I discovered Srividya's sheer range much later in my life, thanks to KG George's films. It was George who mined the actor in her, and she grabbed every opportunity that he threw at her. Be it the unhappy, abused wife of a scheming businessman in Adaminte Variyellu, and the debauched Alice who steps out of marriage to satiate her sexual needs in Irakal, the actor is startlingly nuanced. On this day, I decided to revisit one of her popular characters--Rohini in Idavazhiyile Poocha Minda Poocha.
Some of the motifs associated with an MT Vasudevan Nair heroine are there in Rohini. In college when her classmates are having conversations about boys, she is buried inside Shakespeare and Kingsley. They call her frigid and she laughs it off. Even her concept of romance is attached to her allure for poetry. A tad like a grownup Ammini. But the similarity ends there though. When Rohini meets the eminent economist, Dr Raja, she is instantly floored by his outward sophistication and command over English. Directed by Hariharan and written by MT, Idavazhiyile Poocha Minda Poocha, has adultery at its core and views it through an unapologetically moralized lens.
Very few filmmakers have succeeded in keeping the condemnatory lens away when it comes to such narratives and Hariharan is no different. When Rohini gets married to Dr Raja who has an active career and social life, she takes a while to get used to his routine. In an earlier scene, barely a day after her marriage, when Rohini waits eagerly for her husband to have dinner, she faces the first of her many instances of disappointment. That he chooses to have dinner without waiting for her distresses the new bride. And then the cracks slowly appear, including his inability to satiate her sexual needs. But the allegories are crude at best. As if to consolidate her disappointment, you have a metaphorical scene with a firecracker running out of steam.
Raja (Madhu) presumably doesn’t come across as a cruel, demanding spouse. On the contrary, he is gentle and caring but too preoccupied to meet her needs. He assumes that she is happy, and they never seem to have had a conversation about her needs. Though Raja claims to want his spouse to pursue a career, one gets the feeling that he would rather she take up a job that doesn’t disrupt his household. That’s perhaps why he approves of her college lecturer post.
Raja is also a man who takes far too much pride in his upper-caste leanings. People fawn over his lineage and Raja happily laps it up. At one point a colleague says he is so “illustrious that even his swear word is limited to calling someone monkey.”
It's when adultery enters the frame that the narrative starts to degenerate. Blame it on the lack of nuance. When Rohini (Srividya) gets acquainted with Raja’s friend Bhagyanathan (MG Soman), though we know that the plot will now take a nasty turn, what’s disturbing is how the Bhagyanathan-Rohini affair is staged. Since time immemorial the morally corrupt, hypersexualized celluloid woman has always got a raw deal as opposed to the same sins committed by the man. And when she stands within the sanctimonious structures of domesticity, rest assured she will be publicly court-martialled. But here woefully, consent is an alien term. When Bhagyanathan sets out to seduce Rohini, he knows she is vulnerable and unhappy. Right from the moment in the car when he touches her without consent or coerces her into having sex at the beach, it all comes across as the wanton, callous games of a womaniser. The overwhelming guilt and her own unmet needs push her to overlook his manipulation. At no point does it look as if Rohini is a happy beneficiary of the affair. On the contrary, she seems to be writhing in shame and guilt. And it doesn’t help that Raja remains kind but distant. The subsequent reveal and Raja’s reactions are done without melodrama. Typically Rohini isn’t given a chance to explain herself and Raja decides for both of them.
Despite the fact that the film was made at a time when quivering lips and demure glances were a signal for desire, Srividya lends tenderness and dignity to Rohini. Her large voluminous eyes hold an appeal that brings a naivety to the mostly unexplored theme called female desire. Look out for the scene when she cries helplessly after returning from the beach, petrified to discover her hitherto unseen wild side. Or her inability to face Raja after he catches them red-handed. While Madhu occasionally registers, especially in the scene where he announces their separation.
If nearly a decade later, KG George kept the prying gaze of society away from Kaimal and Susheela’s life when the latter eloped with her lover in Mattoral, Hariharan plainly puts Rohini in the dock. From the man Friday, her students who indirectly label her a nymphomaniac to her lover who sneers and judges her sexual needs, Rohini is already a fallen woman. Three years later, Bharathan casually absolved his much-married Professor Krishna Pillai and father of four for falling hopelessly infatuated with his 20-something student in Kattathey Kilikoodu. Not just that he is also gratefully welcomed back by his wife and children.
But the sad reality is that even now media and society continue to label women who step out of their marriages. Even when a man gets involved in adultery, it is the other woman who is judged. Instead of having narratives that open a discourse around the dysfunctionality of marital relationships that lead to seeking validation outside, lack of agency for women, and the other holes in the system, a film like Idavazhiyile Poocha Minda Poocha only serves to moralize women and be slavish around patriarchy.
Published: 19 Oct 2023, 09:45 am IST
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