Swami (1977)

स्वामी

Should a spirited, intelligent young woman follow her heart and trust it to lead her to the right place?  Or should she submit to her duty, and trust that doing so will lead her to the right place?  This is the question raised by Basu Chatterjee's Swami ("master"), but the film's answer is ambiguous.

Mini (Shabana Azmi) is a bright village girl with academic ambitions and an appetite for literature and philosophy.   Her intellectual uncle (Utpal Dutt) indulges her brainy bent, encouraging her studies and running interference between Mini and her mother (Sudha Shivpuri), a pious widow whose only concern is to see Mini married, and quickly.  Mini has a nascent love affair with her neighbor Narendra (Vikram), the zamindar's son, a student in Calcutta who on his frequent visits brings her Victorian literature, listens raptly to her discourse, and is bold enough to kiss her opportunistically when they are caught together in a rainstorm.  Circumstances  conspire against Mini and Narendra, though, and soon Mini finds herself married against her wishes to a wheat trader Ganshyam (Girish Karnad) from a neighboring village.  Plunged into despair, Mini struggles to become accustomed to life in her unwanted marriage and her new home, where Ganshyam's stepmother seems to favor Mini's sisters-in-law and where her new husband treats her with a patience that she finds perplexing. 

Swami feels like an artier version of Hum dil de chuke sanam; though it differs in the details, the basic elements are quite similar:   A spunky but fundamentally immature young woman falls in love with one man but is impelled to marry another; she mopes miserably for some period of time while her husband is kinder to her than she is in any state to appreciate; and when her husband, astonishingly, lets her follow her heart, she  comes to realize which man she truly belongs with.  And like Hum dil de chuke sanam, it's an engaging story (so much the more so when one imagines watching it from the perspective of a society in which many marriages are arranged).  The first 45 minutes are the most entertaining, as we get to know Mini and her uncle, and watch her relationship with Narendra blossom.  Mini is full of life, cheeky and smart; she takes as much pleasure in gathering jasmine flowers and weaving them into garlands as she does arguing the finer points of philosophy, and it is a joy to watch her enjoying her life.

After Mini's marriage, Swami bumps off the rails a bit.  It's somewhat interesting to see Ganshyam tolerating her sullen, withdrawn behavior, and once she starts to appreciate his extraordinary kindness the film picks up again.  But there's only so much petulant moping we need to see, and Mini's interactions with the other female members of her household are grating.  As the film's conclusion is inevitable, it could be a bit swifter about getting there.  The highlight of the second half is a surprise guest appearance by Dharmendra and Hema Malini as a pair of cheery wedding dancers, whose jaunty song about a young woman running away with her love not only foreshadows the film's climax, but also comes closest to bringing a smile to Mini's face as anything else in the second hour of the film. 

The most problematic aspect of Swami is the price that Mini pays for the reward of Ganshyam's gentle protection.  It's not the loss of Narendra that is troubling - young love comes and goes - but rather the sacrifice of what really set Mini apart from her sisters-in-law and presumably from other village girls as well: her love of books and studying.  At the beginning of the film, Mini announces proudly that she is in the middle of her B.A. studies; these are dropped without a word.  Without Narendra running errands to Calcutta, Mini's supply of new books is cut off; even if Ganshyam is kind enough to supply them for her, though, with whom is she going to debate them?  It is no wonder that Mini is still crying and depressed, even after the story's resolution. 

It is this confusion of message that leaves me most perplexed about the film's intentions.  Mini has certainly come to appreciate Ganshyam's warmth, but the overwhelming sense is that she has chosen him out of duty and propriety rather than out of love - and worse, has forfeited any venture outside the traditional woman's sphere.  The film seems to say that doing the dutiful thing will get a girl a kind husband who buys her saris and electric fans, and that should be a sufficient reward. 

(A more Shabana-oriented look at Swami will be posted in the next few days at Sounds Like Power.) 

Comments

[Amodini]

I remember seeing "Swami" as a kid, on DoorDarshan, and even now I remember it as an extremely well-made and engrossing film. Yes, the end doesn't solve any "intellectual" problems - seemed to suggest that a woman's mind came second to "homeliness". However, I take comfort in the fact, that Ghanshyam's character in the film, although not an outright feminist, is of a fair and just man, and will (supposedly) support Mini in any intellectual endeavor that she might undertake.

[carla]

Amodini, do you think it's possible that Mini's sadness in the film's bookend scenes is meant to be entirely subsversive? That is, she has done the dutiful thing, but she's miserable? A film that wanted to make the pro-traditional, pro-homeliness point might show her being happy and relieved that her ordeal is over; instead, *Swami* shows her misery precisely because she knows what has been taken from her. I feel I want to watch those scenes again and see if this interpretation is not just wishful thinking on my part.

