Ami on English Vinglish

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

Over the past few years, two adjectives have been used increasingly often in conjunction with Hindi Cinema: modern and subversive. In my opinion, these words are mostly used unsuitably, never more so than when describing the heroines of recent Hindi Cinema. There is little that is modern or new about a harshly condemned sex symbol who commits suicide or a sexy party girl who loses her man to a more homely woman; these are some of the oldest narratives in the book. Even in the rare instances when these heroines actually happen to be liberated women, there is always a comforting sense of otherness about them; it’s impossible for even the most conservative member of the audience to be perturbed by the modernity of a woman who is so clearly ‘westernized’ and so far removed from any conventional notion of an Indian woman. Gauri Shinde’s masterstroke then, is to make a heroine out of that most enduring (and unassuming) symbol of traditional Indian womanhood, the sari-clad mother and wife.

This is a character who is one of the most omnipresent archetypes in our media: the self-sacrificing maa of Indian cinema, the quintessential housewife of Indian advertising. We’ve seen her a million times before, yet we’ve never seen her quite like this. And that’s because this film is not about a mother worrying over the wellbeing of her gangster son (as in the masala movies), or about the housewife who is concerned for her husband’s health (as in the adverts for low-cholesterol oil) and her baby’s sensitive skin (as in the adverts for diapers); in English Vinglish, it’s Sashi Godbole’s own dreams, feelings and ambitions that are at the forefront. And by showing us the world through Sashi’s eyes, (where a few minutes of peace to pursue the newspaper is an impossible desire, where the subway station metro card represents an almost insurmountable obstacle and where callous condescension and cruel barbs are an everyday staple at the dining table) Gauri succeeds in making us view the many Sashis of this world in a different light.

There is so much about Sashi Godbole that is so familiar, and every viewer is bound to see a glimpse of his/her mother, grandmother, sister or wife in her. And yet, Sashi’s character is far from being a Bollywood cliché: how often is that you see a Hindi film where the romantic attentions of an attractive suitor are merely the means to the end, and not the goal itself? But that is precisely what happens in English Vinglish: when Sashi attracts the attentions of a hunky French chef she doesn’t lose herself in either the rain-drenched, chiffon-clad dreams of our bashful heroines or in the frat boy fantasies of our heroes. Instead, Sashi reacts in the manner of a very mature and intelligent adult, prioritizing respect and self-empowerment over infatuation.

When the typical Indian mother and wife is presented to us so persuasively as an unappreciated artist, it is but natural that Satish and Swapna aren’t the only ones who feel guilty when Sashi delivers her winning speech during the film’s final scene. The audience feels a slight twinge of unease as well, for taking for granted the Sashis in our own lives. And this is why I am grateful to Gauri Shinde and Sridevi for giving us a cotton sari-clad, Marathi-speaking, laddoo-making housewife who can accurately be described using those oft-abused adjectives: modern and subversive.