<p><em>Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl</em> opens with a rather prolonged disclaimer in which the filmmakers salute the Indian Air Force, appreciate its support for “equality in the skies” and admit to having fictionalised the real events and taken creative liberties. </p>.<p>Yet, the film has been caught in endless, unseemly controversies about factual inaccuracies and the lack of authenticity and overt negativity in the representation of the IAF and its officers, often making one overlook the little departures it manages to negotiate within the larger dramatic and fanciful tropes of mainstream Hindi cinema. </p>.<p><strong>Gunjan as everywoman</strong></p>.<p>For a film centred on a woman, <em>Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl </em>is full of men. Not astonishingly so, given the gender imbalance in the professional sphere at large, specifically when it comes to the time it is set in (1984-1999). However, more interesting is how, with the overwhelming presence of men, the film places the issue of women’s emancipation right on the male doorstep and makes them complicit in it. </p>.<p>More than as individuals it sees them in relation to the role they play in Gunjan’s life. They are important not for who they are but what they stand for. It’s the lady who is singularised; the gents are either outright impediments, purveyors of prejudiced mindsets and hollow male pride, protective well-wishers with a major saviour complex, reluctant collaborators or active allies in her march towards self-realisation. In other words, the various shades of manhood and male attitude any woman would contend with in pursuing her calling. It’s the men who turn Gunjan into an everywoman figure.</p>.<p>The opposing male principles play out within the warm folds of the Saxena family itself with the father Anup and brother Anshuman positioned at two contrasting ends of the spectrum, the love of one fuelling her independence, aspirations and happiness while the other bringing them to the ground with his feudal instincts disguised as protectiveness and righteous worry about the harm that may come her way. </p>.<p>In the process, Gunjan’s wary mother, unfortunately, gets left out rather than being a participant in the debate, becoming more an example of the unquestioning traps women often end up getting boxed in, in the face of seemingly benign male entitlement. And yet it’s an unknown air hostess—the job that her brother would condescendingly find appropriate for Gunjan—who ironically leads her to the door of the cockpit, marking her first step towards her life-long passion for flying. </p>.<p><strong>Redefining ambition</strong></p>.<p>While men might form more than 90 per cent of the cast, not a single one of them is offered as a romantic possibility. Here’s a young Hindi film heroine who is devoid of any male love interest. Her only pursuit in life is to become a pilot. She is alone but not quite lonely in the universe that she creates for herself. A song in the film, <em>“Jis pal se dekha hai tujhko mann hi pagal gaya re” </em>(I can’t get over you, from the moment I first saw you), aligns her passion to an inanimate airplane than to a human being. It’s flying that her <em>“mann ki dori”</em> (threads of her heart) are intertwined with. Even a virah geet (song of separation) like <em>“Dori tutt gaiyaan haniya</em>” is not about severing ties with the beloved but about cherished dreams getting shattered. </p>.<p>Disappointments, however, are not an excuse to get co-opted into socially approved ways. The solution for dealing with a difficult world out there is not to shut yourself in a cage but to break it and fly away. It is simplistic messaging, but is quietly impactful. </p>.<p>With the motto, ‘be what you want to be’, the film doesn’t just push the right professional buttons but also redefines patriotism as a commitment to one’s ambitions. Referencing poet Allama Iqbal’s words, <em>“Khudi ko kar buland itna, ke har taqder se pehle, khuda bande se khud pooche, bata teri raza kya hai” </em>(light your inner spark in such a way that God hands you over the responsibility and determination of your own fate), it takes it beyond the fanatical ‘Bharat Mata Ki Jai’ sloganeering to aiming to fulfil individual goals with sincerity, hard work and passion. </p>.<p><em>‘Bharat ki beti’</em> then is the one who owns, fulfils and soars high with her dreams and <em>“desh ki raksha”</em> (security of the nation) need not be in conflict with “barabari ka mauka” (a shot at equality). Away from both patriarchy and patriotism, <em>Gunjan Saxena: A Kargil Girl</em> calls for an allegiance to one’s own self without judging it within a larger moral, social or nationalistic compass. </p>.<p><em>(Namrata Joshi is an independent writer and well-known film critic. She is the author of Reel India: Cinema off the Beaten Track, Hachette, 2019)</em></p>.