Praveen Lulekar
A story can be narrated in a number of ways. Most
familiar among them – implied and direct. What we saw a few weeks ago, in Fandry,
was a film that told everything quietly, through its camera angles, the silence
between characters and a host of symbolisms. Dhag is a simplistic
narrative that tells everything in detail, explicitly. It is the classic form
of story-telling where there is a space for every aspect of the story, in fact,
story is its mainstay. As a viewer, the most important factor is that it
affects you by hitting at the right places.
Dhag is the story of
the Masne family that is, by caste, in-charge of the cremations in the village.
Each member stands for an alternate approach of looking towards the paradoxical
profession. The head Shirpa (Upendra Limaye) has accepted it but is suffering
silently. He has developed his own philosophy of not being scared of death now,
but of life. His suppressed agony incarnates full-fledge in his school going
son Kishnya (Hansraj Jagtap), who is openly critical of the work. The mother
Yashoda (Usha Jadhav) is practical about it – she is too busy in household
chores to burn in philosophy, but plans to educate her children and drift away
from the profession in future. But unlike the son, she is not in a hurry .Lastly,
the pious grandmother (Suhasini Deshpande)
considers the work holy and silences any rebel with the fear of a shaap (curse).
The beauty of the story is that none of the view is
‘the’ truth. Everyone is correct with respect to their age and beliefs, but
that puts them in contradiction with each other. What emerges prominently among
these tussles is that between the father and the son. It is portrayed
brilliantly with the son’s outbursts and the father’s silence. The writers (Shivaji
Patil, Nitin Dixit) show maturity when they do not make the boy’s anguish
arbitrary. It is backed by events, and the dialogues capture a child’s
mentality perfectly when he repeats those very words which were used to abuse
him. Dialogues also play a role in the thematic integrity when even the
proverbs are relevant to the profession. Tula mautilaa bolawala hota, tu
baravyala yetoes (I had called you for the cremation, you’re coming on the
twelfth ritual day), Yashoda says to her son when he is late to get the milk.
The irony of earning a living off the dead is the
central thought of the story. It protrudes time and again through the content –
a song kunaache saran, kunaache maran,kunachi bhakar, for example, is written exceptionally well
(lyrics – Shiv Kadam). The background music (Sunil Kaushik) might be over the
top for lovers of subtlety. But the overall mood of the film allows a space for
it. The treatment also hides the technical rawness for a first time watcher.
The camera work, to say the least, is basic. But there is logic in it to raise
the complete picture inclusive of the surroundings. Actors interacting in the
background while blurred hens eat grains in the fore gives you feel of the
village life. There are no fancy scene transitions; gloomy lighting might also
be a problem to a casual viewer.
The heart and the honesty of the film is its
strength. It is brought out precisely by the actors. Limaye, in particular, has
lived the character through mannerisms more than anything else. You will
remember each of them for their ease. Child artist Jagtap also deserves a
special mention for his consistent and memorable character. It is through him
that we see and feel the film. Dhag is story-telling that we have grown
up watching. Don’t miss this!
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