Dor (2006) - A Review

DOR (2006) - A Review 

As a kid, I remember watching this movie on television, and being mesmerized by it. A few days ago, I came across it incidentally, and could not resist the temptation to re-watch it. So here goes.

Dor, is a movie by Nagesh Kukunoor, featuring Ayesha Takia, Gul Panag and Shreyas Talpade in the lead roles. The film is an adaptation of the Malayalam movie, Perumazhakkalam (2004) and revolves around the lives of two radically different women – Zeenat and Meera, and the companionship that develops between them. The story starts off as a quest, and becomes a simultaneous social critique as well a display of female bond and solidarity, and it undoubtedly one of the most powerful movies I have watched till date.

The story starts with a series of picturesque scenes from the hills of Himachal Pradesh, accompanied by the brilliance of music by Salim-Sulaiman. The song, “Yeh hosla, kaise jhuke, yeh aarzoo, kaise ruke”, is echoed till the end, and is one of the most powerful Bollywood songs one can hear. The opening sequence has Zeenat fixing a window of her house, perched atop a ladder. It wastes no time establishing what the viewer can expect from the character – a starkly independent woman, subverting the norms of patriarchy, one blow-of-the-hammer at a time. She has taken up the role normally assigned to the masculine – mending and fixing houses, while her beloved waits at the bottom talking to her.

The next scene puts forward an immediate contrast, as it shifts from the lush mountains to the arid desert of Rajasthan, with Ayesha Takia (Meera) dancing her heart out in front of her husband, only to veil herself and hastily hide all traces of her dancing on the arrival of her in-laws. The grandmother calls Meera’s husband ‘Joru ka Ghulaam’, when he offers to bring her the lassi, as it is Meera who is supposed to do it, being a woman. Meera has no voice in front of her in-laws, has to always keep her head bowed down, and there can be no display of affection between the spouses outside the inner bed chambers of the house. Alternatively, Zeenat is not located within a family. She gets marries to Amir, without his family’s support, with only the priest being present, echoing yet again, the agency she occupies in the movie. The two husbands leave for Saudi, and the contrast between the two farewells is stark – there is no space given to Meera to bade a proper farewell – it is the men-folk who say their goodbyes to him, the women stay veiled in the fringes; Zeenat, on the other hand does not fear about ‘modesty’ as she hugs him goodbye.

Keeping with the time, both get once-a-month calls and letters from their husbands. One sees Zeenat running and hopping towards the post-office and STD booths, always alone, while there is always a male figure (her brother-in-law) accompanying Meera and her measured, careful steps, whenever she goes out. This constant vigilance inside the house as well as outside is a phenomenon Indian woman still have to face, even after 14 years of the release of this film. Meera describes her husband’s voice, as “apni azaadi ki awaaz”, bringing one to terms with her world, the life of the women revolves around men. Her freedom is not hers anymore – she can exercise it only through her husband.

One day, Meera calls her husband only to know that he has died in a conflict. The shattering of her dreams, hope, and world is represented by the very graphic scenes of women making her shed her jewelry, scrubbing her sindoor, taking away every color from her clothes and her life. The sheer hopelessness, sorrow and resignation to the imminent colorless life of widowhood as seen in Meera’s eyes haunt the viewer. The grandmother, being a widow herself, talks about this life - “jeete jaagte insaan ko ek pal mein bejaan, kathputli bana diya jaata hai”. One cannot help but sympathize with her at this moment, being forced to live her husband’s death even decades later. Meera’s grief is intensified by the taunts from her mother-in-law, the general disregard from her father-in-law, along with the norms the society has assigned for widows – isolation, restriction of moblity, exclusion from festivals and daily life of the household. She instantly transforms from the “ghar ki Lakshmi”, to a burden, to be pitied and controlled. Meera’s reply when her grandmother caresses her brings the ostracized life of a widow to the forefront, when she says, “do mahine mein pehli baar kisine mujhe chua hai”.

Zeenat, on the other side, learns that her husband is responsible for the death of Shankar (Meera's husband) and that his life sentence could be spared if she gets the papers of forgiveness signed by Meera. She sets out on a quest to find Meera, with a photograph as her only clue, no knowledge of where in Rajasthan she will find her. One finds invincible determination and courage - a quest for her beloved’s freedom – reversing the conventional norms of the hero as the savior. She, soon, is accompanied by Shreyas Talpade, a Rajasthani behrupiya, who selflessly offers to help in her mission. In an otherwise intense movie in the scorched desert, the character of Shreyas offers some light-hearted comedy, with his adorable personality and wit. He also becomes a tool to question the harrowing patriarchy; in a conversation with Zeenat, he reflects about how the widowers could remarry and start a new life, while the widow is stuck as a servant of the house, forbidden from any contact with men, or a trace of happiness. Meera refers to her in-law’s house as a ‘prison’ multiple times during the movie - When Zeenat asks if she will return to the temple, she says, “Jail se nikalne ka ek hi mauka milta hai”.

Leela is an important character showcasing the attitude of the Rajasthani society towards a girl-child. Meera talks about how Leela was found in a well, discarded, before Shankar rescued her. The society’s contempt on the birth child because, “museebat zyaada, munafa kam”, is a typical example of how the girls are used as a means of transfer of property (dowry), and is sentenced to a life of domestic labour. Meera’s father’s decision to trade sexual favors from Meera to the factory owner to get back his lost haveli is another example of how the women are reduced to objects to be exchanged.

From the desperation of one woman to save her beloved, and the grim widowhood of the other, stems a friendship which defines the movie. Zeenat is fuelled by hope, and Meera is driven to hopelessness, but they find a confidante in each-other. Zeenat helps Meera rediscover her freedom. From the smallest acts of eating rasgulle (which is forbidden for Meera), and wandering around the desert, to progressively more ‘blasphemous’ things like dancing in public, Meera finds her mobility step-by-step, aided by Zeenat. Meera resists initially, saying “vidhwae shok karti hai Zeenat, naachti nahi”, but she unlearns this internalized patriarchy. She still cannot completely break free from her family though; as she approaches the overwhelming structure of the gate, she adjusts her ghoonghat, her head droops and she transform into the former servile, docile creature.

The movie is one of the few places where one witnesses a platonic relationship between a man and a woman without it leading anywhere romantic. Although at one-point Shreyas Talpade’s character confesses his love for Zeenat, but he knows about its impossibility, and continues supporting her nonetheless. The story becomes a wonderful example of give-and-take, with Meera providing Zeenat the much-needed emotional support and female comradery and Zeenat aiding in her freedom from the clutches of the soul-sucking institution she is trapped in.

The conclusion of the movie is very powerful; Meera initially rejects Zeenat’s appeal to sign the papers because she feels betrayed by Zeenat’s truth. Rightly so, she walks out of Zeenat’s life only to be forced into a room by the in-laws with the door locked on her face. The sudden authority conferred upon her to determine the life and death of a person horrifies her, “mujhe yeh shakti nahi chahiye, yeh adhikaar nahi chahiye”, she cries out in front of her grandmother, simultaneously realizing the value of the freedom she has experienced in the past few days, and her current state of captivity. She decides to step out; for the first time in the movie one sees her talking back to her in-laws, resisting the physical atrocity to be committed on her by the father-in-law. She gets out of the haveli, of her family – of the institution. She runs to the temple and finds the papers in a knot in the tree where she had urged Zeenat to pray for her husband – the tree of hope, faith and prayer. As she hands the papers to Zeenat on the train, one could not help but wonder if she would leave with Zeenat to a life to freedom, or will she stay back and fight for her rights in the same repressive structure she has been placed in? As Zeenat extends a hand from the moving train, Meera runs – she runs to leave back her veiled, drooped headed widowhood. She finally grasps Zeenat’s hand and boards the train. One is reminded of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge from this scene, but the power emanating from this scene leaves DDLJ behind by miles.