ডাকবাংলা

Review: The Great Indian Kitchen

Cast: Nimisha Sajayan, Suraj Venjaramoodu, T. Suresh Babu, Ajitha V.M., Ramadevi, Siddhartha Siva
Direction: Jeo Baby
Music: Sooraj S. Kurup

Like most Bengalis of my vintage, I grew up with good food. There were two kitchens in our house – the vegetarian one, that my grandmother presided over, and the non-vegetarian one, which was looked after by our cook-cum-housekeeper. My mother, being a working woman who was not very enthused by everyday domesticity, entered the kitchen only when we wanted to eat something special or when our cook was on one of her extended leaves. Then it would be only her, of course. No one ever thought there was anything wrong with this arrangement, no matter how much it added to her stress. Even my father, an exceedingly supportive man particularly for his generation, didn’t find anything amiss in this. Her workload, along with the elaborate daily rituals of shopping, cutting, chopping, cooking and eating and then doing it all over again, instilled a deep dislike of the kitchen in me, pretty early on. No amount of nudging could get me to learn cooking. So much so that I didn’t even want to make a decent cup of tea, lest someone decided to have me make it every day. I could make a good cup of coffee and still can, but only because Dada and I enjoyed it. My mother and grandmother berated me occasionally but my grades mostly stopped such conversations.

Once I got married, there was much heavy hinting. My in-laws prided themselves on eating and serving good food, but I had too much of a thick skin to let the broad hints make any real difference. Despite some upheavals, I always had cooks and kitchen staff even when I couldn’t quite afford it. Further, I had the option of surviving without basic cooking skills as despite frequent travels, I never had to stay abroad for an extended period of time. I am very proud of my relatives and friends who love to eat, cook and feed people. But to me, the kitchen remains a symbol of domestic drudgery, perhaps unfairly so, and I usually keep this to myself.

Till I saw The Great Indian Kitchen the other night. No other film I have seen has lifted the curtain on this so forcefully. The whole paradox of slavery in the kitchen masquerading as happy domesticity and gentle demeanours masking deepest patriarchy, left my temper raging and eyes, stinging.

The story runs like this. An educated and forward-thinking dancer (Nimisha Sajayan), finds herself in an arranged marriage to a teacher (Suraj Venjaramood) from a very traditional (read patriarchal) family. While the domestic routine of the bride is cloaked at first in newly-wedded bliss, things rapidly start going downhill. The family is so patriarchal that the mother-in-law hands the toothbrush to her husband, the father-in-law, every morning. The men eat their meals first and leave the table in a mess, without a thought to the women who have to clean up and eat at the same place. Their convenience and comfort always come before consideration for their wives. The drudgery of the kitchen — cleaning, dirty vessels, plugging leaky pipes and throwing out garbage — is left to the women while the men mostly indulge themselves with phones, newspapers and yoga.

Once the mother-in-law departs for her daughter’s home, all responsibility of cooking, cleaning and other household chores falls squarely on the new bride. Add to this the joyless, forced sex every night with no consideration of her desires and a refusal to indulge in any foreplay. Employment is denied to her on the pretext of homes needing women to flourish and prosper. 

Further indignities are heaped on her while she is on her period, including denying her a proper bed. The politics of Sabarimala is clearly woven into the tale — the protagonists are seen following the news story and the court verdict that said menstruation is not an impurity and that barring entry of women into the Ayappa temple was an infringement of fundamental rights. A lot of people including the bride’s family are shown to express their disapproval of the verdict. 

The injustices pile up to boil over one fine day, with the wife feeding, and then dousing the husband and father-in-law in dirty kitchen water and walking out, to find her freedom, dignity and a new life.

Food acts as the metaphor for and the instrument of tyranny throughout this exceptionally well-made film. The dirty tables, the clogged sinks, pipes dripping filthy water and the mindless unwanted sex show up the nightmare that marriages often become even in affluent Indian families, with searing intensity. Kudos to the director, Jeo Baby, for this crowd-funded effort that showed the deep gender inequality that is alive and kicking in cities and villages of India. The excellent cast, especially the lead pair of Nimisha Sajayan and Suraj Venjaramood, ably support the director.

I found this film so much more authentic than the much-touted OTT hits — Bombay Begum, Tandav or Tribhanga. Bombay Begum was way too broad-brush, despite raising important issues such as menopause and sexual harassment at the workplace, Tandav was a soulless set piece and Tribhanga operated within a deeply flawed paradigm of unconventional choices leading to tragic consequences. And anyone who thought Kerala is a state that honours its women, is strongly encouraged to see this film. On second thoughts, why only Kerala? It happens in every corner of India, and often the world too! 

Read in Bengali