[Maajhi]

Carla, such a die-hard movie buff that you are, where do you review non-Indian movies? I can't find them, and I'm quite curious to know your thoughts on European movies like Volver and Lives of Others.

[carla]

Maajhi, believe it or not, I was only a casual viewer of movies before Hindi films found me. I have commented occasionally (very occasionally) on movies on my first blog, Geek of All Trades (link in the left sidebar, somewhere) but I never got systematic about it until I'd become obsessive about Hindi movies. And I'm still not so when it comes to movies other than Hindi movies. Weird, huh?

I've seen *The Lives of Others* and felt like I needed a shower afterwards, it was a very good movie but very manipulative and not in a pleasant way. The more I thought about it and talked it over with my husband, who thought it was simply fantastic, the more angry and disgusted I became. But the details have since escaped me - or been blotted out of my mind. I never saw *Volver*.

[Maajhi]

Volver is recommended. I wish they make a Hindi movie based on the story - with proper credits to Almodovar of course.

About obsession with movies: Really, what distinguishes Hindi movies from other ones that you can obsess over them and not others? Should be interesting to mull over. Is it that they are star-driven? Is it that ever director has a particular style? Is it the epic nature of (most) stories? Is it the songs? Is it that you can identify with the conditions of the characters?

To be honest, that's the case for me as well, but I always put it down to the fact that I was Indian, and so obviously experienced Indian movies in a very personal way, like I was experiencing them with the characters rather than just a story I was watching. I like it when movies take the audience along with them, quietly drawing them in to experience the story with them, rather than just a 'this happened, then this happened' kind of style. This is also why I used to enjoy my grandma's stories - because I felt like I was in them, part of that world.

[Lee]

I just watched Swami a couple of weeks ago and had the same reaction as you did Carla. I agree that the sadness expressed by Mini at the beginning and end was a subtle but cynical comment on marriage. Mini herself foreshadows her own predicament when she argues with Naren about marriage and whether one can truly be independent. She says that marriage is a bond which restricts independence and that this bond is good for society. So what may be good for society can sometimes require great sacrifice on the part of the individual. As you say, she has done her duty, but is miserable for it.

It's interesting that Mini's Mother never saw Naren as a suitor, whereas Mini's in-laws comment he is a very attractive catch. Guess the plot wouldn't have adanced otherwise!

Also, thanks for describing the Dharmendra/Hema Malini song. Unfortunately, so many hindi films with english subtitles do not subtitle the songs and so I am only left guessing their meaning! The subtitles also stopped in the final scenes of the film, so I wasn't sure what Mini is saying when she returns to her husband's house. I presume something similar to what she says at the beginning?

[carla]

Lee, I don't think she says anything at the end different from what was said at the beginning.

I'm very intrigued by the subtlety and cynicism that's coming to the surface the more I think about this film, and now I want to watch it again.

With respect to Naren, I think Ganshyam's family is of a higher social stratum than Mini's. Naren is Mini's zamindar - the landowner in her own village - that's a match that Mini's mother would never have realistically considered (we are not told what Naren's father thought of it but it's a safe guess he would not have approved). Ganshyam, being a businessman and a widower, might fall on the social scale somewhere between Mini and Naren - his sister could be "good enough" for Naren even Mini were not.

[carla]

Maajhi, I wrote a long response to your question of why Hindi films, and then I hit some wrong key combination and it vanished. I'll reconstruct it some other time, most likely as a post on my catch-all blog Geek of All Trades. It's a subject I've given a lot of thought to and I want to do it justice.

[Maajhi]

Cool, should make for interesting reading.

I saw Das Leben der Anderen tonight and it was subtle yet moving. Well deserves all the accolades, I say.

[yves]

Hello Carla and Maajhi,

Most interesting, this question of "why Indian films", as opposed to other ones. I believe I had tried to ask (and answer) that same question in that entry: http://www.letstalkaboutbollywood.com/article-6570236.html
What do you think?
cheers,
yves

[Maajhi]

Yves, you capture it very well. I wrote a comment on your page saying much the same, and expounding on my own ideas of why these movies differ; hope you got it cuz I couldn't see it on the site :). Tu écris en français aussi ou quoi?

[infas]

i want to buy this film.if any one know how to buy pls help me.contact infas@live.com

[carla]

Hello infas, I don't know where you are located but if you have a look at this post and its comments you might get some leads:
http://www.filmigeek.net/2007/08/filmi-geeks-sho.html
I got *Swami* from Nehaflix; it should still be available there.

[Shama]

If my memory serves me correctly, Saratchandra's novel (on which the film is based) ends with Mini going to her lover. There was some discussion when the movie was released as to the more conservative ending of the film as opposed to the novel which presumably debuted in a more conservative time.