Why was Malaysian-born actress Michelle Yeoh chosen to play Aung San Suu Kyi in the latter’s biopic “The Lady,” Morgan Freeman chosen to play Nelson Mandela in “Invictus,” but Priyanka Chopra chosen to play Mary Kom in the biopic on the Manipuri boxer in a country which is ostensibly proud of its diversity? Let’s not pretend to be politically correct here. The answer is simple: an oriental face is not acceptable to the general public of this multicultural India. Even the female form depicted in Konark or Khajuraho temples does not represent the Indian idea of beauty; it is the hourglass figure seen on fashion ramps in the country or its dream site Bollywood that does. Curvaceous actresses are also not the usual favourite of Mumbai’s filmmakers; they only appeal to cine-goers who are south of the Vindhyas.
Mary Kom is not from the south or the north of the Vindhyas; nor does she have the typical “Indian” look. Her compatriot, Lin Laishram, a model who acted in the film, was quoted saying: “I do face discrimination in every audition. They categorise me as ‘foreign’ or ‘Asian.’ Whether in movies or in ad films, they want someone with fairer skin and bigger eyes.” This is a reality that Bollywood couldn’t ignore while making the biopic. Ms Kom’s journey from rags-to-riches is a saleable product, especially for the growing population of an aspiring India under the neoliberal economy, and for Bollywood’s NRI consumers. But, presumably, they will not accept somebody who doesn’t have the typical “Indian” look to play her role.
Race matters The fact is race matters in India. A country that promotes fairness creams cannot be colour-blind. Along with skin colour, one’s facial features also matter. Bollywood is not an island; it is bound to reflect India. As a site of popular culture, it has been presenting its template of its idea of a nation.
“What is ironical is that the ordeal Mary Kom has gone through in life includes her struggle against those very stereotypes propagated in Bollywood”
What is ironical is that the ordeal Ms Kom has gone through in life includes her struggle against those very stereotypes and prejudices propagated in Bollywood. Yet, the makers of the biopic want to tell us that very story by reaffirming and reproducing the same stereotypes and their rationales.
Incidentally, the exclusion of those who don’t look typically “Indian” is not unrelated to the exclusion of the same people from history (and correspondingly, their inclusion in anthropology) or from the liberal framework of governance which abhors using the military as a means of regular administration. It is also the same exclusion that informs those day-to-day acts of violence and discrimination against people from the Northeast in the so-called mainland.
Thus, Bollywood’s inability to cast an actor from a similar ethnic (for the want of a better expression) or cultural group for the role of the main protagonist in this film speaks of a larger issue that goes beyond cinema: race.
The idea of India The concept of race might have undergone changes from its initial essentialist biological conceptions to contemporary discursive formulations (example, “racism without race” and “neo-racism”). However, whichever way one may examine this concept, the fact remains that the nationalist idea of India has racial underpinnings, generating exclusions and violence. Categories such as “Indo-Aryan” and “Dravidian” were invoked to conceptualise people in racial terms. For instance, unlike Indologist Max Müller who used these classification as linguistic categories, nationalists such as Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay used them as racial categories.
Incidentally, nation, etymologically speaking, has its root in the Latin word “natio” which means “to be born.” The idea of race, too, invokes some notion of common ancestry. Nationalists often invoked this biological metaphor. Bhudev Mukhopadhyay, a 19th century nationalist intellectual, described Hindus as those “born from the womb” of Bharat Mata, and Muslims as her “adopted children.” This distinction between “biological” and “adopted” in some sense continues to mark the Muslims as the “other” in this country.
Such racial “othering” plays out sharply in the case of India’s Northeast. “South East Asia begins from India’s Northeast” goes the refrain, especially in the context of the Look East Policy. It speaks of an entity which is politico-geographically South Asia but racially and culturally South East Asia. Affirming this reality, noted psephologist Yogendra Yadav once observed, “physically and mentally...[t]here... definitely is a cultural and ethnic difference with people from the mainland.” That Ms Laishram would be called “Asian” or many people from India’s Northeast would be mistaken for a Chinese or South East Asian allude to this specific racial marking. And when this “racial other” is positioned as “backward” or “tribal” (anthropological subjects), it produces a judgment that converts the “difference” to being “inferior.” This informs the racist attitude towards the people from India’s Northeast.
Bollywood reproduces the same racism. From the civilising nationalist mission (“Yeh Gulistan Hamara,” 1972) and neutralising the recalcitrant anti-national “other” (“Tango Charlie,” 2005) to the latest act of exclusion in “Mary Kom,” Bollywood has its share of contribution in propagating this attitude. Tellingly, Irom Sharmila’s saga or the human tragedies of the protracted conflicts in India’s Northeast that implicate the military are no inspiration for Bollywood.
Hollywood has similar race issues, but it has been constrained by public consciousness on the issue. However, India is still beset in denial mode on the question of race, despite the fact that Article 15 of the Constitution talks against race-based discrimination and India is signatory to the international covenant against racial discrimination. This is not to deny that Bollywood has changed over the years. Various themes which are closer to lived experiences, aspirations and dilemmas have been depicted in Bollywood productions over the last decade or so. Indeed, the changed political economy of the country, the expansion of electronic media and the shift from single theatre to multiplexes have transformed not only the tastes of the audience but also the nature of the movie business.
Consequently, these changes have enabled filmmakers to take chances with their craft and depart from earlier kinds of movies. Thereby, some semblance of realism has come to be a part of these new films. Yet, despite such changes, the makers of a biopic on a living sport legend and national icon, chose not to cast an actor from a similar ethnic or cultural background. This speaks volumes of the entrenched and insidious nature of racial stereotypes including the condescending outlook towards the people of India’s Northeast.
(A. Bimol Akoijam is a political psychologist and social analyst who teaches at JNU, New Delhi.)
