Being a ‘Woman Director’

Up until a few years ago, the label of being a ‘woman director’ used to upset me. When asked, “How is it to be a woman director?” I would retort, “Good. In any case, I don’t know how it feels to be a male director!” But of late, I have started to own the identity. In a time where we are struggling to create more space for women directors, I now say, ‘Yes, I am a woman director and I want to see more of us.’

Since the time I acted in Fire in 1996, I have seen more and more women behind the camera, in every department. It is common to see female assistants and even producers, as women are considered to be good at multitasking. But as heads of creative departments, the numbers are still very low. I am happy that Manto had two young and talented women helming their respective departments. Both Rita and Sneha brought a different energy to their teams and a fresh perspective to their work. Today, there are many more women getting into the film industry, who in the coming years, will play significant roles in the filmmaking process. They will then open doors for other younger women, creating a more optimistic and secure environment.

I have been asked if I have experienced sexism on set and whether people behave differently with female directors than with their male counterparts. The short answer is yes, and the longer one is difficult to articulate. These days, the sexism is often subtle and therefore more challenging to counter. If someone is outright discriminatory or abusive, it is much easier to deal with. But when the subtext, the choice of words, the gaze and the undermining is covert, it becomes difficult to call out. One can clearly feel it, but if spelt out, it is reduced to ‘stop being a feminist all the time’ or at the very least, ‘you are reading too much into it’.

Often, I have found the crew speaking differently to my male peers in the way they take instructions and give suggestions. They find it easier to play subordinate roles to male leadership. All these dynamics are a constant annoyance. My antennae have sharpened over the years, making it difficult to not notice even the smallest of biases. So, either I can spend all my time and energy fighting these battles, or I can ignore most of them and respond only when it becomes unbearable. For my own sanity, I choose to do the latter.

Moreover, the burden of looking a certain way is disproportionately higher for a woman than it is for a man. And not just for actors or models, but even for professors, scientists, a politicians or filmmakers. I was surprised that even on set, this seemed to matter to ensure that the stills and selfies came out right. What I would wear at 5am for the shoot was the last thing on my mind when I had a hundred things to deal with. I find even public appearances fatiguing. In Cannes and other festivals, apart from being a director who had to worry about the film projections, invitee lists, interviews and so much more, I had yet another thing to juggle with.

How one is to ‘look’ is fairly low on my list of priorities, but so much rides on appearances that even those of us who seem to have more agency than others are unable to escape it. It is fatiguing to constantly struggle with how much or how little to pander to the narrow standards of beauty. We women have internalized these expectations. On the other hand, a man has a much wider range to draw from—whether it is the bearded look, dishevelled hair or the clean-shaven, slick look—they all fit in within the perception of masculinity.

At times, I think aloud and like to hear different perspectives to mull over before making a decision. But this is often misunderstood as a sign of weakness and lack of confidence. A director does not need to know everything, but needs to constantly make choices. And the more informed one is, the better are the choices. I believe it is better to be confused than to be too sure. And I feel no shame in asking questions or sharing my dilemmas. Over time, most people figure out that these are not failings but just my process to reach the best conclusions.

I don’t think most men are aware of their sense of entitlement and how it impacts others around them. I felt this less acutely in Manto than I did in Firaaq. It could be because of changing times or maybe the team could see that I had done extensive homework for the film. Most women filmmakers tend to be more democratic instead of being top-down. This is appreciated by those who are comfortable in their own skin, but those who are still finding their place prefer the comfort of a set hierarchy. While navigating through all these human dynamics, the last thing on my mind is to ‘act’ like a director. I know I am one, and that is enough for me. As a director, I will bring with me my life experiences, my vulnerabilities, my strengths and my female gaze.

The Female Gaze

Neither Firaaq nor Manto are ‘women-centric’. Given my engagement with issues of women, some were downright disappointed that I chose a male protagonist for my second film. And some felt the socio-political context wasn’t feminine enough. But many found the female lens palpable in the way the characters were portrayed in both the films.

For instance, I have barely shown any violence in my films. Considering that both films are set in violent times, a man would have been tempted to show a lot more blood and gore. Also, the women characters are defined by more than just their femininity. In my adoration of Manto, I did not want to forget or undermine the trauma of his wife. My empathy for Safia was no less than it was for Manto.

In the depiction of sexuality, my own experiences of being a woman and an actor have played a significant role. I have seen many films where there has been complete nudity, and yet neither does it titillate, nor is the filmmaker’s intent questionable. Then there are films where you know sexuality and nudity are used to sensationalize the film and feed the male voyeur. While no one can control or predict what the viewer ‘sees’ in a film, it is the intent of the filmmaker which is magically felt, and that makes all the difference.

As mentioned earlier, ‘Thanda Gosht’ was one of the six stories for which Manto was tried for ‘obscenity’. Some critics and even a couple of team members felt I was holding back the sexual aspects of the story that warranted a more explicit telling. Some felt I was not doing justice to Manto’s own writings which had more graphic descriptions. While reading a story, each reader imagines it subjectively. However, when written words are converted to moving images, it is the filmmaker’s definitive interpretation that is presented to the audience. Showing nudity may have been more ‘accurate’, but in my opinion, it would have distracted the audience and diluted the essence of the story. And that would have defeated the purpose.

