Swaha-In the Name of Fire, Review: Burning issues and stark reality, in black and white

Swaha-In the Name of Fire, Review: Burning issues and stark reality, in black and white

Deprived lower castes, without cash or savings, living in abject poverty and being targeted by members of higher castes, is a theme that we have seen and heard and read a lot about. We have also read, seen and heard on media, and learnt through vicarious narrations, that these adverse circumstances have slowly abated over the last 75 years or so, though, by no means have they been dealt with, in finality. There have been numerous films made on the subject. Swaha-In the Name of Fire is one more attempt at highlighting how terrible are the conditions in which members of the scheduled (lower; as categorised in the Indian Constitution) castes and tribes, live, die or get killed.

*The Indian Constitution, effective onwards 1950, recognises Scheduled Castes (SCs) and Scheduled Tribes (STs) as specific groups, facing historical disadvantages and provides them with protective measures and affirmative action.

*Article 46 of the Constitution mandates that the State promote, with special care, the educational and economic interests of the weaker sections, particularly SCs and STs, and protect them from social injustice and exploitation. The Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 was enacted to prevent atrocities against SCs and STs and provide for special courts for speedy trials. In essence, the Indian Constitution aims to address the historical injustices faced by SCs and STs. Abhilash Sharma’s film reminds us that these weaker, and weakest, sections continue to suffer atrocities, are outcastes, and many of them live in barren villages, where there can be no farming. It is all there, in black and white. And it is brooding, sad and morose, which makes it not easy viewing for the average filmgoer, even at 99 minutes, but it is, undeniably, a conscientious effort, with some rivetting images.

Three major characters typify the milieu that Sharma’s world inhabits: A man, Nehura, who disposes off ‘unidentified bodies’; A jobless outcast, Phekan, who is unable earn anything to feed his skeletal family; his wife, Rukhiya, who has no milk to feed her infant or herself, while her husband looks around everywhere to find a daily wages job. Nehura, apparently, has no family, and wastes away his time consuming liquor, with his friends. He is approached by the police to cremate dead bodies of persons who are either unidentifiable, or persons who they do not want to get identified. His fees: two bottles of liquor.

Phekan walks miles and miles to find a daily wages job, to feed himself, his wife and baby, is either shooed away, or abused, or asked to sit in a queue for several hours in the hope that he might land a brick-maker’s job, or given day-jobs but denied wages, or lands a very low paying job, the earnings from which are robbed and he, himself, is badly beaten. His wife, Rukhiya, has no breast-milk (logically, because she herself is starving), to feed her baby, who keeps crying all the time. She has very little food left, just some crumbs, on which the two can survive only for a few hours. Phekan does not return home for two days, as he has been unable earn any money, and what little he earned, has been robbed from him, by another daily wager. After many failed attempts at earning, recurring abuses and beatings, Phekan begins to lose control of his senses. Waiting in vain for her husband to come back with some food, Rukhiya feels accursed, ventures out to search for him and hallucinates about her shadow, which asks her to sacrifice her child.

A joint effort of Shilpee Bhardwaj and Abhilash Sharma, the screenplay seems to be inspired by the works of Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, and Mani Kaul. It might even have been conceived as a Pather Panchali like plot, with the tormented souls being Untouchables, rather than Brahmins, in Ray’s masterpiece. If we take the narrative as the tale of individual souls, it makes us sympathise and empathise with them. But if it is interpreted as a metaphor for the conditions prevalent in Indian states like Jharkhand, Bihar, Orissa and Chhatisgarh, it becomes a deeply disturbing film.

Focussing his attention time and again on rocks, creeping creatures like dogs, cats, snakes, spiders, beetles, etc., he perhaps wants to state that there is no discrepancy or enmity among the other inhabitants of this planet. Several shots capture mother nature, in the form of trees and landscapes. His love for well-composed frames is palpable, to a fault. Here, again, he perhaps is, trying to show that adivasis (ancient inhabitants) worship nature and their ancestors, rather than any other deity, and indulge in rituals and sacrifices that brand them as witches and ghosts. Usually, people and vehicles move very slowly, and Sharma often lets his camera linger on their journey, following them from an extremely long shot to mid-shot, at a leisurely pace. Whenever there is dialogue and action, and there is not much of it, the film develops speed and, completes the action quickly. Phekan walks in his energetic manner, always, although he has not eaten for two days and carries a blank, desolate look on his face. Abhilash is in no hurry to cut short his long takes, whether it is humans or cycles moving along, or humans covering great distances.

Never a light moment, Abhilash Sharma’s second film (he made his debut with Achal Rahe Suhaag, 2012, Bhojpuri, aimed at empowering women through the re-telling of the mythological tale of Savitri and Satyawan) moves in the direction of tragedy upon tragedy, like some films from the South, in the late 50s till the late 60s, till it lulls you into expecting either death of one or two characters, or a symbolic revolt, which, if it were to happen, which would still result in a fatal end for the deprived. But he does not end the film on that note. There is some retribution, even penance, and light at the end of the tunnel. There is a railway station, in the minor city near the village, there is a police station, there are cars, motor-cycles, cycles, etc., and there are jobs going, but Sharma makes it clear that there could be nothing worse than a low caste person seeking any kind of employment there.