<p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author’s own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p><em>Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl</em> opens with a rather prolonged disclaimer in which the filmmakers salute the Indian Air Force, appreciate its support for “equality in the skies” and admit to having fictionalised the real events and taken creative liberties. </p>.<p>Yet, the film has been caught in endless, unseemly controversies about factual inaccuracies and the lack of authenticity and overt negativity in the representation of the IAF and its officers, often making one overlook the little departures it manages to negotiate within the larger dramatic and fanciful tropes of mainstream Hindi cinema. </p>.<p><strong>Gunjan as everywoman</strong></p>.<p>For a film centred on a woman, <em>Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl </em>is full of men. Not astonishingly so, given the gender imbalance in the professional sphere at large, specifically when it comes to the time it is set in (1984-1999). However, more interesting is how, with the overwhelming presence of men, the film places the issue of women’s emancipation right on the male doorstep and makes them complicit in it. </p>.<p>More than as individuals it sees them in relation to the role they play in Gunjan’s life. They are important not for who they are but what they stand for. It’s the lady who is singularised; the gents are either outright impediments, purveyors of prejudiced mindsets and hollow male pride, protective well-wishers with a major saviour complex, reluctant collaborators or active allies in her march towards self-realisation. In other words, the various shades of manhood and male attitude any woman would contend with in pursuing her calling. It’s the men who turn Gunjan into an everywoman figure.</p>.<p>The opposing male principles play out within the warm folds of the Saxena family itself with the father Anup and brother Anshuman positioned at two contrasting ends of the spectrum, the love of one fuelling her independence, aspirations and happiness while the other bringing them to the ground with his feudal instincts disguised as protectiveness and righteous worry about the harm that may come her way. </p>.<p>In the process, Gunjan’s wary mother, unfortunately, gets left out rather than being a participant in the debate, becoming more an example of the unquestioning traps women often end up getting boxed in, in the face of seemingly benign male entitlement. And yet it’s an unknown air hostess—the job that her brother would condescendingly find appropriate for Gunjan—who ironically leads her to the door of the cockpit, marking her first step towards her life-long passion for flying. </p>.<p><strong>Redefining ambition</strong></p>.<p>While men might form more than 90 per cent of the cast, not a single one of them is offered as a romantic possibility. Here’s a young Hindi film heroine who is devoid of any male love interest. Her only pursuit in life is to become a pilot. She is alone but not quite lonely in the universe that she creates for herself. A song in the film, <em>“Jis pal se dekha hai tujhko mann hi pagal gaya re” </em>(I can’t get over you, from the moment I first saw you), aligns her passion to an inanimate airplane than to a human being. It’s flying that her <em>“mann ki dori”</em> (threads of her heart) are intertwined with. Even a virah geet (song of separation) like <em>“Dori tutt gaiyaan haniya</em>” is not about severing ties with the beloved but about cherished dreams getting shattered. </p>.<p>Disappointments, however, are not an excuse to get co-opted into socially approved ways. The solution for dealing with a difficult world out there is not to shut yourself in a cage but to break it and fly away. It is simplistic messaging, but is quietly impactful. </p>.<p>With the motto, ‘be what you want to be’, the film doesn’t just push the right professional buttons but also redefines patriotism as a commitment to one’s ambitions. Referencing poet Allama Iqbal’s words, <em>“Khudi ko kar buland itna, ke har taqder se pehle, khuda bande se khud pooche, bata teri raza kya hai” </em>(light your inner spark in such a way that God hands you over the responsibility and determination of your own fate), it takes it beyond the fanatical ‘Bharat Mata Ki Jai’ sloganeering to aiming to fulfil individual goals with sincerity, hard work and passion. </p>.<p><em>‘Bharat ki beti’</em> then is the one who owns, fulfils and soars high with her dreams and <em>“desh ki raksha”</em> (security of the nation) need not be in conflict with “barabari ka mauka” (a shot at equality). Away from both patriarchy and patriotism, <em>Gunjan Saxena: A Kargil Girl</em> calls for an allegiance to one’s own self without judging it within a larger moral, social or nationalistic compass. </p>.<p><em>(Namrata Joshi is an independent writer and well-known film critic. She is the author of Reel India: Cinema off the Beaten Track, Hachette, 2019)</em></p>.<p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author’s own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>