There are a fair number of male filmmakers who have made incredibly thoughtful films about women. In India, we have had strong female stories and representations in the films of Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, Mrinal Sen, Shyam Benegal, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, and Rituparno Ghosh, among others. Yet it is no reason why women cannot tell their own stories.

Women are impacted by all things in the world just as men are. When male directors can make films across genres and themes, why, as women directors, are we expected to limit our choices? The narrative has been controlled by men for the longest time. We also need to see women behind the camera to know what disturbs, inspires and impacts them. The ones in front of it are often stereotyped or objectified to tell a story in which they have little else to do. Alison Bechdel devised a simple test to bring home this point. A film passes the ‘Bechdel Test’ if two women talk to each other about something other than men, at least once in the film. Many add that they must be named as well. Instinctively, both my films pass the test.

I have always believed that films do not necessarily have to be womencentric to be gender sensitive. Instead, it is about the representation of women which needs to reflect our diverse reality—strong and vulnerable, funny and serious, old and young—and all the other shades that exist. As an actor, I have been offered many ‘feminist’ roles, but most often, they had very simplistic characterizations. I tried to stay away from such interpretations that do not bring out the multiple layers and complex struggles of women.

I feel that the feminist movement has a lacuna—we haven’t engaged enough with men and, for obvious reasons, that has suited them quite well. Women have gone far ahead in the questions they are asking and in the choices they are making. The voices have grown in numbers and in decibels. But the men have been left behind within their archaic, patriarchal mould. And so, when I am asked, why did I choose to make a film on Manto, I tell them that one of the reasons was that it is important to celebrate men who have championed the cause of women.

Feminism is understood differently by different people. Each defines it in relation to their own experience and expectations. For me, a film reflects a female gaze in the way it chooses to tell the story and depicts its women characters, even in the smallest of roles. I am aware that my experiences of being a woman must impact the way I think and feel, however subconscious it may be. But when I am on set, working with an actor or a crew member, I am simply the director, who happens to be a woman.

The Juggling Act

Many women multitask, and so do I. But the Manto journey took this art to a different level. My son’s growing up was almost parallel to the film’s journey.

For better or for worse, I decided to separate from my husband in the midst of the pre-production of the film. So, while being a hands-on, single working mother had its many challenges, it also had its joys!

Our apartment was the office for the longest time, and I made this choice so that I could always be around Vihaan when he was at home. Sometimes, I would wonder if having a separate office would have made me a more focused mother and less distracted at work. But working from home also had its advantages—I was always there to answer his questions, watch his little ‘performances’, listen to all his stories, appreciate his drawings or his Lego aeroplane, or simply enjoy watching him grow. During the shoot, he was often on set and during editing, there were many nights when he fell asleep on my shoulder.

I even indulged in a bit of nepotism by adding him in a scene! Two children were to hang from a monkey bar in the courtyard outside Manto’s Bombay apartment. The scene was simple—Manto walks down the stairs from his apartment and playfully helps a child (Vihaan) climb onto the monkey bar and pushes the other who is hanging upside down. When I was giving the instructions, Vihaan couldn’t help looking at me, flashing his beautiful smile through the scene that needed me to be a bit of a strict director!

Like most women, I went through my bouts of guilt of not being fully present, both as a mother and as a director. I knew this was completely self-imposed, but conditioning is far deeper than understanding something intellectually. I have had to consciously work on it, and I am less harsh on myself now than I was when I began working on the film. It helped to know that boys who have working mothers tend to respect women more, and for girls, working mothers become inspirational role models. I was lucky to have a mother who did a nine-to-five job as a writer-editor, and a father who cooked and cleaned, and who I thought for recreation, painted!

Being a director-mother, I can see why fewer women venture into making films. This extends to other work environments as well, as most spaces are not sensitive to the needs of working mothers. Many a time, family support is also not adequate, making it even more difficult for women to juggle their many roles. In fact, compliments for my multitasking skills irk me no end. I do not want to excel in a ‘juggling act’. Instead, like most men, I want to immerse myself and focus on one thing at a time. It is only when men partake equally in domestic responsibilities, including raising a child, that as women, we can further our dreams and make our work a more joyful experience.

While shooting in Vaso, the entire team stayed in a hotel in Anand, a city that was an hour away. But I chose to stay in the village itself as that allowed me to be close to my son. He could come to the set anytime he wanted, and I could check in on him during our breaks. It was especially helpful during night shoots, as I could put him to bed and just walk over to the set, and when he woke up, he could do the same.

City kids often end up playing with plastic toys, cooped up in their apartments instead of running barefeet and playing outdoor games with other children. I am so happy Vihaan had that experience. While the juggling is exhausting, when your child comes and hugs you after a long day of work, it takes all the fatigue away. Be it the forty-five-degree heat, managing 250 junior artists, or dealing with everything that goes wrong.

Writing the book was comparatively a shorter journey than making the film. But it still feels like a continuation of the Manto journey, not just for me but also for Vihaan. As I write and edit the book, he often asks me, “Are you still writing?” “When will the book finish?” I’m sure he is happier than I am, that the book is almost complete!

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Get the book here.