Baahubali rape scene: How seduction in Indian cinema changed

Irrespective of how one chooses to view the line between depicting courtship and something redolent of violation in popular Hindi cinema is getting finer with each passing day. Wait. Strike that. Perhaps there isn't any difference anymore between wooing and sexually violating a woman in popular Hindi cinema. No. Wait. Hold on. Was there ever any difference in the mind of a Hindi film hero, or for that matter the men who created him, between romantically pursuing a woman and transgressing moral limits…? Perhaps not. And, this realisation becomes far more resounding when one looks back at the manner in which most popular heroes' actions have been celebrated on screen.

It's in this light that the recent "rape of Avanthika" debate that followed the release of Baahubali (2015) becomes an important discussion. For those who might be unaware, the deliberation was about the interpretation of how a seduction scene imagined by director SS Rajamouli appeared to be one where the male character forcefully feminises the female character.

In her much-discussed piece author Anna MM Vetticad questioned the lack of anger on the part of the viewer, and public in general, at one of the longest scenes of romanticised "symbolic violation" ever seen on screen. Replete with abject chauvinism openly at play, the manner in which the said scene plays out could be rightly interpreted as symbolic rape. Shiva (Prabhas) first paints a flower on a sleeping Avanthika (Tamannaah Bhatia), later scares her to stillness with the help of a snake to draw once more on her body and later physically overpowers her and "frees" her of her warrior adornments by transforming them into traditionally more feminine clothing and even smears dye to redden her lips. The warrior catches a glimpse of her own reflection and accepting her transformation submits to love. For anyone who has any knowledge about popular Hindi cinema would know that there is blatant misogyny written all over the scene and while Baahubali isn't technically a Hindi film, the fact still holds as many would argue that commercial Telugu cinema operates on far deeper onscreen misogyny. Yet, taking a contrarian view, could Rajamouli's execution of the scene be bereft of the idea being derived from it?

For decades now popular cinema, Hindi more so, has been operating on a premise that the hero or the leading man can't do anything wrong, and, therefore, their actions especially when it comes to winning over the women can't be seen as anything more than playfulness in some varying form. Take for instance the popular song from Paying Guest (1957) where Dev Anand, a young lawyer, is cavorting with a visibly restrained Nutan and croons Mana janaab be pukara nahin, kya mera saath bhi gawaara nahin (You might not have called out for me but hey, couldn't my company be palatable). That the number is considered playfully romantic today is common knowledge but Majrooh had a tough time penning the words and finally got over his block when he interpreted Dev Anand's character to "chichora", or cheap, vulgar and indecent.

But as "Dev sahab" couldn't ever possibly be cheap, therefore, this song couldn't be vulgar and, therefore, this action would never be violating. The same year also saw the arrival of the harmless rebel with a heart of gold in the form of Shammi Kapoor in Tumsa Nahin Dekha (1957) whose singing Laal chaddi maidan khadi or Badan pe sitare lapete hue was seen as anything but plain harassment because he was the hero and not the villain. In the 1980s and 1990s it was Amitabh Bachchan's Coolie-Mard phase and Govinda's Aankhen-Raja Babu number that promoted harassment in the name of whatever it was called.

The other end of the argument was that it was the villains, and not the heroes, who rape and, therefore, the actions of the hero can't be bad. This made everything that Shah Rukh Khan did onscreen in the 1990s, where he played the "villain" in Darr (1993), fair in the name of love. That the concept of consent on the woman's part isn't a staple part of standard commercial Hindi cinema writing isn't as shocking as the lack of retribution to the forceful hero is. Consider the case of Deewana Mujh Sa Nahin (1990) where Ajay (Aamir Khan), a shy photographer falls in love with a model Anita (Madhuri Dixit) and although she sees him as a friend, he refuses to give up on her. Even though Anita is engaged to Vikram, Ajay makes it clear to her that she's unaware of the fact that she is in love him and how his love will compel her to change her mind in the few weeks between the engagement and marriage.

This film came a few years before Darr and Baazigar (1993), but it treated the obsessed stalker as the silent lover, who one day simply wakes up claims that there isn't anyone as deewana, passionate, as him. Unlike Deewana Mujh Sa Nahin, the "villain" or the "anti-hero" in Darr or Baazigar dies in the end and somewhere the filmmakers believed that the right message had been sent across. Yet the sheer popularity of these films or at least the stars that played these characters ended up doing something else in the audiences' minds.

