The Moderate Mahila Mandate: The Kashmir Files is not vile, but goes the extra mile

In an era where we fetishize opinions we don’t own and repeat dogma our agenda-led influencers feed us, The weekly ‘Moderate Mahila Mandate’ by author Meghna Pant presents unadulterated, gendered and non-partisan views on what’s happening in India’s culture today, to help you form your own unbiased opinions.

I am furious. Absolutely furious. I had avoided watching The Kashmir Files because I’d assumed it was a propaganda film, thanks to the myriad media reports and tweets. When I finally did, this week, four months after its release, it felt like a knife had been plunged into my heart and slowly twisted. For three hours, I was moved to tears and anguish for our Kashmiri Pandits. It felt like losing a loved one and not knowing what to do with the grief.

The first reason for my anger was to be denied further knowledge of and empathy towards one of the modern world’s most tragic conflicts. I remember nine years ago; I had read Rahul Pandita’s Our Moon Has Bloodclots. It had a similar impact on me as TKF. Right after reading the book, I was to meet Pandita for lunch at the India International Centre in Delhi, where I was visiting to promote my book Happy Birthday. I sat across him numb and shaken. I wanted to apologise for what the country had done to him, for what I felt I––as an Indian­­––had done to his family. By not knowing or recognising the truth. By denying it. The narrative in Pandita’s book talks exactly of what TKF highlights. As does my friend Siddhartha Gigoo’s The Garden of Solitude or Chandrakanta’s books (that underscore the plight of Pandit women in particular), or the many books on the topic. Are all these books propaganda as well? No? Why? Because they were published before 2014? Come on! If the Germans owned up, why can’t we Indians? Why are we affronted with the truth? Or is our own history too unpalatable?

What does it say about us that we’re willing to subvert the plight and flight of Kashmiri Pandits to condone terrorists? How can we wish away the heart-breaking atrocities Kashmiri Pandits went through to suit our own agenda of selective outrage? Where the hell is our humanity? Are we so desensitised that even violence at its most graphic does not move us?

Let me clarify at the onset. I didn’t think the film propagated Islamophobia or the demonisation of Kashmiri Muslims. It demonised fundamentalists, genocide and violence. If you have a heart and mind you will know that Kashmiri Muslims are not Kashmiri terrorists. So, no, my Hindu blood did not boil against Kashmiri Muslims. It boiled against those who let all this happen to our own people––the terrorists, the administration, the media, the police and the state. Because I don’t see and never will see the world with religious biases. Nor should you. If you have read a single book or article about the Kashmir genocide, or visited Kashmir and spoken to locals, you will understand this. Only then will not a moment of TKF feel dishonest or agenda-led. Only then will the main subliminal message of the film come to you––that this should not have happened and should never happen again, to anyone. Stating the truth is not vilification. Denial of the truth is.

Of course, we are aware of interpolations in any creative endeavour. You’re relying on falsified and forgotten history, laden with memories that can never be absolute. Were Schindler’s List or Hotel Rwanda telling the singular truth? No! Because memory, by its nature, is a default. Does visceral extrapolation in any story undo the veracity of those events? No! We tell and experience stories with inherent biases – gender-based, religious, political and personal. TKF has brought clarity into the Kashmiri Pandit’s journey, by reconstructing the truth from the fragmented discourse of events that took place thirty years ago! It’s not the absolute truth––that would be impossible­­––but it's truth enough. Because even if 10% of what happened is real, isn’t it horror enough?

The second reason for my anger led me to the following question: are we conflating art with the artist? What does it say about what we have become as a society? That we deny the existence of a spectacular film because we don’t like the filmmaker’s opinions? That we cannot stand to disagree with someone without making it personal or political? That we undermine someone’s talent and hard work because of some awry public image? I may not agree with some of Vivek Agnihotri’s opinions; we’ve even debated during TV panels, but I will be the first to salute him for presaging the writing, direction, tone, atmosphere and acting of his brilliant, raw and searing film. I will undoubtedly and unabashedly tell him that TKF is one of the best films I have ever seen. Kudos!

Now the third and last reason for my anger was why no one spoke enough about the women in the film, especially Sharda Pandit. The film belonged to her. Women are the biggest casualty of any conflict. Their bodies become public sites of violence, rape, lust, assault and agonizing humiliation. The diabolic cruelty with which Sharda is forced to swallow uncooked rice soaked in the blood of her just-murdered husband, or denied groceries and food, or battling sleazy overtures from old men, or still keeping whatever is left of her family together, only to ultimately have her body stripped, molested, and then ripped alive (based on what happened to Girjja Tickoo) is heart-breaking. Her journey as a married woman, widow, mother, daughter-in-law and cautionary war victim, is the most painful one. Because it is the most silent. Because it underscores how women’s bodies are mere vassals in the annals of history to be dispossessed and disposed.

What have I learnt from this experience? When a film is denounced before its release, don’t trust its reviews. Because you can love Kashmiri Muslims and Kashmir and Muslims, while also loving the film! You can condone your affinity for the film without condoning those who asked for blood to be shed in its aftermath.

As I’ve often said, you’re entitled to your own opinion but not to your own facts. Instead of consuming opinions and reputations, consume art, facts and talent. Lest you forget, opinions are like armpits. Everyone has them and most of them stink.

Meghna Pant is a multiple award-winning and bestselling author, screenwriter, columnist and speaker, whose latest novel BOYS DON'T CRY (Penguin Random House) will soon be seen on screen. 

Read all the Latest News, Trending News, Cricket News, Bollywood News, India News and Entertainment News here. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram