. And her relationship with Deepu seems to be one of equals. Jaya has moved forward to complete her education; one is certain that she will do something with it – it doesn’t matter what.
 
Deepu has learnt to stand up for himself. And for his wife. And when he tells Jaya that it is not a crime for a woman to dream, I’m sure it resonated with many women as well. Perhaps that will help many ‘lost’ women to find themselves again. The ending shot, of Deepu and Phool, walking towards the horizon hand in hand, without the ghunghat obscuring her vision, is a tiny step towards progress.
 
Take a bow, Kiran Rao. And please don’t make us wait another 13 years for your next film.