The fact that Baahubali's much talked about scene is being interpreted for something that it might not be intending somewhere also hides the irony of blatant violation that otherwise is being accepted in the name of creativity. The manner in which many of us reacted to Salman Khan's Dabangg made the film appear to be an ode to all things Hindi filmy and while some raised the issue of women being objectified as Munnis, no one seemed to have a problem with Rajjo (Sonakshi Sinha) being practically coerced by Chulbul Pandey (Salman Khan) into loving him. Why? Could it be because we have come to accept certain antiquated stereotypical behaviors that popular cinema, Hindi or Telugu, can't look beyond as the norm in popular films? Psychologically there has been a bias that women often seek dominant bad boys and although this could happen for a host of reasons, one of them has something to do with the idea of protection.

Now, extrapolate this to Rajamouli while coming up with the scene and would it be incorrect to think that the filmmaker, in a creatively archaic manner nonetheless, wanted to show that a warrior in times such as the ones the film is set in, might subconsciously seek a dominant partner who could not only offer protection but also excitement? Both being the different motivations those psychologically two different types of women - anxious and disinhibited or susceptible to boredom - regard as reasons for seeking dominant partners.

It's not just Bollywood or Tollywood, but even mainstream Hollywood that seems to be ingrained with some level of misogyny as, dare I say, standard operating procedure in films. Most popular culture displays this and unfortunately at most places it's celebrated as much by women as by men. For over a century, Mills & Boon have been considered the holy grail of romance and "Mills & Boon romance" is a part of our lexicon in spite of many women calling it "misogynistic hate speech".

In her piece for The Guardian, Julie Bindel mentions reading 20 M&B novels as research for a dissertation on "romantic fiction and the rape myth" and found that every book had a scene where the heroine is "broken in" both emotionally and physically by the hero. This thing is not only the hook but also the entire premise of Fifty Shades of Grey, a book that has now come to be defined as an erotic romance novel. The book has sold over 125 million copies globally and been translated into 52 languages. There had been outrage over the bondage, dominance and sadism/masochism (BDSM) laden content to the extent that it was suggested that the romance book's underlying theme is that BDSM are normal and pleasurable.

A few even advocated the book/film's case by suggesting that it fleshed out legalistic concepts such as consent and unequal negotiation into a living experience. Closer home the songs of Honey Singh with their unapologetic misogynistic content are enjoyed by an equal number of women and the artist is touted as a youth icon. This isn't an argument to justify or pontificate Rajamouli's case but to elucidate something as heinous as rape from a scene that most likely might have been a pathetic attempt to display sexual tension between his characters attaches the wrong kind of discourse. Shiva's character, and by argument Rajamouli's screenplay, might not have intended to commit rape but yes, his, and by logic Rajamouli's, device in the absence of consent is tantamount to a crime.

The depiction of consent is a tricky thing for most filmmakers and it ought to be. It is a tool that makes fans and followers of popular stars interpret onscreen actions into real life decision. In Hannibal (2001) Dr Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) drugs Clarice Starling (Julianne Moore), kidnaps her and brings her home for a sleepover. Not only that he dresses her in exquisite evening wear (suggesting that he stripped her naked before) and when she comes to her senses treats her to some fine wine and even offers literally a piece of her nagging colleague's (Ray Liotta) brain but when Clarice makes it clear that he won't win her over and handcuffs herself to him, Lecter, a psychopath but genius with a mind boggling IQ nonetheless, knows that a no still means no. Unlike other heroes, the arch villain has no qualms about chopping off his own hand rather than killing Clarice in order to escape.

Going back to Julie Bindel's article she makes an interesting point about how heterosexual romantic fiction promotes the sexual submission of women to men. Although majority of such fiction including Fifty Shades of Grey, is written by women, Bindel's horror towards the genre wasn't directed towards either the women who wrote or, read them for the reason that she didn't believe in blaming women for their oppression. She took the argument a step further and said that women were the only oppressed group required to not only submit to their oppressor but also love and sexually desire them at the same time. For most men, I believe, Bindel's distinction between what was wrong and justifying it is of paramount importance.

For an industry that is unmistakably patriarchal the symbolism of violation is alive and kicking and it's time that we as consumers question its existence. The argument of supply only existing to meet the demand is being offered by the film and music video industry to abdicate any responsibility and this isn't going to change. Have you noticed how the villains have stopped raping and violating women on screen the way they used in the cinema of the 1970s, 1980s, and even the 1990s? That's because heroes are doing that and worse and getting away with it. The question is how long would we be fine with such heroes.