REVIEW: Baandhon

SMALL IS BEAUTIFUL

A bickering old couple, Dandeswar and Hkawni (Bishnu Kharghoria and Bina Patangia) are sitting in a lawyer's office to file for divorce. They’re nothing like the protagonists of a Bergman chamber piece baring their souls to the camera or even of the Iranian gem A Separation, young and determined to change the course of their lives. Instead they remind you of your grandparents, who grew up in the same village, married for love and spent a lifetime together through many ups and downs including the tragic death of their only son and his wife in an accident. Still they want a divorce because they can't stand each other's snoring!

The lawyer who lends them a patient ear is Jatin (Jatin Bora) their former tenant and closest connection with a world they obviously don't understand. They've moved out of the village to a suburb of Guwahati but are sheltered in their private oasis without the trappings of information and engagement with society. So much so, they don't read newspapers and their television set is out of order. Instead, Dandeswar works in the garden, Hkawni knits and they spend their spare time on meaningless arguments––that inevitable comfort zone of long-term relationships.

Multiple National Award-winning Assamese writer-director Jahnu Barua obviously loves this couple. He is exceptionally kind to them even when circumstances aren’t, or perhaps because it is so. Jatin, despite his flourishing High Court practise, finds time to indulge them, taking copious notes (although this isn’t the first time they’ve rushed to him in a huff) or buying them a rare fancy dinner to broker peace. Their servant boy too acts like a buffer through the cold war (besides, he enjoys this distraction). Later, they must depend on the benevolence of strangers in an alien city. Such humanity was once a staple of Hindi melodramas––Mrs. D'Sa of Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Anari immediately comes to mind, or even Dharmandra, the movie star in Guddi, willing to invest time and effort in gently nudging the adolescent heroine out of her folly––but has long disappeared.

Underneath the duo's recriminations lies genuine warmth. Hkawni is angry enough to move her husband’s bedding to another room (the stark simplicity of the house reflects Baandhon’s ethos) but insists the bed be moved there too, so he’s comfortable. While Dandeswar sulks and grumbles, he wants to ensure she’s taking her medication on time. Through brief flashbacks of their childhood you realise they’ve miraculously retained that old innocence. When Jatin asks Hkawni if he’s ever hurt her physically, she says their teacher once beat her up because he gave her a love letter while he claims she pushed him into the village pond and you're left to wonder how long ago that was!

Their grandson, Ponu, is studying at the IIT in Mumbai and Dandeswar suggests he's the only reason they're alive––he says so matter-of-factly without a hint of self-pity. The film opens on the morning of 26/11 of 2008 and you know from the start where it's headed.

But before that the stillness of life in a smaller city, which allows them to escape the chaos, is disarming. Though it’s not as if they can actually shut themselves out. Dandeswar is seen doing the rounds of the local municipal office to have his son's property transferred to the grandson but has thus far met with resistance from corrupt officials. Finally a kindly bureaucrat reassures him and asks that his case be expedited––another manifestation of Barua’s eternal faith in human goodness.

The film's early portions are marked by serenity and silence––the tranquility of suburban life and the chirping of birds––thanks to the near absence of background music and unhurried editing. When the action moves to Mumbai, the tempo quickens, and a jarring background score and heightened emotions bring the narrative to crescendo.

Baandhon isn’t a film about grand gestures or grave observations on the human condition. In fact, Barua’s own convictions shine through his exposition, relying on gentle humour (even though the portions between Jatin and his wife are somewhat jarring) and intimate grief. “We are common people. The world is too big for us. We have no choice but to have trust in it,” Dandeswar reflects in a particularly moving scene.

And you so want to reach out and give him a tight hug!