Sometimes, you wonder whether things are as really bad as he has shown, and that he has, perhaps, taken a bit of cinematic license to make a point. Of course, city-dwellers have rarely seen or experienced such injustice in person, but they have seen a lot of it on TV, read about in newspapers, and seen dozens of films dealing with similar plots. Fire is a key element in the film, justifying the title. Ironically, the Sanskrit word ‘Swaha’ is used in chanting prayers at marriage rituals too. Here, it represents the force that returns dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Though there is nothing new or ground-breaking about Swaha-In the Name of Fire,

Abhilash Sharma must be complimented for extracting excellent performances, right from the protagonists to the bit players. They look their parts too, except, perhaps, the leading lady, who is too beautiful to pass of as an Adivasi. Perhaps aware of this fact, Sharma shoots most of her scenes in the dark or with half her face covered, a là Zeenat Aman in Raj Kapoor’s Satyam Shivam Sundaram. Often, the screen is so dark that, at least on monitors, it is very difficult to see much, and one has to scan the whole frame to find out where the action is taking place. Shooting it in black and white, and moving at the proverbial snail’s pace, makes the film totally artistic, with little to expect in terms of box-office returns, a fact that the director cannot deny being aware of. But these very aspects make it a good choice for film festivals, where it has won recognition, and is likely to add more awards.

As Nehura, the man with the cycle-rickshaw and a metal plank at its back, for carrying dead bodies to the crematorium, Chandra Shekhar Dutta, gets screen time only in the beginning and towards the end. There is no back-story about him or his family, if he had any. Dutta remains in character throughout the film, and is rewarded with a ‘new beginning’ at the end. Satya Ranjan as the father, Phekan, maintains the same gait even after two days of starvation, and is able to work at jobs that require manual labour, which is bit too much. However, his face and persona reminds you a lot of the late actor Sadhu Meher, who acted in many an artistic, experimental film. Every bit of his face, body and clothes rings true to the part. As Rukhiya, Phekan’s wife and mother of the baby, we do not see much of her in the initial stages, but she comes into her own in the last 1/3rd of the film, and reveals the characteristic of a woman who breaks down after recalling her unpleasant past and her unpredictable future, semi-possessed by a super-natural force, ready to sacrifice anything to get her husband back.

Performances are all-round above the mark, led by:

Bulloo Kumar as Choudhary (the man who asks Phuken to paste posters of a candidate in the forthcoming election, and then goes to sleep, without paying him).

Kunal Kumar as Bablu, the rival newspaper-seller, who attacks Phuken for trying to sell newspapers on his turf—the railway station.

The Bengali woman inside the train, appearing in just one scene, is Sriparna Chakrabarty, putting in a good cameo.

As the Police constable, Chanchal Kumar fits the role like a glove.

It is not easy to capture captivating images in black and white, with the technology having gone obsolete in Hindustani films in the mid-60s. So, kudos to Cinematographer Devendra Golatkar for his earthy frames and geometrical compositions, in the aspect ratio of 1.85:1. It is possible that the film is more visible, and better lit, in cinema-halls than on the monitor, but I had a tough time in deciphering some frames. But at the end, we herald the arrival of colour, just as the end credits begin to toll.

Well, it is clearly obvious that the director wanted to slow down the proceedings, and he is the co-editor too, so we cannot blame editor Suresh Pai for the pace that almost crawls at times. Music by Devarshi is restricted to bhajans sung by a band of four or five, in a group, using bare essentials like the harmonium and the dholak. The tunes and lyrics have the scent of the locale, and would be heard clearly on Dolby 5.1 systems in theatres. Perhaps Abhilash could have reduced these songs by one or two, in the interest of generating some pace. But pace is not among Sharma’s priorities. Other credits are Associate Director: Annil K Bhanja, Executive Producer: Lyle Pearson, Creative Producer: Ashes Vats and Co-Producers: Achala Tomar, Shilpee Bhardwaj.

Like many of the Articles of the Constitution and Acts of Parliament, those affecting the Scheduled Castes and Tribes are not implemented in many parts of the country, and they still suffer at the hands of the privileged, even slightly more privileged, upper caste inhabitants of small towns and villages in India. The torture and abuse can even extend to mass beatings and death. Exactly 75 years after the Constitution was drafted, this burning issue has far from resolved, though it cannot be denied that the oppressed are in a much better situation in 2025 than when they were in 1950. This, being a fact, is in the knowledge of most educated people, including the majority of cineastes. Keeping this in mind, the film offers nothing new. It is just another take on the division of society and class oppression. Outside India, however, audiences might not be aware of such discrimination, abuse, witch-hunts and killings.

Swaha-In the Name of Fire, shot in Bihar and set in, and on the outskirts of, a village called Manorva, in the Magahi language (dialect), with English sub-titles, is likely to win more (many won already) encomiums at select international film festivals, as well as those Indian film festivals that showcase non-mainstream cinema from independent film-makers. Abhilash Sharma and producer Vikash Sharmma have made this film for a cause, and it might be an eye-opener to those who know little about rural India and the extent and depth to which the caste division pervades.

As a prospective audience of Swaha-In the Name of Fire, what kind of film interests you? Escapist entertainment and blood fests, or films that deal with burning, stark, real-world issues in your own motherland? That is the issue.

Rating: ** ½

Trailer: https://youtu.be/OxGPqRBhbXM